Caution:Exams ahead!

Greetings mates!

I’m going through THAT time of the year.

Yes it’s THAT time. The time when you know that the final exams are round the corner and you haven’t prepared a bit. The time when you feel like life’s gonna tumble and you won’t even be able to earn your bread (forget about strawberries dipped in dark chocolate)!

Anyway, what I wanted to discuss today is the study pattern of the contemporary world. Is it right? Well does it leave the child with enough to time actually “discover” stuff? I don’t know about other countries, but in India – life of a student is miserable.

To think deeper, we see that Gaglelio, Newton, Archimedes – great scientists – had never sat in their laboratories writing down gibberish on a piece of paper and making frantic calculations! No!

Galileo spent hours in a church just observing the pendulum. Newton spent time under apple tree I’m sure. And Archimedes took lazy baths.

But students today? They wake up in the morning, go to school, come back, go to coaching classes, return home and study a bit more so that their brains could go to hell and then eat a bit and go off to sleep (that’s for 4 hrs). They stink sometimes due to the lack of time (means no bath!). They are sleep and food deprived. They have no social life. And then they finally get into THE IIT ! Yay – goal achieved.

But then when they look back at their earlier years of life they see that there’s nothing – absolutely nothing – that they can laugh about or smile on.

Is this the way I am supposed to live life?


Anybody interested in guest blogging?

Email me at : aayusibiswas@gmail.com 

 

Minds are open only if hearts are open

I Wrote this piece when I was 14 years old. I don’t know if it makes sense…but do check out! Don’t foreget to leave reviews below! I love getting commented on 😉 


ArtofBeingMe-Header21Taking hold of Tina’s hand, Reema led her towards the so called ‘A – class’ table. Reema, one of the moneyed ones herself, offered the underprivileged girl a seat. As the whole mess looked on with dazed expressions, Tina sat down tentatively. “What is this, Reema?” questioned the ‘boss’, “You know that a lowly girl like her cannot sit with us. You wanna be friends with a disgusting daughter of a rickshaw man?” And, to her horror, Reema answered, “Yeah, because my mother taught me to be good to people.” Then added, “And she even told me not to go around in bad company, but sadly enough, I ignored her and now have to bear the consequences.” “Are you out of your mind?” someone whispered. “Mind? Ha. That’s open only when hearts are….provided that you have one,” Reema answered in a low tone before walking away.

Well said, won’t you say so? Minds are opened only when hearts are opened! And that is true most of the times. Caste, color, creed, country and distinction on these basis is something that’s prevalent not just in our society, but in the whole country, continent, world, everywhere. But what are these? Misconceptions? Wrong judgment? Biasness? No. All this is just because we don’t accept the poor, pitiable people. Just because we don’t love a section of our society. Just because we don’t open up to them. Just because we don’t give them a place in our HEARTS. And this thinking is what promotes disagreements, fights, crimes, and other dire things in our society; this very thinking, thought only with our minds and not hearts; this narrow-mindedness is the root.

Many of us believe that opening our hearts is ‘giving in to temptations’, to distractions. But that’s not true, opening our hearts means loving everyone, demolishing differences, rubbing off the lines that cut us from each other and seeing the world as one, not dissected sections. In other words, it’s being impartial. There is a very powerful saying that I quote here, “If you can’t change something, then accept it; and if you can’t accept something then change it.” But this can only be executed when we think emotionally and logically. And if we do it, I bet 90% of our social issues would disappear, because most common of our problems are that of discrimination between women and men, between the rich and poor and between scheduled castes/tribes and general class. And it just doesn’t stop at that. When we use our hearts, we love. When we love, we think. When we think, we understand. When we understand, we help. And when we help, we make the country a better place to live in! We make friends who trust. And trust is the most important thing in a successful relationship.

And an open mind? Well it simply refers to broadmindedness, non-judgmental attitude, tolerance and permissiveness. And I’m sure, all of you must have seen that heart and mind go along like a rider and its horse, and sometimes people even mistaken heart for mind and mind for heart. There’s just a thin line separating them. And if you try, you can merge the two things to get better results.

