Moments that do not need words...

OK, so my exams are done... 'Good riddance to Bad Rubbish'... Well, Exams are the only weapons on Earth which kill you twice: once when you write them, and once when you get the results. And then, after the results, it is either eternal Hell or Heaven.

Hmm... So, I went to watch a movie today, and came back. I spent time with my best friends and my brother. My brother was totally confused as to what we were watching. :) Poor Guy... Coming back to the point. After I came back home... I saw my dad... He said, "You watched a movie? How was it?" I said, "It was good... I liked it." And then, the question I'd been dreading... "How was your exam" I said, "Yeah... I... I guess I... wrecked it."



I lied down on his lap as he told me that I'm capable, I just must work hard. I was thinking... I wrote poems and pages and pages for my friends... And here I was, lying down on my dad's lap, who appreciated me and corrected me at the same time. He was caressing my chin, while attending a call on his cellphone... I used to hate it when he did that, talking on phone to his office people while talking to us. But today, it meant something different to me... Something like, how he loved me more than his work... I say this so boldly 'cause he's my Father. Someone I could trust with my Life. I could feel those strong waves of Love, even when he was doing his office work. I wish he felt them from my side too, when I was lying down on his lap...

I thought and thought, this deserves a poem... But, WHY? There was an English Comprehension in which the Author captured every special moment of her Life, by taking photos. I thought of taking a picture of this. But, WHY?

Some moments just do not need a camera, or a poem, or even words... The emotion, the feeling, it lives on... Forever.

This was one of them. A Moment that doesn't have to be Described. I feeling that is... understood.

I know that when my results are going to come, I will be angry, 'cause my dad will be mad at me. But then... I know, I always will know, that he loves me, just as much as I love him...

Dawn Of Trouble...

Ok wait... Hey! Trouble= My exams...



I must be the craziest person on Earth to blog right when my exams are approaching... But hello, this is me. :)

So well, with my exams coming so close, and the atmosphere so cold, my hands are so cold right now. Almost numb. I don't understand whether it is because of fear or the weather or just the way people are scaring me these days.

I am so scared about my pre-boards right now that my thought process has gone awry. The thing I care about so much: My poetry... aargh.. I am unable to write these days, thanks to fear.

What with me forgetting to light a candle on 26th November, me forgetting to wish my friends and give them a smile in the morning, me forgetting to smile at my friends when I see them later in the day and giving them a frown instead, them unable to understand why my face has gone all wierd without that upward curve of my lips... I understood that my life is all messed up right now. I'm so sure I'm not going to do well these exams.. And that's what makes my hands go so cold now.

But now... That I come to think about it: What on Earth is the use of worrying ? If not now, later. If not later, after that. Life never runs out of second chances. I know many people don't exactly agree with my crazy idea... When I didn't do my second term exams well in class 9, my final exams went off comparitively well enough..!!

If not my first pre boards, second pre boards. If not the second pre boards, the boards. If not boards, life. If not life, the next life..!!

Well, this is just probably a way of consoling myself. But I guess I learnt from this.

After all, my marks aren't what I am...

There is so much to do in life, so many people to love and care about, that there is no place for fear... Love and die, or Worry and die... Life is all yours, you choose.

Tick Tock... Am I being selfish?

Well, I’m back…

It has been so long since I’ve blogged, that it kind of took sometime for me to figure out how to use the blog! Okay, I was not exaggerating.

As mentioned in my previous post: I was too busy with poetry.

Well, actually; I was improving my poetic skills… Maybe it is just plain craziness, but I hate being criticized when it comes to something I’m seriously passionate about! Criticize my math, “Ahaan ok…” Critize my Physics, “Sure… Fine. I’ll try” But criticize a part of me! No way. I’m not listening (na na na)

So, I was trying to get some rhyme etc. in my poetry. Well, I don’t think I’ve been that successful. But at the end of the day, I’m happy I have this one way of expressing myself. Sure, my poems are not those pro poems, where you have the perfect rhyme, rhythm and all that. J It sometimes makes me happy, how one of my friends says , “HAAN! L She beat me! You wrote 4 poems for her and only 3 for me ” It encourages me to write more… think more as to how much a person really means to me.

