short story

SHORT STORY


In a quaint old town along the beach lived an old nurse Cecelia with her grandchildren, Zachary and Abigail. They stayed in a small but neat cottage surrounded by trees. But the largest and most intriguing tree of them all was an oak tree.
Everyday Zee and A along with their dog, Stefano would come up with new ways to hurt the tree as this was their idea of fun. The poor tree bore it with patience, for that’s what trees do. (Not like they have much of a choice!) But one day, their lives came crashing down when they learnt that their grandmother had unstoppable (and mind you really loud) hiccups. These hiccups being unbearable, the poor old grandmother was taken to the hospital. The children of course not knowing that their grandmother only had a bout of hiccups wailed and wept under the great oak tree. Much to their surprise and bewilderment they heard a voice from above, the children thought they had heard the voice of God, but it was only the oak tree. (It was followed by disappointment but they lived with it, after all one does not meet a talking tree everyday)
The tree explained to them how it was in fact a magical, enchanted oak tree with healing powers and if they listened carefully then it could cure their grandma. In all excitement the children agreed to do what they were told. The tree told them that all they had to do to make her well again was each to give up their most favourite thing in the world. Upset, the children had no choice but to give in to the tree’s demands. Abigail decided to give up her favourite pair of jeans and Zee gave up their dog, Stefano.
It was a dark and stormy night when the children took their offerings to the great oak. Drenched in rain they reached the tree and gave up their possessions. Little did they know that the tree had been working for this moment for a long time. All its life it had been a victim to their harshness and it bore everything with patience. (For what else can trees do.) The tree confessed that it never had any intentions of curing the grandmother but in fact it was all a ploy. Gathering its entire wrath the tree used its magic with a vengeance and instead of curing the grandmother of her hiccups it made them worse. A few minutes later, the grandma choked on her own hiccups and died.

Shraddha
Kripa
Navya
Purnima
Varnika
Pia

Standard, did someone say?

Every year Cascade attempts to tap the talent of school kids. To encourage them to participate, and to give them the thrill of winning. Every year we see a new batch of school kids, a bright lot, that seems to be full of energy and zest. But unfortunately that’s about all they seem to be full of. And each year this new batch gives the NBS members reason enough to continue organizing Cascade- the laughs.

I’ll explain.

Despite all the attempts to raise the standard of competition, every single year the standards just keep dropping. I personally think its because the kids are getting dumber. Well what do you expect if you spend all your time numbing your brain from playing on your PS2 or watching absolute crass on television? A brain overflowing with knowledge? I think not.

Any way as I was saying, these kids’ brains seem to be deteriorating with such enthusiasm that it scares me to imagine what my children’s generation will be like!
Well one thing’s for sure, all that these kids lacked in intelligence, they made up for in humour. This year they were an especially funny batch. The only thing was that we were laughing at them not with them.

There were so many instances of dumbness floating around the place; it was hard to keep a record. Allow me to present my case.

Exhibit A: Hollywood, Bollywood, what’s the difference?
4 days before the event, I got a call from one of the participating schools. They had a query. The category for dance this year was Western and the school in question wanted to know if they could do the Salsa. “Of course” I assured them and gave them the go ahead signal. During the course of the conversation they happened to mention they were dancing to the popular track “Right here, right now.” I was aghast. I pointed out that this was a ‘Western Dance’ competition. Of course, how could I be so foolish so as to forget that that this was in fact a rap song with only “two or three lines in Hindi”. Later on they even got their principal to call me and argue their case. I was left speechless.

Exhibit B: Dumb, dumber, dumbest Charades.
Dumb Charades seemed to give NBS member the most laughs this year. Reason being, the school kids had no idea what is was they were to act out. Take for example this, which happened during the finals of the event: The book that was to be acted out was ‘The lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe’. To begin with, neither the actor nor the guesser knew what we were talking of. And then to top it off, they somehow managed to get “ The ________, The Witch and The Wardrobe” and still failed to guess the right answer.

Their final guess was: “The Monster rabbit, The Witch and The Wardrobe.”

Exhibit C: Sleuth: Has anyone seen my brains?
Sleuth is one of the most fun events at Cascade. It is a treasure hunt that takes the teams on a chase all around Cubbon Park. Now for this instance I would like to tell you what the clue was and where it leads them. Each clue had a clue to the place they were to go next, and a password they had to say in order to get their next clue. This particular clue said this:

Elvis Presley
Michael Jackson
Mufasa

Password: Who is the Lion King?