But some may oppose this theory. Some may say that when we use our hearts, we think irrationally; that we lose our logic; that we stop following the right path. But there’s something I would like to point out: don’t robots too think? They too work, don’t they? They too do things that humans do, don’t they? They too have a brain, don’t they? So shouldn’t they too be referred to as human? NO, you would say. There is a basic difference between them and us. And it is that of a soft, rhythmic beating known as heart beats. They lack it. We don’t. So if god has given us a heart, why not use it? After all, logical thinking is done even by robots that don’t have hearts, but god has given it to us because of some reason. Realize it. And use it. Because our system works differently. Because we are made to think differently. To think not only with a broad mind, but with an equally large heart. So, don’t be a robot and along with motion have some emotions.

Still, if you think that there’s no connection between hearts and minds, then think of those moments when you had to make a choice. A choice between right and wrong. A choice between you yourself and the disadvantaged one in front of you. A choice between duty and expectancy. Or something as simple as a choice between telling your best friend about something or rather dying with a heavy heart (not literally dying). In those moments, whom do you generally refer to? To that logical brain of yours? I’m sure your brains are mostly absent then. You get emotional or else you aren’t able to make a choice. Isn’t it so? So we conclude that we have to get emotional at some points of our lives, and even if we don’t, the circumstances make us so. And broadmindedness will only come to us if and when we’ll open up, with our minds and hearts…..

But if you still think it’s not true, or you think you’ve never experienced a situation like the ones mentioned above, or you still think that one should blindly follow one’s closed mind as opposed to a broad and open one (that comes with a heart like that) then you should seriously consider Reema’s statement, Minds are “open only when hearts are….provided that you have one!”


Do leave comments! 

Love yourself Quote #2

So here goes my second love yourself quote! I’ll be posting more of these on a weekly basis! Hope it helps to keep you motivated through the day!

DSCN0444

Befriend your mind, love your heart, marry your soul, and I bet you, happiness would never divorce you!

Stay tuned for more of these 🙂

Stay blessed! Love you all!

Responsibility – A work of fiction!

Written originally for a school presentation ! 


“Any complaints?”

“Oh come on Anya. You know your work is flawless! I just don’t understand why you’re stuck up with this boutique. You should go for one of those big fashion chains…” Namita, a daily customer of the boutique, babbled, picking up her delivery and proceeding to pay.

The bright smile on Anya’s pretty little, twenty nine year old face shrunk a bit as she averted her gaze. Why bring up this topic, she winced inwardly, deciding not to answer her.

“Answer me!” Namita prodded, “Do you want me to help you with your CV?”

“Uh-no,” Anya replied, “I had done this, years ago. They say I need a degree in Designing and Arts to qualify for a seat…”

She paused for that to sink in before perking up her expression and returning the change.

“And why, in the lord’s name, did you not go for it when you were younger?”

“Ah-a long story!” Anya replied, her face blushing.

“I love long stories,” Namita answered with a grin, making herself comfortable on the plastic chair.

With a sigh, Anya took her seat behind the counter, her elbow resting on the counter top, “Dates back to when I completed my 12th with a 95% in physics. I dreamt of going in for NIFT entrances, you know National Institute of Fashion Tech.”

Namita nodded for her to go on.

“And so, I revealed my wishes to Mum and Dad. Dad, being the typical traditional fellow he is, immediately objected claiming I was born to be an engineer.

On the other hand, being the typical rebel I am, told him what I thought of his great idea f making me an engineer.

Daily there were squabbles and finally we decided I’d appear for both the entrance exams.

In my opinion, both my exams went off well. The condition was I’d opt for the subject I score better in. I passed JEE with a placement in one of the best colleges. Dad was overjoyed. But I waited for my NIFT results…which never came. I never lost hopes, but when months passed and it was time for me to start with my engineering, I had to give in. Seems like I failed. I did my engineering. It was tough. I’m a B.Tech.  in computer software. My husband’s the MD if an IT company. But I can’t work with him. You know why?”

Namita shook her head.

“Because I’m an engineer without any knowledge of engineering! I mean I can’t program a simple thing because when I sit to do it, my head spins and I fell like ripping my skull apart!” Anya paused to take a breath and continued, “What do you suggest I do? I tried whatever was needed but…well now it’s too late to ponder over that!”