Today, a writer came to my school, to publicize his book. He is a journalist cum writer. I was so uninterested that I don’t even know what the book is called! I just looked out of the window, at my shoes, at my friend’s face, started using the time to worry about my best friend’s exam. But what caught my ears was “Question and Answer session” That was when I thought, I’ve GOT TO ask this guy some questions. My questions were “Did you express your inner self in the book?” and “Did you empathize with the major characters?”

When I walked back, satisfied with the answers, I was thinking… wondering… Was I being selfish? Was it right of me to ask such questions? Everyone asked “How do I improve my vocab” or “I want to develop interest in reading, tell me how, please Sir.”

Right from the day I took up a pencil and started writing what I feel about everything going on around me, I thought that this is the one thing I enjoy doing. I realized that I did not seek appreciation, but I just could do this writing all day long. Maybe I’m not the best at it, but I want to continue writing, throughout my life. And if I’m good enough, pursue my career in it. Poems, prose, ANYTHING. I just wanted to write to express myself.

When I asked this question to the Author, I realized… I think I was being selfish. Maybe I should have asked about the book? But I preferred to ask questions in such a way that it would be beneficial for me to write well…

It makes me feel so… weird. I still do not know whether I was selfish. People say it was ‘reference’ or ‘advice’.

It has been going on in my mind for hours now. And I wonder… why do I feel this way? Was I being selfish or prudent?

P.S.- If you've finished reading ALL of that, yay you have patience. So if you are done, I just wanted to say: sorry for the informal language... :)

Poems, Me, and NClub*

Okay… Nothing new. As it always happens, the things I want, I hope for and I wish for happen at unexpected times, when I’m so not prepared.

And that fateful (:P) NClub* meeting . God that was hell. Oh by the way, NClub* is a club where we, members, write for our newspaper. The outcome, the paper which is finally published is pretty good. I mean, everyone likes Grandma Grandpa Talks right. So yeah, the outcome is pretty cool. But what we go through for that final thing is…

My friend and I sat there… Our eyes and mind, both were outside. What would we not give (okay, there’s a contradiction down there) for getting out there, playing Badminton/Football (Soccer for some) and have fun and laugh with all the others instead of sitting here and listening to the same thing over and over again: Dedication, 100% efforts (I guess this is what Fazeel, the Chief Editor, meant when he said 100% effort, pay attention to the stuff being ‘discussed’ in the ‘meeting’), and the same old lack of punctuations, use MS Word for writing, blah blah. God, it was boring!!!

So anyway, I had nothing to contribute. I just sat there, looking at them. I thought, “Who the hell is going to work for this? Its easy, anyway, I can skip this saying that I’m in 10^th, and I’m studying" when I was not even trying. So there I was, thinking the stuff I shouldn’t. But the fact is that I was feeling guilty. In the deepest part of my heart, I was guilty, and if I was being true to myself then, I was really really guilty. They were counting on me. Okay, no boasting, but they were counting on me. I don’t know up to what extent, but they were. I was one of the four people who attend every meeting without fail. And I mean it. We contributed, in each and every edition, we contributed. And today I was there, empty handed. Nothing to give. I didn’t even think about it, not even once in the holidays.

And my friend said, “Give your poems na, at least one. That way you don’t have to work. You don’t have ideas na, so just give one of them.” Ugh, this idea seemed good to me! Damn, something more to add to my guilt. Those poems were dedications…!!! How could I even think of giving them to save myself from working…!!! They were dedications, and I tell you, not a word of them was untrue, not a word of them was false, as in to add to the poetic style or anything. Each and every word was felt, was inspired! And I was sitting there, thinking of giving them away..!! Okay, so I know I’m a weird person. Some of you would ask me, “Why couldn’t you just give them? They were just some poems. At the end of the day, they still are written by you and for the same person you wrote them for!” But coming back to the same point, I’m a weird and crazy person. I believe that when I dedicate a poem to someone, I can show them only to people who know, who UNDERSTAND that my poem is for that one extremely special person, who means so much to me that all the words in the dictionary together wouldn’t be enough. I feel like, I’m betraying them. I don’t know if betraying is the right word.

But maybe I am kidding myself again. I mean, I guess I was too attached to the poems to put them for public display. I’m selfish, or just plain crazy or my brain doesn’t work in the same frequency as others’ do. So there was the truth, clear as water: I was too attached to them.

