Jingle bells

Christmas has always been a special festival. In India, we are Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Buddhists, Jains and many more. We all live as a big family and celebrate every festival, irrespective of our religion.

I personally love Christmas. I actually know how Christmas is celebrated, even though I am not a Christian, thanks to my dear friend Avi.

Christmas for me has never been about red, green and white clothes or Christmas trees. It has always been about those Christmas parties that Avi used to keep every year.

As kids, I am pretty sure that each one of us had that slight belief in Santa Claus. Our parents left us gifts, and we thought that Santa Claus left those. The man in a red suit and with a white beard was like an angel for little kids. I think Baba Ramdev should launch a Patanjali Santa. If he gets a tond, dyes his beard white and wears one of those Santa hats, he’ll definitely look like Santa Claus.

My Christmas as a child was filled with Christmas parties at Avi’s house. I am pretty sure I can never forget the taste of guava cheese or the plum cake or the homemade chocolates or the cookies which she used to give every year on Christmas. The Christmas parties were filled with food, fun and games. I remember Avi and Oli (her brother) arguing for the choice of song almost every second minute. I remember those boys v/s girls games which were tie many times. Food was always delicious and the sweets to die for.

I was in a convent school for 7 years. So most of my childhood was spent in a Christian school. Our Christmas parties used to be super fun. We used to dance, click pictures and eat. It used to be fun.

This was Christmas for me. I love Christmas. A merry Christmas to all!

Katti-batti

Childhood is undoubtedly the best part of life. Our lives are like cupcakes and childhood is the icing on it. Childhood is all about fun and friendship. Girl-boy, Hindu-Muslim, dark-fair, all were friends. We were not bound in the chains of society at that time and were like free birds flying around and expressing joy at every moment. Friendship was, or perhaps is, that pinch of masalas in a subji (our lives) that makes it flavorful. It is like amrit as it keeps the life in us alive. Our friends are some sort of superheroes who rescue us from the monster of solitude. Friends always give us a shoulder to cry, a reason to laugh and a suitcase of unforgettable memories.

My friends are my life. I love them a lot! So let’s dive into the world of friendship and discover the different stages of friendship we had as kids. So Annie, Pallu,Vidhz,Shapri,Gauri,Avi,Dishu,Maha,Madhu,Shreya,Srija,Soumya,Gullu,Tanu,Dibya,Isha,Sid,Ronit,Dhruv,Yash,Shreyash,my sad unicorn Shruti, Tina,Ila, Wagisha and my dear sis Stuti, this one’s for you.

1)    Stage 1: Mujhse Dosti Karoge? - This is the introduction to the new friend. As kids, we are usually very shy. So we talk in this shy tone and ask the new friend’s name. I remember how I met my bestie, Annie. Our society sandpit has a red slide. The environment was lonely. I was coming down the slide and Annie was coming up. She asked my name and I asked hers. We were really shy at that time so we reluctantly told our names. And that incident began a tale of endless friendship.

2)    Stage 2: Show off! - I made a new friend! Isn’t it exciting? I need to tell the world! As kids, making new friends was a big deal. So, if some kid made a new friend, they would make sure that the world got to know about it. To show off, we used to hold our new friend’s hand and roam the world with them. We would have this expression on our face which would signal the spectator to ‘see’ my new friend.

3)    Stage 3: Katti! - The petty fights during childhood led to katti-batti. We used to fight for any random reason. Friendship of many years, friendship that we showed off was broken in a fraction of seconds due to reasons unknown to anyone. As kids, if I and Annie were left in the same room, we would surely come out with a fight. I remember Avi used to take katti if we asked her to take the den during Hide-and-Seek.  Gauri used to cry like a kid every second minute. She took katti and used to cry even if a person forgot to say ‘hi’ to her. I remember once Gauri and Shapri had pretended to take katti for what seemed like forever. Me and Annie went berserk and forced these dramebaaz to lift the curtain from their naatak. All this definitely sounds stupid now, but that’s how we were then.