There was a chime at the door. Anya stood up as a man in his mid thirties entered the boutique.

“Mrs. Anya Tiwari?” he announced looking at the two ladies.

“That’d be me…” Anya said, “Tiwari’s my maiden name,” she gave in the way of an explanation to Namita’s inquiring look.

“Nice to meet you madam. I’m Tarun Halat and I’m here to give you this,” he said, fishing an envelope out of his bag.

“What’s this?” she asked, turning the big thing in her hands.

“Well, well, well! You see ma’am my father, Late Mr. Arvind Halat was a postman,” he waited for her reaction, when none came, he continued, “About ten years ago, he won a lottery of half a crore through those stupid games we see at TV stations. Well they’re not so stupid after all! Ok, so to talk of the envelope, he brought a new house and stuff and left his old coop locked up. Recently he passed away and we got the opportunity of sifting through his belongings. Inside his cubbyhole, we found a whole bag of undelivered letters dating back to the day he resigned. As the irresponsible man he was, he forgot all about these. But we decided to turn them in to the rightful owners…so here it is. We went to your home on the Prithvi Road, your parents told me I’d find you here…”

“Oh,” Anya whispered, reading the address on the envelope having a NIFT seal. Peeling off the seal, she slid out a worksheet along with a letter.

Tarun and Namita waited patiently as Anya read and re read the contents. Her eyes watered as she looked up to the two of them. Tears welled up those beautiful black eyes as she repeated the printed lines in her mind…

…having secured a merit position in the NIFT entrance exam, you are bestowed with the privilege of selecting the institute of your choice…
Reply within a period of ten days…

“Why have you brought this to me…” she whispered.

“Pardon?” Tarun said, leaning in to her better.

“WHY HAVE YOU BROUGHT THIS STUPID THING TO ME…” she yelled, tossing the envelope by his feet, “You realize what this is? You want me to cry all over again? You to make me REGRET?”

“Ma’am,” he tried to cut her.

“If only you had brought it ten years back…if only…” she whispered, stumbling on her chair and turning her face in an unsuccessful attempt to hide her tears.

“I’m sorry, from my father’s side…” he began.

With a jerk, she looked straight at him, “YOUR FATHER SPOILT MY LIFE MR. TARUN HALAT. GET LOST! I DON’T WANNA SEE YOUR FACE…” she hissed.

Later on in the day, she realized she was wrong in scolding him. He had helped her and she had been ungrateful. But she had to vent out her feelings…no?believe9

Ten years, ten long years she had lived the life of shameful failure, had believed she’d FAILED not just in the entrance exam but in her life! A life of low self esteem, dismay, and uselessness is something worth crying after…

And all this at the cost of a man’s irresponsibility?

Contemplable eh?

A Villain with a Heart

I wrote it when I was 11 !!


My eyes misted as I clapped for my son who marched up the stage to accept his medal. I was really proud for the deeds my son had done as a military commander for the country but the cause of my tears was the memory of a friend, Jackhans_7507

Jack was an excellent shooter and a famous (in the underworld) personality. How did we meet? Well, he saved my life.

It was a chilly morning of December when I was walking down the Eve Street, unaware of the danger in store. The locality was deserted and except me there were only a couple of other peoplea young man and an old womanon the street. Everything was quiet when suddenly a shot rang out, shattering the stillness. In an instant the young man had his gun out, aimed at the old women. The woman, surprisingly, lost her limpness and ran for cover behind a wall (and she too had a gun) – she turned out to be a man. I shrieked as someone grabbed me from behind and blindfolded me. I was carried in, perhaps, a car to some musty place, which turned out to be the dungeons of the Webster House. My blinds were removed but my hands and feet were securely tied and then I was thrown in one of the
cells.