In some of the scriptures I’ve heard of, they say people shouldn’t be attached to anything, not family, not friends, not belongings, nothing. And me? Hah. I’m attached to almost everything in my life. Believe it or not, I count my paint bottles! I check if that favourite sparkly pencil of mine is with me or not. I check if I keep my book in which I write everyday in my bag. Like I just can not afford to let go of it! If my friend leaves the school, I burst into tears! I cry for more than a week. I still miss my friends who left the school. Okay, so that’s me. Extreme attachment or extreme detachment. So I don’t know. They say when you are detached from all the ‘worldly pleasures’, you will be happy. But I’m happy. In fact, the fact that I’m attached to my stuff makes me feel happy!

Am I crazy or what?!

There… coming back to my first line. Nothing new… All this is about one millionth of what is going on in my mind as of now.

* Names Changed, for my safety

The Paatti (Granny) in Me Talks...

Okay, so first, I know this is not all that Philosophical and stuff... But it was kind of Paatti-ish. So anyway, even though it is Paatti-ish, it is Aishu Paatti talking, that is, it is me all this, not a whole new person... or a false person.

Life gives you *almost* everything. Noticed the word 'almost' ? Well, yeah, almost everything.

Well, the things not given to you by life are divided into two categories:

1. Things you can get by working for them.
2. Things you cannot get even by working for them.

The second one by itself implies that you can't do anything, helpless. And if you start off with the 'Everything is possible for a human', go lick your elbow. Okay, I mean that literally, 'go lick your elbow'. It is impossible, unless you cut your hand off. if you survive even after you endure the pain, sure,you can. So anyway, you can not lick your elbow. Thus, some things you just can't get.

But going back to the first one. There are somethings you can get by working for them. Here, they are further divided into two categories again:

1. Ones which are worth working for.
2. Ones which are not worth working for.

Now that depends on you, what you find worth, and what you don't.

So this is basically what I want to say:

There are very few things in life that are worth working for, and even fewer which you will like and enjoy working for. Moral of the story: Choose Wise, Work Wise

(oh oh, don't forget, work wise means work-wise, according to work.)

Tears...

All this time, whenever someone has hurt me, or scolded me, I’ve never once refrained from thinking I’m unlucky (note: only in these circumstances) But there are some incidents, which make my problems, whatever silly teenage ones or family ones they might be, seem like nothing, they push them into a dark void. And here are some of them. A compilation of the most disgusting, sickening, gruesome and painful stuff I’ve ever heard.

It was in class 9 that we had a drama to study, called “The Bishop’s Candlesticks”. My English teacher, Dass Sir, the best teacher I’ve ever seen never leaves anything unexplained. No surface study. The story starts with the introduction of a very kind Bishop, who treats Religion for what it is meant to be, Humanity. Helping people is his mission in life. And there is a Convict, who breaks into the Bishop’s house. He threatens to kill the Bishop if the Bishop doesn’t give him food. The Bishop without any hesitation extends his hospitality to the Convict and along with food and wine, also gives him a place to sleep and a blanket to cover himself with. The Convict is confused… He sees two silver candlesticks in the Bishop’s house and he plans to steal them after the Bishop has left. The Convict manages to steal them on the way. He runs away with them. Meanwhile the Bishop notices that the Candlesticks have been stolen. It was given to him by his Mother. But then, the police enter his house with the Convict and make him return the Bishop’s Candlesticks. The Bishop frees the Convict and tells the police that the Convict is his friend. He gives the candlesticks to the Convict so that the Convict can lead a good life. The question arises, why was the Convict sent to prison? His wife was starving and sick. So, he stole money to buy food for her. And thus, he was arrested and sent to the prison hulks for 10 years. And the incident I’m talking about, is about this- the prison hulks.

Earlier on, prisoners and slaves were sent to prison hulks. Prison in a ship. They had to row the ship. Mark my words, it was no mean task. If they stopped rowing, they were whipped. And if there was a storm, they were the first ones to die. These ships were specially designed for these prisoners. They stayed below the deck in long, dark, narrow passages, with only 2 openings at the ends of the passage so that air could enter. They were chained here. All their life processes took place there: breathing, eating, excreting… And just before the “journey” was over, they were brought up to the deck. Water was poured on them and they were rubbed with huge brushes. They would develop sores and rashes all over their body. They were given one good meal on that day. During the journey, if they fell sick or were not healthy enough to row, they were just forced to walk the deck and jump into the sea, if not, they were pushed in to the sea.