Their destination was the King’s statue at the front of the park. This one team decided to come to the bandstand instead. These were their exact words:
“This is the place, the clue has Mufasa and lion king on it and that leads us to The Ashoka pillar that has 4 lions on it. I know it, I just know it!”
I tried explaining to them that, that wasn’t what the clue meant, that there wasn’t even an Ashoka Pillar in that area. Finally I gave up and told them they were to go to the King’s statue. They ran off only to come back 45 minutes later and tell me they had no clue where the King’s statue was.

Exhibit D: Of innovative responses and Creativity.
This one is absolutely priceless. When asked “ What do you think should be the theme foe next year’s Cascade?” for the personality prelims, one especially bright student answered, “Cascade 2007.”

I rest my case.

-Kripa

Confusion!!!:)

Yeah I think this is my situation with respect to everything that seems to be happening around me lately one absolute doubting thomas in life.........I mean think about it forget me for a moment and think dont't we all always question everything ....take for example the dress code in college dont we all unanimaously(not sure if spelling is rite) keep questioning what why who where when ??? though we know these questions are rather rethorical in nature..and coming down to the more basic Wh questions like why is the earth round ?why are there only 9 planets(so far) why dont we get more holidays in college why dont irritating people just jump in a dry lake..I'm extremly sleepy and i'm going to use this as a very convenient excuse for this horrible post.....please bear with me :D(i hope i've done this right)

Che

I’ve always been a fan of Che Guevara, but my admiration increased greatly after watching the ‘The Motorcycle Diaries’. I became a fan. I think I was fascinated with the idea of a young man giving up, what could have been a comfortable life (as a doctor) to become a Cuban revolutionary. But beyond the film my knowledge of Che was really limited. So I decided that it was perhaps time to google Che before I started writing ‘Eternal victory’ (a slogan he used a lot during his time) on my jeans.
I am fascinated by what I read, but what amazes me most is his popularity. The man is everywhere— T-shirts, magazines, graffiti and tattoos! Che is the ultimate symbol of rebellion. Every self-proclaimed radical swears by him. But not every self-proclaimed radical can honestly claim to know him. This has to be the greatest irony of communist history. The man who journeyed from medical school to guerilla warfare; who took many lives for the communist cause before finally losing his own, has suddenly become a product of capitalism. A trademark for every wannabe renegade.
There were plenty of other great revolutionaries, who fought alongside Che, but perhaps it was his charisma, coupled with the fact that this was a man (full of idealism and beliefs) who died young enough to be worshipped that made him a commercial success. Passion is always a great seller, and coupled with martyrdom it is an unbeatable combination. Just think of all the geniuses who died young and you’ll know what I mean. They’re untouchable once dead—all past mistakes are forgiven and forgotten. This applies to Che as well…had he been alive today he would have perhaps been labelled a terrorist by George W. Bush, and hailed by Fidel Castro, both unappealing images of this man.
I wonder then, if history is really a just structured hypocrisy…the winner decides the truth, and in this case the winner is capitalism.

But then I’m not complaining…I’ve always been a fan of Che Guevara and I always will be.

Bhanu

Omniscient Lie

Inching towards the ultimate black hole,
Tempting doom summons my battered soul.
Seeking an escape, I look ’round for thee,
Alas! Conspicuous silence alone greets me.

Vanquished at thy feet I lie,
Stifling life piercing inside.
Muted cry of anguish scorned!
Art thou Satan in the guise of God?

Master of the divine sanctuary,
Where wert thou when I needed thee?
Hallowed keeper of the multitude’s faith,
Did thou flee, when I came in thy quest?

O powerful Creator, art thou a lie?
O merciful Saviour, art thou just a lie?