Sweat poured through my body, all sorts of thoughts passing my mind. I looked around myself and found to my surprise that there were a dozen more people in the vault, all unconscious. They were all VIPs (except a couple of girls who were simple citizens like me)relations of different ministers whom I knew by faces .For a minute I felt honored to meet such people but then again the thoughts of the gangsters filled my head. Otherwise, the room vault was completely bare and was illuminated by the glow of the only light bulb present there. I tried to wriggle out of my bonds but they were tied quite professionally. At that moment the metallic door opened to reveal a lot of rogues.

They were all dressed in black and were carrying AK-47s in their shoulder holsters. I got scared when they started towards me but they didn’t even seem to notice me and passed on. They carried the unconscious figures of the VIPs out one by one and closed the door. Now there were only three of us left in the cell- the two, partially conscious, girls and myself. Once they were fully recovered I tried to talk them into telling me what the whole affair was about but they were too scared to utter a single word.

After a few hours of silence, there came a grating sound and the door opened. In came a man, closing the door behind him. He was dressed fully in black like all other thugs; he advanced towards me with a sharp knife gleaming in his hand. I screamed with fright assuming that he was planning to kill me. The man gave me a sharp look with a finger on his lips; I understood that I had to be quiet. When he came a little closer, I gasped in recognition- he was none other than the underworld face whose picture was on the wanted list of criminals on the papers, famous by the name of the Jackal.

He walked up to me with the sharp blade, and with one stroke of his arm…

I closed my eyes, waiting for death to come but instead I felt the grips of ropes loosen around my wrists. I slowly reopened my eyes and gazed at him who was setting the other girls free. My mind still wasn’t ready to accept what was happening, I was sure that he was going to assassinate me but my heart opposed it as his eyes showed concern though he appeared to be ruthless.

The man motioned us all to sit and said, “The doors are heavily guarded at present. It’ll be easier to get out at noon, the guards at that shift are easier to handle.” I sat close to him and asked in a hesitating manner, “Aren’t you the-“

“Jackal, yeah!” he said interrupting me. I sat quietly waiting for an explanation but when none came I again inquired, “What’s going on here and how come you saving lives instead destroying…I…please, no offence or anything intended.”

“None taken. And about your question, the whole thing’s this- these people are an international group of terrorists, want money and their dangerous fellas set free from the clutches of the police. They’re holding important people as hostages. And about why I’m helpin’ you’ll- it’s a long story but in short” he sighed “my sister, the only one I’ve ever had to call a family, was abducted and was brutally murdered by a group of outlaws”, for a moment his eyes were filled with misery and sorrow but in no time, he regained his ruthless attitude and resumed, “I can’t see innocent children and women killed and I came forward. And my reputation helped me to gain the terrorists trust, so here I am.”

“So you mean to say that you entered as a terrorist but are actually working for the government?”

“Not. For. The government.” He said this slowly yet furiously. “I told you how much I cared for my sister Laura. When she was in danger I was not there to save her; and I find… peace on saving the innocent. And the government is actually after me, ‘cause I’m a wanted criminal, am I not?”

A criminal saving women and children, weird.

I sat for a while, looking at the man and then extended my hand, “I’m Jane Maria Christie.” He gave a quick two fingered salute saying, “Jack Sullivan”

After a sleepy hour or so, Jack stood up, asking us to do the same. “Now, follow me and remember-if there are any shootouts, stick to the ground. Clear?” We all nodded.

With gesturing to be quiet, he moved out of the door with all of us tailing him. After turning a corner we followed him at a brisk pace towards the door, but Jack came to an abrupt stop and to our horror, we were face to face with one of the assassins.

He, at first ignored our expression and gave Jack a friendly smile and extended his palm, asking for a pass. From Jack’s expression it was clear that he wasn’t expecting anything of this sort. When Jack was unable to provide him with what he wanted, his expression became grave. He looked first at Jack and then at us, and at once took out his gun. Then there was quite a lot of shooting between a few terrorists and Jack. As instructed, we went down on our bellies and crawled all the way to the door.

“Run, run for your lives, go to gate 4, hurry” came the orders from the wounded Jack as he was still blocking the door so that the terrorists couldn’t follow us. Unwillingly, we left him to fight for himself and ran out. Whatsoever, we were being followed by a couple of gangsters. Once outside, we saw that the atmosphere was tense as if preparing for a war. We saw on a city map displayed on a board that gate 4 was a military base and was not too far from where we were standing. We ran at top speed, stopping only once to catch our breath. We finally reached the base (where one of my companions fainted out of tiredness) where noticing our conditions, we were carried inside.