And then: Guantanamo Bay. The famous 9/11 attacks. Innocents were killed after the attacks. In the prison, they were treated like… like no living thing ever should be. When the prisoners fasted as a sign of protest, feeding tubes were shoved up their noses. Suicide attempts were passed as “self-injurious” acts. They were tortured with glass pieces, and barbed wires. They lived in the same room as their feces. The men were… sexually assaulted by some women officers/ whatever they were. Religion defiled… they were forced to eat pork. Three words described all this “ Extreme Psychological Stress”. And I read about Jamil al-Banna, one of the prisoners, and his children that evening.

And then I read about a Child Soldier at Sierra Leone, a girl. In her “camp”, a boy was forced shoot a person, apparently, for practice. He refused to do so. All the other children were ordered to beat the child with sticks and kill him. And then smear his blood all over their body, to remove their “fear”, or they would face the same fate. The girl whom I’m talking about was there, hitting the boy. The boy knew her, and looked up at her timidly and asked her, with tears in his eyes, “Why are you doing this to me?”. The girl was sobbing as she replied, “I don’t know…”

And as I recollected all these incidents, my eyes were moist, tears were rolling down my face. Why? Didn’t I have problems? But what are my problems after all? Some stupid teenage obsession, some silly fight with a friend? Some cousin I fought with? Oh no, they were nothing. They were on the left side of the number line. These… These were problems. Killing your friend, being imprisoned for nothing, being enslaved because of your skin colour, being tortured 24x7. Waking up in the morning, knowing that you will be whipped, knowing that you are going to be sexually assaulted, or tortured with barbed wires…

And today I won’t say I’m lucky, I know I am. No point stating it here. Today I want to cry out loud, to say, “STOP, is this what your religion teaches you? Is this what you learnt when you were a child???” My voice is soft, its not loud enough to reach the world.

As my eyes are clouded with tears, I can still see. Even through these bars of rage, I can see that this is wrong. Being such an emotional person, I can still SEE, what is right and what is wrong… And yet, some others can’t, mainly those who have the power to stop it!!!

JAAGO RE!

Twilight

I know I’m late, but what to do? It takes time for me to sort out my feelings.

When I was in class 3, I used to fall ill very often. Thanks to these periods of time when I was ill and stayed back at home, I read a lot of stories. My favourites were the ones with a moral. I am ashamed to admit that I don’t remember any story very clearly.

I do remember one, vaguely. This was a story about a battle between the beasts and the birds. They fought relentlessly, I do not remember for what. They fought for years together, not stopping for a moment. The bats were the only specie, in the whole battle, who never stuck to any side. They kept changing sides, according to who was winning.Finally, the battle ended in a compromise. All the beasts birds condemned the bats. They were shunned and ex-communicated, neither accepted as birds, nor as beasts. Not only were they pushed aside, they also had to agree to one condition: They were allowed to come out only at that part of the day when it was neither fully dark, nor fully lit- Twilight.

Recently, the IPL finals took place, on the 24^th of May (wonder why I remember the date, never been a cricket fan, or should I say fanatic, since its religion in India) Ab who will miss the finals yaar? I watched it with great interest, for Deccan Chargers were playing. And Deccan Chargers WON! YAY!!! But, why was I feeling happy. Earlier on, I was supporting the “Mumbai Indians”, I don’t know why, I felt that… by winning the IPL 2, Mumbai was making a point, even after the 26/11, they were one… Hah! Like they even need to prove themselves or make a point, I was just being silly. But suddenly when Deccan Chargers won, I was happy…Maybe it is because I stay at Hyderabad, but is it? I guess not… I’m not afraid of accepting the truth. I think I supported Deccan Chargers because they won. I felt like a… like a hypocrite, like a bat!