khadija

Dead beat...er...Bert

How do you react when someone tells you that they have a scorpion for you? Well if you are anything like me, you might wonder what you said or did to the person that made them hate you all of a sudden and want you dead! It was this precise thought that struck me, when a friend of mine rather generously said that she had indeed brought me back a scorpion from her trip out of town. Seeing the shocked expression on my face she quickly added that the scorpion was dead, but that did little to comfort me. A dead scorpion for a present! What would people think of selling next? She began to unzip her bag to take out the dead scorpion, and I was squirming at the thought of having to open out my palm and accept it. Thankfully for me the moment was deferred for a while with the teacher entering class at just that instant. Alas! It was only temporary relief. After the hour was up, she seemed to have forgotten it. But after two, there she was, excitedly grinning, and dangling a zip lock bag in front of my face. I was relieved to find that the scorpion was embedded in a block of plastic. I suppose that it was evident from the expression on my face that I was not used to receiving dead animals as presents and so she explained... Apparently she had bought the scorpion from some Tibetan monks. She had originally stocked up to them with the sole intention of reprimanding them for killing scorpions and selling them. But when they told her that they only used scorpions that were already dead, she quickly fished out money and bought a bunch of them. The sage monk is said to have told her that the scorpion would protect you from bad luck. Now how something that is unfortunate enough to have spend the rest of its decomposable days embedded in a block of plastic, is going to be able to protect me from bad luck, is far beyond me. Not only that, I quite frankly think that it is rather disgusting looking. Ugly is the word for the critter. But the fact of the matter is I actually think I like it now. Other than the fact that it was given to me with all good intentions and good wishes, there’s something about that arachnid that simply grows on you. ‘Tis true I am afraid, that I now have a dead pet. I have decided to call him Bert. He resides in his plastic block, is not fussy at all and doesn’t eat. All largely owing to the fact that he is dead! Thus, he is by far the easiest pet to maintain. Of course I can’t play fetch with him, but well, we can’t get that picky now can we?! But the best part about him – if you are nearly dropping off to sleep in class, a look at Bert’ll ensure that you are wide awake!

So when you’re dead beat, it’s time for dead Bert!

-Vaishali

Blissfull pain!

Shut the door of the past,
trying to ease the pain.
Dream of fading lights empty or insane.
How hard will they try? Everything's gone.
How long will they walk alone?

The churning of the stormy ocean come look upon like calm,
A thorny bush with hallucinations of a palm.
An image of green pastures ahead is hope to push on.
So many faces all around yet the birds crying a song.
A song that revervberates in the deepest corners of the mind.
Wonder if anyone will ever answer it with kind.

Smiling at the angry sky walking on,
Seeing the sunshine during the storm,
The voice that so incessantly asked to dream on
Now laughed mockingly as the day was gone.

Martina

Why?

On the 11th of July, 2006 India saw another very traumatic event. Also now known as the 7/11..the seven consecutive bombings in one of India’s prime cities, Mumbai has left us all in shock. Still the never sleeping city is trying to live up to its name and is continuing to live its normal life. Though the people are hesitant they continue to go to work and school like nothing happened.
The question is why would anyone want to do something like that?? Is there no value for a mans life anymore?? Just because we are a country of billions does it mean that our life doesn’t count?? The life that god has given us, that life which only he has the power to take away, how is it that man seems to think that he can be God? How? Terrorist say that it is jihad and that it is Allah’s wish…no offence to any Muslims…but really is that what your Quran says? Man was given life to cherish, not to treat it like some trash which anyone throw away or destroy. Don’t people who do things like that feel bad about the innocent lives they are taking?? Or do they think their god would understand and forgive because according to them its for a good cause? What good cause? Isn’t there anything called humanity left on this planet?? Living for society, living for life…seems like none of it matters anymore. What point can anyone prove by taking away innocent peoples lives? If one wants to prove a point then educate yourself and fight for it in a way which is human? And if you are so proud of what you are doing then come outright and do it…why act like cowards and hide away?
To add to it, the political situation in the country is so bad that people always seem to keep passing on the blame and no one seems to want to do anything about it.
At the end of it all I can say is that it disgusts me to think about this revolting act and that its easy to blame each other but its tougher to stand together and make a difference.
-Chandni-

The Little Grey Cells' Blog

Note: this piece of writing is not meant to preach; it is merely the confused ravings of a clueless media student.

I’ve been thinking about what, C K Meena said in class today about news channels projecting SMS and internet surveys as representative of what the majority of the population think. I think this practice shows exactly how we, view the world. By we, I mean people our age and of the same socio-economic backgrounds. A lot of us believe that the world we live in, the lives we lead are all there is.
Take the reservation policy for instance. Of all the people protesting the move, how many were people who lived below poverty line? How many were OBCs? The majority of the students protesting belonged to upper middle class families. I’m not judging the anti-reservation campaign or taking sides but I think that the urban middle class controls the majority of the opinions and information. And it is the urban middle class that the media reflects. This is especially true (in my opinion) of the English news media. How many pro-reservation campaigns did CNN IBN cover?
When we make a stand against reservation, how many of us are aware of a little dalit village called AB colony about two hours from Bangalore without electricity, sanitation or schools. And how many of us know that just a few yards away separated by a brick wall stands an upper caste village (Boodhikote) where almost every house owns a colour television with cable!