4)    Stage 4: Batti! - A smile bloomed on our faces during this stage. A while after katti, we used to take our index and middle fingers, put them together kiss them and join them to the other person’s fingers so that we would break the curse of katti. Avi used to take batti when she was told to hide instead of seek. Stuti, I and Annie were like 3 idiots during childhood. So the system was that when Annie spent more time with Stuti, I’d take katti. When Annie would spend more time with me, Stuti would take katti. And when Stuti spent more time with me, Annie would take katti. So due to this system, it was really rare that all of us took batti.

5)    Stage 5: Always!- This stage comes after a series of katti-batti incidents, introduction to new friends, etc. If you can survive all the previous stages various times, you reach this stage. This is a stage of true friendship which will last forever, how much ever we fight, we remain friends forever.

I hope you enjoyed this article and could relate to all the stages. I am sure you must have experienced them.

Queens of India

Our sex ratio is 943 per 1000 females. We usually love to gossip, follow the latest fashion trends and use make up. We strive for independence. Our world is limited to the house. There we are! The women of this cultured country, striving to break this society and enter one of liberty and happiness.

The saying ‘unity in diversity’ definitely hold true for our country. The way our country is diverse, even the women of our country are. So, let’s discover this diversity among Indian women today:

1)    Speed Post:  The world knows them, but they know the world better. Gossip is their soul. Gossip, apart from daily soaps, is a vital source of Vitamin E (entertainment) for them. Even when they are away on a tour, they make it their business to poke their nose in other’s business. They add extra mirch-masala to the gossip. They gossip about everything; T.V. serials, their daughter-in-laws, others daughter-in-laws, how short random people’s skirts are, about aaj kal ki ladkiyan etc. They have this typical tone of talking, with stressing on specific words. They talk nonsense at time and could be irritating at times as well.

2)    Baby Lips: Beauty is their life and make up their occupation. They have lipstick, eyeliner, blush, lip gloss, eye shadow, lip liner, mascara and a lot more on their faces even when they go for a morning walk or even when they go to drop their kids to school. They are more made up than the actresses on daily soaps. Their stock of makeup is never-ending and perhaps more than that in a makeup store. They have a perception that makeup makes you beautiful. So they fill their faces with makeup and wait to look beautiful.

3)    Om Jai Jagdish Hare: Pooja path is what they love. They are the ones who keep upvaas and are devoted to God all the time. They usually do not eat non-veg food. They fast almost every day. Their devotion towards the Almighty is in the form of Bhajan every day, with a pooja ki thali in their hands. Their house will usually have a huge temple. A pandit will be called monthly, and a regular puja will be done on a regular basis. All sorts of bhajans are known to them. They do not come near God with their chappals on or without bathing. A lot of women under this category are senior citizens. They are Bhagvan ki bhakti mein doobi hui.

4)    Womeedrom: ‘Womeendrom’ is basically a combination of ‘women’ and ‘freedom’. So these are the free women of India. They strive to make a change, aspire to establish equality and break societal norms. They wear short clothes, are independent. They contribute to the Gross Domestic Product. Sometimes, they are paid less than men, but their dedication is way more than men. The Indian society condemns them, but they don’t really care. All they care about is their goal. They do all that men do. It isn’t essential that they are good at cooking or other household chores for that matter. When the society back-bitches about them, they just let out a smile. I love this category and aspire to be a part of it.

5)    Silent sufferers: Women suffer a lot. Be it stereotypes, discrimination, sexual harassment, social taboos, human trafficking, eve teasing, ragging, family pressure, society pressure, dowry, domestic violence, child marriage, female infanticide, bride burning, women are victims of everything. The women in this category face it all, but emerge as winners. They suffer silently. They are undoubtedly the bravest.

The Brand called marriage

10.00 a.m.: The scrappy sister is snoring like Kumbhkaran. How can a 9-year-old do a PhD in snoring? I guess she deserves a spot in the Guinness World Records Book.