At school, I always stood up for my friends, and my brother. When I was in class 6, and my brother was in class 10, we used to go to school and come back in an Auto-Rickshaw. When we were coming back home, some prefect was saying something to my brother. I didn’t hear what he said, but I didn’t like his expression. So I yelled at him. I was so silly! I was 4 years younger, and he was a prefect, he could have punished me without any reason, and plus, he was 2 times my height, one blow and that would be the last sunrise I ever set my eyes upon! Nothing to feel proud about.

Yet, was this an act of loyalty?

I don’t know… I am confused… Am I a bat, or not? Is twilight the right time for me???

Farewell...

"Bye bye bye bye. bye bye bye bye bye byeee! जाना है हमको bye bye bye good bye" This was from an advertisement, the whole essence of I'm writing, or should I say, typing?

WARNING: Lots of grammatical errors, correction not intended, very informal style of writing. Sorry.

Fourteen years… not enough to face many farewells… for me at least. There were some though… one farewell the worst (in a way) and the best (in a way)

I was born in Hyderabad, but for seven years Mumbai was my life, my everything. I remember how I used to love to say “Chaddanagar”, where my tall Mama (I like to call him that way, I’m short…) and laugh! The apartment where mom, my brother and I used to stay, Gulmarg (I miss it so much). How all us kids used to run down to play at 6. Srishti had slapped me once at that time, grrr…. I remember how my friend Faheema and I had wandered far away from home (to play): Both my mom and Faheema’s parents were scared stiff (as if anyone would kidnap us, hah!) Her dad took a bundle of papers, rolled them and hit her. She behaved as though it was an everyday thing and I went home, crying (my parents don’t hit me). Once I saw these pencils manufactured at the U.S. Damn, they were beautiful… And I asked mom to get them for me. She roamed all over the city to get them for me, I still cry about it sometimes. And all this resided in that city… Like a part of my soul was still there. We left by train. Annie aunty, Thomas uncle, Deepti and Suneel… and Rajesh were there, at the station, saying bye to us. I felt like I would jump out! Oh, I remember Suneel crying… crying?! Suneel, my brother and I used to play on these small cars (as in they were manual effort toys) on which we would sit and play. I didn’t cry looking outside the window. I cried sitting inside the train. I was leaving them behind, when would I see them again. :’(

It was like… like a part of my heart, should and mind had been torn off, and had been kept separately. My Mumbai heart, mind and soul.

And here was another farewell. I went for this summer class for one month. Today was the last day. Bye! But, I didn’t feel bad, no tears. Maybe because the time I spent in Mumbai was way more than this, but still! It was a farewell… I don’t know.

Every farewell, every goodbye means so much, and so different.

I’m sure about what I’ll feel when I leave H.P.S ( R ). This is going to tear me like nothing ever before. Most of my ‘first- times’ were here. Like a part of me is going to be torn in the most painful way, and I know it, and still I’m not running away from that weapon. In fact, I’m going towards it, every second… Even thinking of it makes me cry.

Adieu: A word with so many different meanings, and emotions…

Rain Rain Come Again

Sometimes I meet people close to my heart or there are some incidents I would like to carry in my heart as long as it beats (and even after that, if there is an after life :) ). I wonder if I will remember them. I always wish I carried a camera around wherever I go, but I guess after loosing two cameras; I have enough experience to realize that I can’t keep carrying one.

Today, two people who are very important to me came home: my cousin and his fiancée (they are getting married soon, I am so excited, maybe if there is something that touches me, I’ll tell you all about it!) We (Dad, Mom, Grandma, my Brother and I) were all happy. Bhabhi and Venky were coming for the first time (together). Am I going to remember this special day? I made sure I would by clicking some pics. It started raining, nay, pouring heavily soon after they came. I went to stand in the balcony to let those drops of purity grace my face…

As this water washed over me and washed away all my worries temporarily, they brought back the memories of July 2008. My cousin had come here on some official work. He was showing us (Mom, my Brother and I) an album of someone’s marriage on his laptop. It was nothing to do with the quality of the photos, actually nothing to do with the photos at all! Actually, seeing the photos of a person’s marriage who is unknown to you, you don’t really know whom/what to look forward to, at least I feel that way. It was raining outside with great ferocity. I’d never seen it rain that way in Hyderabad. The aroma of the wet soil and the coolness and sheer purity of the rain engulfed me…

Today I stood in the same place, remembering that I was standing here less than a year ago…

Sometimes, small things in life remind you of the special ones. I realized that even if I didn’t take photos, I would have remembered this day. I’d have remembered that three people who are so special to me came here once; all it takes is rainfall… ;)

फिर भी दिल है हिन्दुस्तानी !