In a week, we came to know that the terrorists were under control-all because of our army-and the VIPs were located.

The next morning’s paper showed that several of the gangsters were found dead on the door of the Webster House (I knew it was Jack’s work). It also explained that the army men were under cover, patrolling the city (like the old woman who turned out to be a man) and it even revealed that the Jackal was found dead too, outside the dungeons.

Every one still thinks that he was a companion of the terrorists. No one knows the truth about the daring hero. Now, 20 yrs have passed but the incident is still fresh in my mind. I’m really happy to think that I got a chance to know such a great person who gave up his life just for three citizens whom he didn’t even know. This was not exactly a friendly meeting but to me he would always be a friend-a savior.

There are many villains in this world, but this one was different …he was a villain with a heart.

Dear Diary!

There’s been a question disturbing my piece of mind since many days and today I’d like to voice it – WHAT AM I?

Oh I have no doubts about being a girl, 16yrs of age at that, but what I really want to know is AM I an adult or a child?

In the adjoining room, seated in front of the television with a chopping board and a bottle guard in hand is my typical Indian mother who at one instance argues that I’m too young to go over my friend’s place for a harmless party and at the very next instance says that I am old enough to go three kilometers out of the way to the grocery shop to get finely ground white flour – just the way she likes it – for the delicacy she wants to prepare for some distant aunty who’s visiting her after a long time, say about after two days!

She says I should behave lady like and like a tamed young girl – all prim and proper – in front of the society. But, but, but, if I just as much as comment on something they’re all discussing, I’m told to shut up and keep mum like the 16yr old I am. Well, what do you say about that?

Ok, all that is bearable but what happened today surpassed all. You see, next week is my dear Shreya di’s wedding, and don’t ask me who that is coz frankly I’ve met her just twice but obviously it’s a big event as mummy took me out shopping for that. So I am supposed to be dressed traditionally. No issues at that. But trust me; shopping with mum was one hell of a nightmare! Unbelievably disastrous that trip turned out to be!

I chose a Sabyasachi sleeveless fishtail cut peach costume. It was hot I must say. Just as I was about to take it off, I was dragged to check out a down market, yellow and blue lehenga with stupid sequences and bright zari all over it. It’s hard to breathe in with that thing on, leave alone attending the wedding. There were similar war waged over jewelry and sandals and other such stuff.

After this spree, I have no doubts about mum being intent on turning me into Lady Gaga II.

The next intended pun was at the saloon. Is it so out of the ordinary to color one’s hair? I didn’t ask for a ridiculous purple or pink dye but just a streak of rust highlights. But no, Mrs. I-like-you-offended had to intervene! Doesn’t she know there is ammonia free stuff available now? Or does she seriously want me to be in a huff at all times?

Am I allowed to do nothing I like? Am I too old for half the things I enjoy? Am I too young to indulge in activities I find fascinating? Or is it that the statement ‘act you age’ is a punch line for all times for parents who want to save themselves the pain of changing THEIR outlook.

Shouldn’t people update themselves with the changing times? Shouldn’t they try to understand teenagers as they themselves have been through this age? Or am I being too fussy about something adolescents have been facing since time unmemorable.

I don’t know…but I’m not made of moldable soil. I am what I am and always will be. I won’t change myself!

ps: I’m sorry if you were bored coz of my ranting…! And thanks for reading the whole thing!

Love you all ❤

But then mummy says I’m too old to preserve that attitude…

Being ME !

Aaah…Being ME! That’s my favorite phrase, kind of!

It’s time to be what I am, and this millennium seems like the right place to start at!

Ignoring various accusations of people all around, I am blooming. And that’s what YOU need to do! Because in the end that’s what’s gonna help you out! That’s what’s gonna make you look pretty. That’s what’s gonna make you the hero!

Be rebel, ask for a change, make the change and be the change – only if it suits YOU!
Always remember to be YOU and not what others want you to be!