10.30 a.m.: I wake up after getting fed up by snoring. My hair looks like one of those religious babas who grow their hair for a decade and never comb them. I head towards the bathroom to brush my teeth. I accidently pour liquid soap on my toothbrush instead of toothpaste. Luckily, this sanitized and soap-full toothbrush does not touch my teeth as I realize about the soap.

11.30a.m.: I have breakfast. During breakfast, I require a dose of music to mentally wake up and for my mind to start working. For breakfast, Maa has prepared a salad of cherry tomatoes, lettuce and cucumber. The scrappy sister hears the beats of ‘Cheap Thrills’, and stands up with a piece of cherry tomato in her hand. She starts doing Samba on Cheap Thrills. She is showing off her ‘moves’, when the cherry tomato falls for her hand. By mistake, she steps on it and makes a mess.

She blurts out “The tomato peed!” I give her the from-where-do-you-get-such-lame-ideas look. Maa shoots at her the you-need-to-clean-this-up look.

Baba enters and asks, “What’s going on?” I reply, “The tomato peed!”

“Did she do math this morning? She I acting like a wild animal!”

12.00p.m.: I have a rendezvous with my society buddies. My friend Vidhi wants to introduce our gang to a new friend of hers, let’s name her Friend A. I get ready and leave for the get-together. Avril calls me to ask what I am wearing today. I tell her I am wearing an animal skin dress and pink boots. She tells me I am crazy. I reply sarcastically and tell her you shouldn’t have asked dear, you know how much I care about fashion.

12.15p.m.: I reach Vidhi’s house where I meet my old friends and Friend A. Friend A reminds me of Mac Kenzie from Dork Diaries. Out of nowhere, Friend A blurts out, “Why does Sania Mirza play for India when she is married to a Pakistani?”

I reply, “Because her veins have bharatiya khoon and have you seen any sort of stamp or tattoo on her body that spells Pakistani?”

This reminds me of Twinkle Khanna’s tweet on this topic. Some random guy had told her that she should change her surname to Kumar now. She gave a really strong reply with the hash tag Married Not Branded.

I personally don’t feel getting married should change anything in a girl’ life. If she changes her surname to her husband’s, he should change it to hers. If she leaves her house, so should he. If she does household work, even he should do so.  A married woman isn’t a brand or property of her husband. She is an independent human being and should have all rights.

Salaam bachpan

Bhagvan ka roop, mann ke sacche and maa ke ladle are the children of India. We children are pizzas with a pinch of popping candy, travellers to the land of bubblegum, chocolate and candy, the Einsteins, Sachins, Latas and Sudha Murthys of tomorrow, the ultimate dramebaaz, sweet gulab jamun and rasmalai with some shikhanji and lemon, lollipops of different flavours and the royal family of mischief all rolled into one.

As small kids, we all had signature words from some alien language. For example, as a kid, godi (lap) was dabbi, cow was cow aunty and pig was pig uncle. When my sister was around five years old, she used to answer every question with the word papita (Papaya). I asked her once, what is the capital of India? She answered papita.

As tiny kids, we used to have the stupid concept of katti-batti. If someone lost a game, they used to get angry and used to say katti. The batti came moments later when some other person got a nice chocolate.

As kids, we danced like nobody was watching. When I now think of the way me and my friends used to dance, I remember the song, “Who let the dogs out?” Our dance could be compared to the moves of an animal! And singing, it sounded like Donald Trump shouting his heart out (in Hindi). We used to sing like howling wolves.

Birthday parties were filled with passing the parcel, dancing statue, musical chairs, newspaper dance, bombing the cities and other odd games. Dancing on latest Bollywood numbers with an addition of crazy steps was a very common thing. The cake had to be the most attractive ornament in the party. It was means of show-off. Gifts and return gifts were exchanged with the excitement of getting a gift. The curiosity to open it was more than the curiosity we have to know about the world or even our exam results. The birthday dresses were a big deal, ranging from yellow to grey, floral to traditional, hairstyles and makeup were also a part. I remember seeing girls applying eyeliners, blush, eye shadow on birthday parties and coming. I don’t use those things even now!

Well, makeup reminds me of something worse. Barbie dolls! Currently, I think of Barbie dolls as alligators in stilettoes with bright pink Maybelline lipstick, a Faces blue eye shadow, hair of an L’Oreal blonde color and a ‘pink’ dress. As a kid, Barbie doll were some sort of angels which had descended from heaven to save us from the ghost, of boredom. They are devilish for me right now.

Boys’ toys were much better than girls. I started liking Beyblades at the age of 9. They were so much better than those demons called Barbie dolls. Hot Wheels was also very popular. Getting the pleasure of driving a car, though not actually, is much better than creating some weird stories and enacting them with some idiotic dolls.

Apart from toys, even television was an integral part of our lives as children. Be it the blue octopus Oswald, or the fast-running Thomas engine, or the best builder in town name Bob, or Rob making us M.A.D., or Noddy’s ice cream world, or the Suite life of Zack and Cody, or Kiteretsu’s inventions, or the Wingz Club fairies saving the world, or even Shinchan's mischief, all were a pleasure to watch. Doraemon and Chota Bheem weren’t that popular. Cartoons at our time definitely had more common sense as compared to the current ones.

Nowadays, heaven for most people is a tub of popcorn with an amazing movie. But when I was small, heaven was bedtime stories. They were definitely the typical and ordinary Red Riding Hood, Three Little Pigs, Rapunzel, The Frog Prince, Sleeping Beauty, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Cinderella, Snow White, Little Mermaid and Rumpelstilskin, but their charm was just extraordinary.

The headline read, Happy Children’s Day, and all these thoughts floated into my mind. My mind drifted towards a new headline, Modi bans 500 and 1000 notes: a good move or a step towards poverty? What came to my mind after that is another story……

The divine life

Blue.

Blue?

Blue!

Blue is the color in town.

Blue is all that’s around.

Life is new,

Life is different,

Life has many shapes,

Life is full of colors,

Life is full of life.

Is this the way creatures live?

Is this is a dive into life?

Is life as colorful as this?

Is any color as bright as this?

Who says heaven is above?

Who says heaven is better than life?

Look at this life, and forget heaven.

Look at this life, and love life.

Who says the colors of a rainbow are divine?

Who says that a rainbow offers brightness?

Look at these colors, and travel the cloud of divinity.

Look at these colors, and leave the bright rainbow behind.

Red,Blue,Yellow,Orange,Pink,Purple,Green,Black,White fishes swimming around you.

They are like Gods descending from the sea.

Chocolate coated raindrops

My English teacher, Amit sir gave me a challenge to write a poem on chocolate coated raindrops:

He looked around,

Hoping for some chocolate.

But all he could see was far stretches of barren land.

Life was tough,

Money was running out of hand.

Life was like a piece of barren land.

Drought

Farmer

Sadness 

Poverty 

Came to my mind.

Then a new word made its way,

Help

So I decided to rescue him from this pool of sadness .

And give him the pleasure called chocolate.

To make his life simpler,

To see a beautiful smile spread across his face.

So I gathered my powers,

Ready to spread chocolate.

He looked towards the sky

And slowly drifted out of the pool of barren land.

To step into a pool of chocolate.

He looked up,

And saw

Chocolate coated raindrops 

Falling from the sky!

In this poem, happiness refers to chocolate, he means farmer and I refers to God.

The Indian killing machine

I have been obsessed with Adolf Hitler lately.  I was introduced to Hitler in the second chapter of my History textbook this year. I was in awe of
 the aura of World War II. Everything about the war fascinated me, but this monster called Hitler has been draining all my energy for the past few months. All I can think about is possibilities of different Hitler theories. I guess the thing that fascinated me the most about Hitler was this question: How did an aspiring artist turn into a killing machine?

For the past few months, I have been reading Mein Kampf and Hitler’s last day: Minute by minute. Apart from this, I Google every new thing I discover about Hitler. I aspire to be a historian, and this takes me closer to my goal.

So all this research work led to the birth of a crazy thought: What if Hitler was Indian? My previous article on such lines, ‘What if Greg Heffley was Indian?,’ was appreciated by a lot of people. So why not bring out the crazy possibilities and change in the course of history if the most famous killing machine of all times is turned Indian?

Historically, if Hitler was an Indian, India would have a conflict between two personalities with extremely different views. Our Bapu would have non-violent, equality, truthful views, but Hitler’s views would be full of inequality, racism, violence, etc. So historically if Hitler was Indian, it would be tough for India to get independence.

Now let’s come to the imaginative part. Just imagine Hitler in kurta-pyjama with a teeka on his forehead. I was just wondering, if Hitler became popular, he’d start a brand. Perhaps, like Patanjali, we would get Nazi dant kanthi. Just think of Hitler speaking Hindi and endorsing his brand on the radio. His brand, Nazi could be a big hit. He might start speaking at gatherings and perhaps become a philosopher. He might make some Indians embrace Nazism.

Hitler, as a popular Indian, he might surely be a part of a Bollywood film or Hindi daily soap. We never know, Hitler could be a superstar like Raj Kapoor or Rajesh Khanna!

Hitler might also turn into a baba like Baba Ramdev. Just think of him with a long beard, saffron robe and chest hair with a packet of Nazi noodles in his hand.

It was Karva Chauth last week. All I could do is laugh as I imagined Eva Braun keeping this fast. Braun married Hitler just a day before they both committed suicide on 30^th April, 1945. But they were in a relationship for 14 years. So I wouldn’t be surprised if my history textbook would have a picture of Eva Braun in a saree waiting for the moon to appear and later doing Hitler’s puja with Nazi agarbatti and Nazi kum-kum.

I am sure we all would enjoy studying Hitler’s history if he was Indian, but Hitler was the Fuhrer of Germany. The world hated him. But imagination doesn’t see hatred.  

An Indian Hitler is definitely a crazy idea.

Wings of fire

She looked around,

Eyes gleaming with hope.

She smiled,

As she saw this cruel, iniquitous, malevolent world

For the last time.

She was about to fly,

Her wings of freedom spread,

As she was ready to escape,

This prison of unfriendliness

She felt proud,

To be bold enough

To leave this diabolical world,

This unimaginativeness

 Slowly she began to fly,

Towards liberty

She felt so good,

She could no longer be fooled,

By those wicked villains

She felt happy,

She felt content,

She felt so satisfied

She felt, independent.

Suddenly,

Her wings began to catch fire,

She began to fall,

She began to fail in her motive to escape

She felt suffocated,

She felt claustrophobic

She felt hurt

She fell to the ground.

Her life began to fall in pieces

The wicked villains were ready with weapons,

To punish her for having a dream,

Her wings were cut off,

The fire of independence burnt off

Her dreams were burnt to ashes,

Tears were falling off her eyes.

The happiness, satisfaction, independence vanished.

She was brainwashed.

Her independence vanished.

So did her dreams.

She felt sad for a while,

But then understood it was for her good.

She was a girl after all,

An Indian girl,

She was supposed to sit at home,

Why dream to work outside home? It is the job of men.

Why look for independence? Aren’t we an independent nation?

Why wear modern clothes? They are for men.

Why to fly away from society? A good Indian woman accepts societal norms.

This is what she was taught.

She was denied independence,

Punished for having a dream,

Her world was her house.

Her right to dream was taken away,

Just because she was a girl,

An Indian girl.  

Kaas

I visited Kaas- a valley of flowers last week. I wrote this poem about it:

The colloidal fog particles have merged

With the chlorophyll-pigmented leaves

The sound of beautiful Bollywood numbers

Is bouncing from wall to wall

The fresh, pollution-free air

Is good for the lungs

The view of the streams,

Filled with H2O

Just makes me want to jump

Precipitation symbolizes the Water Cycle

A vibrant biodiversity,

Flowers in million

Stamens, anthers, stems, leaves

All distinct

The chromoplasts add to their beauty

The animal voices

Are echoing in the forest

The bright Sun

Is shining as a star

The pretty Kaas,

Is really khaas.

Modern Gandhigiri

Just don’t kill me for posting late. I was on a trip to Kaas, a flower valley, when this idea came to my bored-with-joblessness-mind. Mahatma Gandhi, lovingly known as Bapu in India is amongst the most powerful personalities in world history. It was his birthday recently and this article is a small tribute to the Father of the Nation.

Who doesn’t know Gandhiji? We Indians know almost every historic detail about him. So I thought of drifting away from the boring, informative articles to a more chilled-out and modern version of a Gandhi article. So this article is basically some feelings I relate with Bapu and their context with the youth’s current lifestyle. (Sounds complicated, right?)

1.   Freedom- for Gandhiji, freedom meant freedom of our nation from the British. But for students, freedom is a long list. Freedom from exams, studies, to play, to read, from parent’s and teacher’s pressure and expectations, to bake, to sing, to dance, to chill out with our buddies is just a mere 10% of this long list. We are more of a we-don’t-give-a-damn-about-the-nation kind of population. Our thoughts for freedom are confined to school and play and hobbies.

2.   Peace- Peace for us? Putting in headphones and hearing 1D, Hardwell, Justin Bieber, Katy Perry or Selena Gomez’s latest track or our beloved Bollywood numbers is synonymous to peace for us. Peace for Gandhiji? It was singing Raghupati Raghav Raja Ram. That shows development. Bhajan to hip hop. Sometimes I wonder, are we from the same country?

3.   Non-violence-This doesn’t feature in our lives. We follow the vo-do-maare-tum-chaar-maaro* policy. Gandhiji was the ultimate idol for non-violence. Are we really his descendants?

4.   Selflessness- Gandhiji did not care about his life while fighting for freedom. He was very altruistic. He was monotheistic, his religion being freedom. We are more under the self-centered category. For example, reading is religious for me, social service or altruism don’t even feature in my list.

5.   Patriotism- Gandhiji and patriotism are synonymous to me. We all are so patriotic that we dream of jobs in international markets (I’m being sarcastic). Gandhiji freed this country for this country to live. But our eyes see just Paris, Chicago, New York and London.

Hope you enjoyed this article. Bapu is the best!

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*vo-do-maare-tum-chaar-maaro-violence

The unimaginative babe

8.00 a.m.: I wake up. It’s a “holiday”. Well, the day cannot be called a “holiday”. Who wakes up at 8.00 a.m. on a “holiday”? A normal person doesn’t wake up before 10.00a.m on a “holiday”. It’s a preparatory leave. The word “leave” sounds vibrant, but the word “preparatory” drains all the indefatigable energy. A preparatory leave is supposed to be to study and prepare. But honestly I don’t prefer waking up at 8 when I have waking up at 10 as an alternative. Unfortunately exams force us hapless students to sacrifice our beauty sleep for marks.

Sleep feels like an endangered animal, a critically endangered one. My panda (sleep) has reduced from a 100% of 10 hours to 60% of 6 hours. My exam score harms my sleep marks!

8.10 a.m.: My thoughts fluctuate towards how exams harm us students. We are all Alok Naths before exams, but turn into Gutthis and Dr Mashoor Gulati from Kapil’s Show after exams. I seriously consider looking for mental asylums, to escape from these hoodoo exams. I feel like the victims of the Conjuring movie and exams are Bathsheba. The exams are removed from our lives by an exorcism i.e. sleep sacrifice. I am seriously sick of exams.