Summer holidays are going on. I have nothing to do but keep writing. And my ears have become extra sensitive. So the smallest comment/compliment will be noticed and will get a reply from me.

There are loads of things going on- elections, recession… So the comments have to come, obviously. And my temporarily extra-sensitive ears have to notice this. They took up 2 of these comments. A person said that he was glad to leave this ‘third-world’ country, a person born and brought up here, and now working abroad. And the second one is the funniest! Someone blamed India for the 26/11 Mumbai horror. I do agree that the defence part, we did make mistakes, big ones, (I’ll tell you about the mistakes in some other post) but we caused the attacks?? Naah…

Under normal circumstances I’d have said, “Dude, get a life!” But well, summer vacation ;) .

So.

Third World Country, eh? Cause of terror attack huh?

Well, I think this poem is the best way to answer you. A poem written by my cousin Shyam (thanks a million!) I wholeheartedly agree with you.

So here is your answer you people:

When I imagine the world of tomorrow

And look at what is left of it today

Despite the despair and misery around

Hope sustains me

The scare of terror in each of us

With helpless neighbours to deal with

But since my country is pure in intention

Hope sustains me

Our roads are narrow for sure

And many are poor and starving

But with our spirits riding high

Hope sustains me

Nobody ever looked east

We always looked west

But when the world believes we have arrived today

Hope sustains me

Our leaders may be self centered

Social duties are wanting

But when some here live only for others

Hope sustains me

Some countries maybe progressing faster

Garnering acclaim, wealth and prosperity

But when I am free to do what I want to here

Hope sustains me

I do dream of a developed India

And I want every Indian to be rich

But even today I can be happy here

And Hope sustains me

I couldn’t resist putting up a song here…

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

As I look back at the past, the 14 years of life that have been given to me till now, I realize how much I’ve changed. My face, my dressing, my point of view, my interests, my friends, everything.

But the one thing that has never failed to amaze me is the night sky- the stars. The reasons why they amaze me keep changing. Sometimes their twinkling, sometimes their beauty and size, at other times their distance form the Earth and sometimes their sheer number.

As I look into the night sky tonight, what they do amazes me; I don’t know how long they keep me mesmerized… maybe a second, a minute or maybe even an hour.

They change our destiny, according to some religions…

As I enter my home, I see my family munching on their dinner. Unknowingly, instinctively, a smile spreads across my face as my brother is ready to greet me with a friendly punch or a splash of water, my Father waiting for me with some news (why is it so important to him?), my Mother shoving a plate at me to stuff me with food. I’d rather face hell than not be a part of my family.

Yet, I wonder, would I have said the same thing had I been born elsewhere? Those little stars in some other part of the Universe decided that I’d be born here, so be it.

If those stars were positioned a bit differently at the time of my birth, who knows? I could have been born as a Child Soldier in Sierra Leone, a child running away from a bomb blast or a terrorist attack at Kashmir, a child begging the parents not to divorce in any part of the world, a child washing plates in India, my country…

Man changes his destiny, huh? To what extent? Sure, we can alleviate our sufferings slightly, sure, we can do our bit for the Environment, but our own fate?

Shakespeare once said, in a poem of his called ‘The Seven Ages’:

All the world’s a stage

And all the men mere players:

They have their exits and entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts,

…

Our birth in the world is decided: time, place, family, package offer including our death! And where we are born almost fully decides our future. And it is in our hands…???

Sure, we can choose whatever career we wish to pursue, but isn’t it luck ultimately? Back to the stars, back to God.

He is far enough that we can not see him; he is near enough to change our destiny.

“ Twinkle twinkle little star

How I wonder what you are

Up above the world so high

… You decide whether in the fight against bad luck,

I win, lose, or it is a tie…”

When Life Came Alive...