We don’t know simply because we’re dependent on the media for our information, and we don’t care because we’ve been fashioned to think that there is no world beyond Bangalore. So medical students of Ramaiah College get our sympathy, votes and mails, but the disillusioned dalit youth of AB colony don’t even register in our awareness. So how can we claim that the choices we make, the stand we take are based on informed decisions?

And we’re supposed to be the future of the Indian media!

-Bhanu

Say What?!

It so happened that one day we were supposed to have class on a Saturday. And, this class wasn’t mentioned in our time table. It was a very important class since we were nearing the end of a semester and we had a lot more to cover. The teacher, very anxious to take class and finish the portions, called one of us a day before and said “please pass the word around”. Surprisingly though, the Saturday came and there were six out of thirty students in class!

“Where is everybody?” she asked. We all said we had “passed the word around”.

Here’s another instance. Quite recently there was a cat fight in college! One tore the other’s clothes. One got scratched on the face and both were suspended when some lecturers intervened. The “word” wasn’t supposed to “go around”! However, within a day there were many stories flying about college. Everyone went about telling the others “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”, and every one of these narrated the story like they witnessed the whole scene personally. One said that one girl stole the other one’s boyfriend! Another said one of them called the other a b**** and so they started pulling each other’s hair off! A few more stories went around and soon the whole college knew about it. The most surprising part is, this too was after college hours and wasn’t of course mentioned in the time table! So how did the “word go around”? This question always stays.


How come information about a class being scheduled out of routine doesn’t go around? And how come news about someone “stealing” another girl’s boyfriend reach everyone like it has been broadcast on AIR? No one knows. No one ever will.

Moral: If you want to pass on some information, however important it is, ALWAYS prefix it with the sentence “Don’t tell anyone, okay?” (Even if it is about having an exam the next day!!)

-Kiran

Life

We had just finished our New Years Eve party at Jack’s house.After all it was the tradition of the Class of 1986 to meet every year at someones house so we could catch up on the whole years activities.Of course the party began in one year and ended in another!We were all so caught up in our lives that we hardly had the right to call it a “life”.I was an architect.Almost all year round I would hear people calling me “Mr. Evans.” Finally I was being called Nathan.This showed how much time I really had for my personal life.
After we had had our rounds of “Happy New Year”, “Thanks Jack” and “Bye,Jack”,I turned to walk home.A friend of mine did ask me if I wanted a ride but as I did every year,I refused and continued walking.This was the only time I ever had time to myself.Besides,I lived only a few streets away.I always took this time to recollect the things I had done over the year. I used this time for introspection.
I walked along the street and began thinking about my wife.I had not spoken to her for a very long while.I began to think of all the good times we had had and how I had foolishly given her up in favour of a job.When a zooming car passed by,I suddenly became aware of my surroundings.I had taken the wrong road.I found myself near a graveyard.Being the artist I was,I could not take my eyes off the beautiful gravestones.I simply had to go in.
I went in and a sense of peace entered me.I felt at rest.I strolled through lovely gravestones and paused at ones that were either architecturally appealing or ones that touched my emotional side.Some children had died at the age of 1 and 2.All I thought was , “How unfair!”
As I moved towards the gate to leave,I heard the soft sniffing if a child.I turned and found to my surprise a young boy sitting in a tomb.He was wearing a blue baseball cap which made me think instantly of my child.I did not know if I had a son or a daughter.I was so caught up in my life that I hadn’t even bothered to ask my wife when she had had our baby.
At first I thought I would leave the boy there but then I decided to go ask what the matter was. “Hello there!” I said.He looked up at me with the most warm brown eyes I had ever seen.It looked like he had been crying for a long while.I sat down beside him and tried to ask his name.He didn’t reply.Then all of a sudden he caught hold of my arm and began sobbing into it. “Mum said she would never leave me and go…and now she’s gone and I have no where to …”.He didn’t even complete his sentence but I knew what he meant.The little boy was now afraid of being alone.I asked where his father was but he replied that he had never seen his father before.On hearing this,I felt very guilty.I too had never met my child.I began to feel more and more ashamed of myself.
All of a sudden I felt like I had to do something for this child.I had to find him a home.And a nice one at that.I felt some sort of bond grow instantly between us.Also,I made a mental note to go home and at once talk to my wife.Not because I had to but because I wanted to.I hugged the boy and asked if he would come home with me.I had assumed my wife would take me back and our child would have a sibling to grow up with.Several thoughts went through my mind but one predominated.My wife and I would have a family again!The little boy jumped at the idea of coming home with me and eagerly asked, “Mister,may I call you daddy?” “Of course!”I replied.
We got up to leave.I had my mind set on making up with my wife,meeting my child for the first time(I personally wanted it to be a boy) and having her meet our new son.His name I had still to ask.Hardly had the thought of asking him his name crossed my mind,did he say, “Im Jamie by the way.”I chuckled to myself because that was what my wife always want dot name her son!What fun if we had two Jamies!I walked away from the gravestone towards the exit…towards a new life…even if it meant giving up my job.
Suddenly something inside of me made me want to turn and look at the grave.With out realizing it,I had been sitting on the grave of someone I did not even know.I owed the boy’s mother that much respect of at least knowing her name.After all I was taking her child now.I turned around and looked at the epitaph of
“Shannon Evans”-My wife.

Aakanksha
Dont laugh.I thought I'd once in blue moon write non-sport stuff although it doesnt seem right.

Back in the day, my family really took one line in the Bible to heart; Go forth and multiply.

My great grandfather had 14 children. Each one of those children believed that their father was right in taking that line and devoting his entire life to it. As a consequence of that belief they virtuously had around the same number of children. Each. My great grandfather probably died a happy man believing himself to be the one true propagator of the faith, for, as a legacy, he left behind him 104 grandchildren.

My father, one of eleven children, has 93 first cousins and I have not even attempted the impossible task of determining how many second cousins I have. Luckily for all of us, less was the new more during my parents generation and they stuck to 3 children. Though sometimes my younger brother makes my older sister and I wish that the new more had been a maximum of two.

My mother is the oldest of six children, quite a normal number when you begin comparing it to 11, 14, 16 etc. Quite some time back, her younger brother, my uncle, had decided he didn't want to have children. My grandmother realized that reproducing like bunnies was not quite in vogue as it was in her day but seemed to think that we as a family could not be allowed to die out. She already had 15 grandchildren but believed in taking precautions. She tried tears, she tried threats and even tried the much overused "I'm old. My last request...". Finally she threw in what she thought was her fail safe; "God said go forth and multiply".

She still has 15 grandchildren. I still have 14 cousins. My parents still have 12 nieces and nephews. And my uncle still has no children.


Raisa

Hope i have got this right

Well i hope i got this right this time....Things are going to be so weird with no sports to watch on tv there has really been an overdose lately what with football an formula 1 and wimbledon...Zidane's behaviour was unbeliveable. Its so unlike him and the worst part is that people are going to remember him for that last match .Though Italy was not one of my favourites I think that they definitely deserved to win.Their defense has been rock solid in this tournament.
It was awesome to see Nadal in the finals.The king of grass versus the king of clay. Nadal played really well considering the fact that this is only his fifth grass court event, and the fact that he is so cute just adds to his charm!!!!
Priscilla

A BAD END TO A FANTASTIC BEGINNING

"Zizou,Zizou,Zizou!"These are the chants you can hear in any football stadium when either France or Real Madrid are playing.One of the most popular footballers of all time is Zinadine Zidane.True Beckham is more popular but more so for his looks.Zidane has achieved the status purely on his skill of playing.He is one of the most respected players and even opposing teams have no choice but to bow down to 'THE GOD'.
After the FIFA World Cup Finals,which saw Italy win its fourth title,one would certainly have a change in opinion about Zizou.He fouled Materazzi for absolutely no footballing reason.The result:RED CARD.Zizou walked off the pitch angry,humiliated,insultd and more so regretful.The master has failed.It was probably the most unexpected event of the whole world cup itself.Some have lost all respect for Zidane as what he did was not something that one would expect on a football pitch much rather from Zinadine Zidane.The GOD himself has erred.
While the world complains that it was a very stupid thing to do,Zidane himself must be thinking of the most logical explanation he can give himself.I am sure,however,even the football maestro could not come up wiht something that would erase this black mark.He has let down his fans all over the world.But something must have really affected him.It was such an uncharacteristic move by a usually calm man,that it seems most unreal.
Zizou won his nation the World Cup in 1998 but lost it for them in 2006.But he lost far more than a trophy on that day.Zidane lost his reputation.For years to come now he will be known as the "Angry man who let his country down".But deep down Zidane will know he let himself down more than anything else.It left a bad taste in our mouths but it left a feeling of regret in his mind,
We as fans however can change this.We can...no...we should...forgive the man.He made a mistake.We owe it to him.He gave us the best of football and gave football the best of him.Are we ready to let one mistake,granted it was a stupid and serious one,surpass the greatness of e legend.After all he is Zizou-The God who can do no wrong.
Aakanksha

The Little Grey Cells' Blog

The blog in purple is from me Pall

The Little Grey Cells' Blog

The Little Grey Cells' blog
Hey you guys...this weekend definately has been pretty eventful in the sports scenario... with the Wimbeldon finals and of course football finals on tonight.I hope tonights match is as exciting as the match between Italy and Germany . I think I barely recovered from the first goal, which was scored at the 118th minute when the second goal was scored. I must confess that Im more of a "football worldcup" fan than a football fan. I guess one gets carried away with all the hype!! Unfortunately Im going to have to miss Desperate Housewives tonight,as the match timings and the serial clash. Okay I know some of you must be doing the eye roll as you read, but those desperate women are a great source of entertainment for me...enough of whining from me Il just have to wait for Saturdays re-run. Remenber to stay up tonight or else wait for another four years for this moment.. See you guys in Psych class tomorrow....

ROTI

My name is irrelevant. It's my story that matters.And I am saying it because I know that there are more like me out there who haven't mustered the courage yet. I am their voice, for now.

I live a few blocks away from the most posh area in the city. I live in the largest slum settlement in Asia. That's something to be proud of, right?

I have two siblings; I wish I had parents. My job is very demanding. I am constantly on the run, waiting for the next red signal, literally. I have to market myself well if I want to make any money. And my 'boss', just like most others, is a terror. I do lead a very eventful life but you'd never want to trade lives with me. I am a beggar.
I went to school till I was 10 and then bhai (my boss) decided to take my siblings and me into his business. We couldn't resist, we didn't have the right to. If I had said anything, you wouldn't be reading my story. I remember that day very clearly, the three of us stood in front of him, scared. We had heard of this 'screening process' before , but never thought we'd be the victims. He stared at us for a long time. His men looked at us eagerly like hawks waiting to swoop down and catch their prey. I didn't understand it. Then finally, he spoke.

He told his men the first one was okay. The hawks had missed their first catch. The second one needed some work here and there. My sister was taken to a room and in a few minutes I heard her screaming. I knew what they were doing but I didn't dare to move. His cold eyes were now directed at me. He took longer than usual to judge me; I needed a lot of work. He told his men that I didn't look 'beggar enough'. They were waiting to hear just that.

It has been a year since and my siblings and I report to bhai and hand over our earnings, in exchange for a roti. Somedays if I haven't got enough money I have to sleep hungry. Bhai's is the biggest business of this kind; almost 900 children like me. And it's difficult to hide anything from bhai because he has his men all around us. They wait patiently for us to falter. They too have to earn their roti, right?

Everyday I stretch out my hands and stick my face to the clean windows of polished cars asking people to help me earn my roti. I wish I were on the other side of the window. I live under this false hope that someday I will be able to make a change in the world; that I won't let my present be some child's future. I want to bring an end to all the injustice. I wish...

Imagine all those children you see on the streets, did you even once think where all that money went. No one even tries to scratch the surface. People are either sympathetic or apathetic but they won't accept our reality, even if they know it. More than bhai's beatings, it's people's ignorance that hurts. So much for your good deed for the day!
- sharanya

Words

Why is it so exciting to write? Writing is like flying, suddenly you can see a great deal more across and downwards, and you are leaving behind so many contexts into which your voice had to fold over and fit. Suddenly you are speaking for yourself. You can scream, you can whisper or you can sing and every word is welcomed into the sky's vast accepting.


Remember however that writing, like flying is hard work, both require a rigorous, well motored, well-remembered pattern of intuition and planning, else flight in mid-air will change into crash-landing fall.

And you must know the sky, when it will turn and come at you with dark venom, when it will suddenly sulk an withdraw its winds, or when it will burst into a exultation.

Its a lifetime of work. And search. But the finding is worth every painful trial-and-error.

K

I dream a little dream...

“It won’t work.” “Don’t expect so much from it.” “You think too big.” “You hope for too much.” “You’re only going to be disappointed.”
Hmmm…. Where have I heard that before… Lets see…. EVERYWHERE!!!

People seem to have stopped believing these days, and it seems to me that they’ve forgotten how to dream. I’ll correct that. We’ve forgotten how to dream. We’re so caught up in our lives that we’ve forgotten to look around. We’ve lost faith in almost everything and are afraid to trust. We’re a race of people who believe that the world is out to get us.

I know someone who once jumped off her bed, thinking she could fly. I know someone who used to write letters to Santa Claus, for he believed. I know someone who would religiously put her tooth under her pillow believing the tooth fairy would leave her something. I know someone who believed he could take over the world, and maybe even do it some good. But all that was a long time ago. In a different time and age. The same people have now lost faith. They’ve forgotten what they once believed. They’ve forgotten how to believe.

Mostly cynical people now surround me. As I said, they think the world is out to get them. They lead mechanic, almost unreal lives. Barely live even. They’re the kind of people who have lost faith in almost everything- even love, and refuse to give anything a chance. And so, they somehow manage to dampen the spirit of those who do believe.

What’s wrong in dreaming? In dreaming big? What’s wrong with believing that you can make a difference in the world even you’re one small, insignificant nobody? What’s wrong with believing you can fall in love, and stay there? What’s wrong with believing in magic?

Nothing.

It’s just that everyone thinks that you’re naïve when you believe in such things. And then they take it upon themselves to give you a reality check for no particular reason. If that’s not bad enough they continue to tell you that you’ll never be able to do anything that you’ve ever dreamed of because it’s a big, bad world. They dog you down until you stop believing. Until you begin to lose faith. But don’t. Don’t lose faith. If you do, then we’ll just be a world full of faithless idiots, where we’re afraid to believe.

Don’t stop dreaming.

Kripa.

After all they are humans...

With the FIFA World Cup 2006 coming to an end soon (yes indeed it is quite depressing),most people are thinking-“What happened to Brasil?” It seems almost unreal that a team with the worlds best players went down to France,an aging and out of form team.But as we saw,the unexpected happened.Brasil lost and the champions had to hang their heads and walk away from the pitch.France on the other hand looked proud.After all they had defeated the best team in the world.
Fans of Brasil will obviously look for excuses to support the team and of course the easiest of all excuses is “the unfair refree”.Its true that cameras show Ronaldo did not deserve the yellow card as he does not appear to have even touched the French player.But as they say all is fair in love, war and sports!Back home in Brasil,pictures and player jerseys were burned.It was as if the Gods had let down their people.To them I say, “There is no way else but down after you reach the top.”
Brasil,as a team,has performed over the years far better than any team has ever and it will certainly take a lot more effort from any other team to reach their class of football.The Brazilians appear to be born to play the game.Other international teams think hard about which player they send to play the World Cup.After all it’s the chance to be the best of the best.Brasil on the other hand can send in two teams.Brasil A and Brasil B teams can be sent up to play.And for all you know it will be a final with the Brasil A and B team!That is their potential.Sadly,it did not show this time.
But as happens in every sport ,there comes a time when one champion gives way to another one.One player gives way to another.In this case,France played a better game and the 2002 champions looked far from the quick and skilled team they were.Ronaldo,Ronaldinho,Carlos,Kaka did not play their best but they are human beings after all.They made mistakes.They did their best but France did better than that.In all fairness,France clearly was the better team and the better team should move forward.
This World Cup left several hearts broken.Mostly Brasil fansl but looking at their next generation of players Brasil look set for World Cup 2010.I cannot sign off without mentioning that I AM A BRASIL FAN and all I can say is VIVA BRASIL!
Aakanksha

The Traumatic Effects Of Dumbness

Well if there’s one thing that I cannot stand – it is dumbness! Actually, of all the things I cannot stand, dumbness by far ranks the highest. Except of course when it happens to be my own and I am forced to put up with it. See I’m no masochist, and any bodily harm that befalls me, you can be rest assured was not self inflicted. So you can imagine what torture it was for me to have to spend one month in Pune with a roommate who was there to do her “Am Bee A”! No no, don’t get me wrong...I really did not have any problem with her accent. I spoke very flawed Hindi myself, so I thought that between the both of us we made a rather interesting hash of both languages. But have you ever had that feeling... Well the best way to describe it really, is the way Joey from FRIENDS does. “Every time I see her, I want to rip my arm out just so I have something to throw at her.” That best describes my emotions! And we actually lived in the same room!

See the first time I felt like that, was on my third day of staying there. She was doing her laundry, and I was trying to drown my sorrows in Wodehouse. Suddenly she came running into the room screaming that the washing machine was not working, and there was a leak. I went to investigate. The thing was if the machine really was broken, I would have to chip in for the repairs, and trust me, if you’re living off your parents, but in a strange city, you do become a tad penny-wise. The roommate (and here I use roommate as a replacement for several other words that I think would be too rude to use) had not bothered to put the light on in the passageway where the machine was kept. Fear not, I knew that I had in fact reached the washing machine, (she had yanked the plug out owing to the supposed leak, so there was no sound to follow) when I stubbed my toe against it. I think I muttered “Bugger the machine!” under my breath. The curse was directed entirely at the infernal machine itself! But my roommate thought otherwise.
“You are saying to me foul language!” she asked in an angry tone. I didn’t really think that it was worth an explanation. There was a crisis on hand (or so I was lead to believe) and I had no time for all of that garb. So instead I said something to the effect of “No no! What I said was the buzzer on the machine...”
It worked. She kept silent. I fumbled in the dark for the light switch. When the lights came on, I saw what the matter was. That was when that feeling first took a hold of me. I stood there arms akimbo, looking first at the washing machine, and then at my roommate, who refused to do anything other than look at me expectantly and blink with the rapidity of one of those Japanese animated characters. It did not help the situation at all. I pointed at the knob on the machine. Still no response. See she had selected “drain”, and had been busy pouring buckets of water into the tub to fill it. It took all my will power to keep calm. I then explained to her what she had done in a surprisingly calm voice. She proceeded to guffaw loudly and whack me on the back. Not the best thing to have done. But I said nothing. I even forced a weak smile, and went back to my Wodehouse.

Later that night two more things annoyed the hell out of me. They were caused by her. First she asked me whether there was a beach in Bangalore. The second was when I went to take a shower later that night and found that there was no water left thanks to her “drain and fill” technique.
How I managed to come away from Pune with neither arm being used to launch an aerial attack is a miracle.

Coming soon (hopefully): More things that make me wonder how I left Pune without committing murder.

-Vaishali

my first ever poem

Where have you gone?

Conflicting emotions
Fears and apprehensions
The soul cries out
And gropes for light.
The mist refuses to rise.
Chaos abounds,
Lonely and desperate,
I long to confide.
No ray of hope,
Darkness surrounds.
Where have you gone?
Oh! Where have you gone?

Encumbered heart,
Crimson, wet eyes,
Anxieties escalate,
Smiles fade,
Chasing my dreams,
I am lost.
Horizon awaits,
Enigmatic whispers
Beckon my name,
Darkness surrounds.
Where have you gone?
Oh! Where have you gone?

A kaleidoscope of memories,
I reach out to touch,
But, they fly by
Illusions on golden wings.
Nostalgia grows,
Suffocating me
Agony declines to abate,
Darkness surrounds.
Where have you gone?
Oh! Where have you gone?

Love craves,
Passionate desires,
Feeble fantasies,
Virtual realities,
You elude me.
My beacon dims,
Darkness surrounds.
Where have you gone?
Oh! Where have you gone?

Khadija

Of Packaged Food and People

Another supermarket opens in town offering you “The Best Shopping Experience Ever.”
How is it the best? Well, it has that many more rows of perfectly colour-coded vacuum-sealed items, each waiting to be picked following a guns-fully-blazing advertising campaign.

Everyone’s thronging The Mall. This one has more floors, more elevators, more glitz. So what if the shops are same as everywhere else. So what if two stores away the pink T I just picked is half as cheap because it comes with a different label. So what if everybody would know exactly where the aforementioned T was purchased. After all, wasn’t that the idea?

One would think that the new brand of retail culture would leave us spoilt for choice, with each item on the shelf promising to reach out to each one of us and satisfying individual needs and tastes. Does it?

It doesn’t matter. We don’t care about being individuals anymore. Besides, where is the space for individualism in a world of six billion and counting fast?

It starts early. Right from being wrapped in pink blankets or blue; from sharing a birthday with an estimated 225000 others in the world; from having a name for which Google comes up with 81000 pages. School teaches what hundreds before have not learnt and labels a student with marks that come with an expiry date of a few months. College trains one to become what scores before haven't become. The “hottest jobs” today are the ones where half-baked “professionals” hardly out of college are given a name-tag and an incomprehensible accent both of which they are loath to get rid of for even a minute, and take pride in the incompetence that makes them work ridiculous hours. The latest craze among the future of tomorrow is a social network that has each of its many thousands of users labelling their sense of humour as dry/sarcastic/friendly/clever/quick witted. (That should be fun.) Everyone is expected to sell themselves knowing that others will either find fault with the product or never expect it to be anything great anyway.

But we aren’t here to feel sorry for ourselves at any loss of individualism. McDonalds and free coke affected brains and systems have adapted incredibly well to the new way of living. Indifference to self is now a part of our genetic make-up. We have learnt to take pride (if and when we feel anything at all) about being a statistic in somebody’s research. It is my top priority to be a walking advertising board. I’m waiting to be persuaded into jumping onto the next bandwagon with the rest of the world.

Nobody is deluded enough to think they are “different.” And God forbid if they were different.
Who wants to stand out when they can fit in? Just another brick in the wall….

Karunya