9.30 a.m.: Maa tells me that a relative is coming over. I express my happiness by some exclamations.

11.00 a.m.: The relative (lets name her Relative A ) enters. She immediately reminds me of Miss A from the Kaali Maata Ki Jai Ho incident. Her glowing and pimple-less face reminds me of a peeled and boiled potato. Her face has a golden glow without any patches. I’m sure she spends a lot of bucks at the beauty parlor. She has one of those typical wedge-like heels slippers (which I hate). Her bright yellow silk saree is a bit too flashy and doesn’t suit her age. The amount of ornaments on her body might be equivalent to the weight of a Sumo wrestler. Her face is filled with a bright pink blush and a bright red lipstick with a very thick layer of eyeliner and a bright blue eyeshadow. Those colors don’t even go together! I think she seriously needs to alter her fashion sense and make it more age-appropriate. 

11.05a.m.: Relative A starts telling me about my short hair, pair of  shorts, big height. She tells me to go and get some chai  for her.

I tell her I need to study for my exam, and escape.

1.30 p.m.: Its lunch time. I come for lunch. Relative A tells me to get some rotis for her. I obediently obey and get her some rotis. Then she tells me that exams will keep coming, but opportunities to serve the family and do household work rarely come. I backfire.

I tell her the following:

·       Thank you caring for me. But please just mind your own business for a while.

·       I have dreams for my future, and serving the family isn’t even on the cards.

·       Exams take me towards my dreams.

·       Even I hate exams, but washing utensils and jhaadu-pocha isn't any better.

·       If you would have taken your exams seriously, you would have got a slightly more common sense and would have known that the struggle for Women’s rights has started.

She gives the “haww” expression. Her red lipstick spreads and just adds more to her overall untidy and shabby appearance. She doesn’t notice and concentrates on her food as if nothing happened. I use the Rancho (3 idiots) technique getting to know prices.I deliberately spill some food on her saree. She tells me that it’s a 10,000 bucks saree.10,000 bucks for this saree! I wouldn’t give a paisa for it! Thankfully, she leaves soon. I study.

Dear exam,

Exams are driving me so crazy that I am writing a letter to exam to get over my frustration.

Dear Exam,

                   This is to inform you that you need to die soon. I wish I was one of the Gods who could give you a shrap* and condemn you to hell. I’d love to make your pakodas** and fry you in hot oil. I hate you. You are the most frustrating, merciless, irritating thing I have come across (after the scrappy sister). You are worse than Hitler, Gabbar, Mogambo,Kancha Cheena,Shakaal, Rafal and Voldemort. All students hate you dude! Don’t you feel ashamed? Go into hiding!

You are like trial by fire. You are like the horrible movie Happy New Year. You are like a saas*** and we are the bahus****. If we students find you some day, you will be murdered brutally. I am giving you useful advice, hide somewhere and leave us alone.  You live your life and let us live ours.

I just want to ask you these questions:

• ·       Do you want to study about the latitudinal extent of the non-existing Lilliput island?
• ·       Do you want to study for 10 hours a day?
• ·       Do you want to study 4 and 3 subdivisions of 2 subjects and mix them up in your head?
• ·       Do you want to sacrifice your favorite “Torture” show for yourself?
• ·       Do you want only an hour's sleep a day?
• ·       Do you want to dance and look like a psychopathic patient affected by you?
• ·       Do you want to sing exam anthems?

I am sure the answer must be no. Just accept the fact that nobody likes you and just get a spaceship and run away to Mars!

Run or die.

Tortured and sick of you,

Aastha

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*shrap- curse

**pakodas- a fried indian delicacy

***saas-mother-in-law

****bahu- daughter-in-law

The Exam Anthems

Exams are the most horrible moments in a student’s life. They make us feel like we are about to vomit. On the other hand, everyone loves music. It is a relief from the typical exam timetable. So whenever you feel frustrated, turn to these songs to express your stress. These are the “exam anthems”:

1)   Ratta maar: This means ‘mugging up’ all the exam information. This song from ‘Student of the Year’ tells the way a student learns his/her chapters. ‘Ratta maarke’ we learn the chapters for the sake of exams. But it leaves our mind the moment after exams.

2)   Pareshaan: The chorus of this song where ‘pareshaan’ means ‘worry’ is synonymous with a student’ mind during exams. We are ‘pareshaan, pareshaan, pareshaan, pareshaan’. Pareshaan is THE word for our plight during exams.

3)   Pyaar hume kis mod pe le aaya: (Just replace pyaar with exams) So this song is applicable during exams. Our heart goes “haaye” and we are like ’koi ye bataye’ (tell me the answer!) when we see the question paper. When I see a question paper and I don’t know an answer, this song echoes in my head.

4)   Tadap tadap (Just replace pyaar with exam,again) Our heart says ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ and exam feels like a ‘saza’ (punishment). It feels as if we have done some ‘gunah’ (crime) and exams steal all our relief. It feels like we have done a crime in our past life and are paying for our sins.

5)   Ye dosti hum nahi todenge: (we won’t break this friendship). This song deals with the eternal, immortal and (unfortunately) never-ending friendship of tension and exams.

So these are my ‘exam anthems’. Hope you enjoy singing them. 

   

The Superheroes

I know I am late and I apologize. Exams just don’t seem to end. So this week I will post 2 entries.I had the honor of presenting a speech written by me on this occasion. So this is that speech with some extra jokes:

“A teacher is a doctor who heals ignorance and an artist who inspires creativity.” This holds true for all our lovely teachers.On this special occasion of Teacher’s day, I would be giving an introductory speech on the most important people in our lives – our teachers.

When I was asked to write this speech, I started thinking of ways in which I could make this speech unique, interesting and memorable. We all know that Teacher’s day is celebrated in remembrance of the remarkable teacher Dr Sarvapalli Radhakrishnan. We all know that this day is his birthday. But we forget that it is also a day to celebrate Gods and Goddesses called teachers. That is what I am going to talk about today. This speech is an explosion of my lava-like-views about our beautiful teachers. It is a beautiful fabric of threads called ideas.

Teachers are parents not bound by blood; they are storytellers of stories called subjects. Their knowledge is like a vast ocean. Their knowledge is like never-ending saas bahu* shows which go on forever. Teachers are our very own Spiderman, Batgirl, Iron Man, Wonder Woman, Captain America, Shaktimaan, Shakti, Harry Potter, Super Girl, Percy Jackson and Katniss Everdeen(sometimes they might look like those too). They are rockstars,superstars,dancers and the leading members of the “future” council of the country. They are Mitsee to us Shinchans,they are Doraemon to us Nobitas.

Sometimes I feel that we are like untamed, wild animals and teachers are civilized humans who tame us. They mould clay-like students into sculptures; they cook raw-vegetable-like students to make perfectly cooked sabji. They turn spare parts into complete machines. They are the directors of a movie called- A Student’s life.

We make their lives tough by all our masti**. We behave like purple minions from “Despicable Me 2”, we trouble them, we make their lives miserable, and we are the reason for their stress. This teacher’s day, I just request you all to give our teachers the respect they deserve. Their stories, confusing questions, immense knowledge, surprises, calculations, jokes, crystal clear explanation, and inspiring speeches aren’t easy. Not everyone gets such cool, awesome, fantastic, lovely mentors.

So friends let us do our little bit for them...nothing big and unachievable just small deeds like listening to them, being regular with our work, respecting them and above all grooming ourselves to be good individuals whom they can be proud off. Be like your inspiration!  A very happy teacher’s day to all our terrific teachers!

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*saas-bahu: typical indian serials about mother-in-laws and daughter-in-laws

**masti- mischief