The irritating noise of beeping now seemed important, necessary… the heartbeat report flashed on the screen, the oxygen level was down under, the pulse rate abnormally high. My grandma was unwell, suffering with gangrene in her right hand… lying on the bed, begging for just a drop of water. 84 years old, battling for life, fighting with poor health to get out of the bed and see her family and I was beside her, shedding tears so that she could get up, so that people would give her water, so that they would take her home. I just wondered who was a greater warrior, the one who killed thousands on the battlefield, or grandma, who battled against her own body using her will power.

I felt odd standing there. Just a week ago, I was at Kerala, enjoying the beaches, the trees, the nature, the company of friends. And I was unaware that the very same weekend when I was celebrating, my grandma was in hospital, lying there, asking nothing but water. And my mother didn’t tell me. And I was hurt, my family didn’t trust that I could take it, but maybe they were right, I couldn’t take it.

“She is sinking”, the doctors had given up, but I wouldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t leave us. She was our everything; she meant the world to me. The thought of her, smiling, joking with us hurt me. Just before going to Kerala, she blessed me and prayed that I would enjoy my trip and come back safely. And now... she couldn’t recognize me.

I felt like I would burst. I would cry till my eyes would be dry, yet, I had to stay strong, but why? Everything had lost meaning. She said she didn’t have strength to live at one point of time, and maybe that was the worst moment of my short life of 14. I went back home praying… praying that he would save Paatti (granny). If he ever cared for us humans…

The one who meant everything to me, the one I love so much wouldn’t leave me, she just couldn’t.

God came… He didn’t desert us. He came. Till now I do not know whether he came as Mrs. Prasanna Kumar or she was his messenger, an angel. She gave us her blessing, in the form of Vivudhi, which is a holy powder which we put on our forehead as a custom, to bless us each day and keep us safe, forgive us for our mistakes. And this we put on granny’s forehead, this was our ray of sunshine in that period of darkness.

And…

And she recovered. Her gangrene was receding. People who believed in pure reasoning would say “It was not diagnosed correctly. She had dry gangrene.” But I say no. I say this was not diagnosed wrongly; it is neither a Scientific nor a Medical Miracle. This was just… a miracle. The Miracles that happened long ago, the Miracles which were the doings of a power beyond us. This something cannot be reduced to mere reasons, “facts”. This something made everything meaningful. This something made life come alive. This something aroused faith in us. This something…

Some call Him Jesus, others Allah, yet others call Him Hari… But for me… he’s everything, he’s God. He is the sweet Lord who proved the docs wrong, he the compassionate one who heard our pleas, the Great One who makes miracles happen but never takes the credit for it. The One who gave Paatti back to us…

We Developed and We Won... or Did We Lose?

Just a month ago, my driver had started attending ‘Spoken English’ classes. Today when he came home, my parents being friendly and concerned as ever asked him to converse with them in English. He has always been a confident guy, so he agreed. We had sent him to get some medicines. So, the medicines that he bought, the money he spent, the balance, the conversation, everything was in English. I was astounded, to say the least! True, his English was not fluent, but it was good enough! For learning time of one month, it was amazing! Our driver learning how to speak enough English to converse in it within a month symbolized development to me…

What I had taken 14 years to learn, he had learnt a huge part of it in just a month! I went into a dream after this… If I could finish my 12 years of schooling in just a year, how wonderful it would be! I was brought back to senses by my father, who reminded me that our driver was 20 years old.

But our world is developing very fast, we can’t deny this. 13 years ago, all the knowledge under the sun was not one click away, no one said “if you don’t know it, just ‘google’ it!” In 1946, a ‘computer’ occupied a whole room. “Mankind took thousands of years to progress from wheel to the car, yet only decades from car into the space” (from Angels and Demons, spoken by Camerlengo Carlo Ventresca”)

An Ad which I would like to put on my blog:

A Speech Which Silenced the World for 5 Minutes:

But what has this cost us? We didn’t know the consequences of this development. It cost us a new subject and a few more chapters- Environmental Education. Jokes apart, it has cost us a lot. I don’t have to tell you what will happen if we continue in the same manner. It is a well known fact. The fact that it is well known shows us how much damage is already done, and a rough idea of how much is left for us to do…

Many say that my generation is spoilt and very money minded. We won’t care about the environment and destroy it recklessly for money. We will even forget our relationship with our fellow human beings.

This is my answer to them: