The stain of blood

The blood-stained cloth lay comfortably in her blood-clotted mind.

She lay restless.

And stared at the four unyielding pillars that surrounded her.

Society

Tradition

Impurity

And Guilt.

All gazed at her,

Menacingly,

And unperturbed.

Was she truly impure in these few days of her life?

Did all her serenity, purity and tranquility also leave her soul along with that hideous red liquid?

Did all her good vanish with that one drop of evil blood?

Was the red fluid what defined her?

She didn’t think so.

For her, red was purity.

Red was as tranquil as the red lehenga she had adorned on the pious day of her marriage.

It was as pure and powerful as Goddess Durga.

It was as feminine as she was.

She wanted the four pillars to collapse,

Along with the beliefs they encapsulated.

And she knew that only she could conquer them.

She stared at the blood-stained cloth.

She walked towards it.

She lifted it.

She looked at the one tiny door which stood amidst the four pillars.

She walked towards it.

And opened.

With each step she took, one pillar fell.

But she continued to walk.

Until she reached a spout.

She poured the water from the spout onto the cloth.

It colored her water-like life with the pure blood.

The pillars fell.

And she rose.

With the blood brighter than ever.

The Battle of Streamipath- 2

Humanities: I think we can certainly try yaar,  but first this whole ‘caste system of streams’ needs to be abolished.

Commerce: I agree with you. People say that the mentality has changed, but trust me, it hasn’t. In our country, its just thought that the dumb kids take commerce and humanities, and all the smart kids take science. That is so not true.

Science: But at the end of it, you guyz do need to accept that I am the most important. I mean, your subjects are all ratta, anyone can do them

.

Science sings ‘Ratta maar’ from Student of the Year.

Humanities: I don’t agree with you. I’d say that all streams are equally important.

Commerce: Ya, I agree with her. And, our subjects aren’t ratta. Just tell me how you can study economics or accounts by rote learning.

Humanities: Or even psychology and sociology.

Science: Arrey, but students from your stream cannot pass NEET and JEE.

Commerce: Arrey, they pass CA and UPSC.

Humanities: All those coaching classes  that engineering or medical students go for become a curse for the children, matlab even the kids who genuinely want to become engineers or doctors, find it difficult due to all that pressure thrust upon them. They are pareshaan.

Commerce and humanities dance on ‘Main pareshaan pareshaan pareshaan pareshaan….’

Science: Even your CA and UPSC classes aren’t less. Students take 3-4 attempts to pass the exams. UPSC is all cramming useless info, and it isn’t even of much use later. CA is mahan, the most you guyz earn is 24 lakhs, I’d earn that much in a month.

Commerce: Who will your engineers and doctors turn to when they need advice about financial records, haan? Who will fill their income returns and maintain their financial records?

Humanities: Who will look into the issues faced by the people who do not have jobs in the IT sector? Who will represent our country on a global platform? Who will arrest the corrupt doctors who take extra fees from their patients?

Science: Accha, and why don’t they arrest the most corrupt people- the politicians? Chalo maan liya ki you guyz have some use. But you need to respect me if I need to respect you.

Humanities is really sad after hearing the comment on politicians. She is as still as a statue.

Commerce: Chalo theek hai. We are all equal now. All of us need aadar and samman so that our country can scale new heights. Kyun, kya hua Humanities?

Humanities Devi changes her roop to Political Science, who sings the following song:

Tadap tadap ke iss dil se aah nikalti rahi,

Mujhko saza di corruption ki,

Aisa kya gunah kiya?

Toh lut gaye, haan lut gaye,

Haan lut gaye hum desh ki mohabbat mein.

All of a sudden, she calms down.

Humanities: Bolo?

Commerce (shocked and stammering): Hmmmm….We..were..actually…talking about…mutual..respect….

Humanities: Okay, I’m fine with it. Unless and until the topic of corruption isn’t raised again. You see, I turn into Kaali maata when someone does that.

Science: I guess we saw your unknown side.

Commerce: Okay! So we are all good! No more fights.

Humanities: No more allegations.

Science: No more hypotheses!

Humanities and Commerce (together): What?

All three join their hands and say “Stream maata ki jai ho!”

DDLJ title track plays. A little boy dressed like Shaharukh Khan from DDLJ  with a mandolin enters and sings:

Tujhe dekha toh ye jana sanam,

Asli stream hoti hai vocational sanam.

Ab baaki streams ko kahan bheje hum.

Unke subjects ko kahan bheje hum….

Commerce: Ab tu kaun hai bhai?

Vocational: Vocational. (removes sunglasses and says). Naam toh suna hoga.

Science: Kahan kaam karta hai? I mean in those clothes, no engineering firm would let you in. Tum dono ki hi streams ka hoga ye toh.

Humanities: I don’t know him.

Vocational: Don’t worry senorita. Bade bade streams mein aisi choti choti baatein hoti rehti hai. I’m the career education stream and I prepare people to work in various streams.

Commerce: We officially do not accept you as a part of the stream clan.

Humanities and science nod in agreement.

Vocational: Sattar minute, bas sattar minute hai tumhare paas. Tumhari zindagi ke sabse keemti sattar minute. Inn sattar minute mein decide karlo ki kahan jana. Kyuki yahan toh mai tumhe rehne nahi doonga. Main streams ki industry ka badshah hoon!

Science: Tu hamara kuch nahi bigad sakta. Tu badshah hai toh hum thalaiva hai. You cant even hold a guitar. Guitar ko bhi Doraemon ki small light se chota karke use karta hai. Dumbo.

Commerce: We won’t let you do so. We support Make in India! Doraemon Japanese hai.

Humanities: Aye haye. Guyz that’s a mandolin. But still Mr Vocational, aap yahan nahi reh sakte.We just decided that we will respect each other and now you came out of nowhere. Streams, chappal attack!

Science: Yes! I’ll even check at what speed it hurts the most.

The three streams launch a chappal attack on vocational and he is driven out of the park of education.

Moral of the story: There can never be equality among streams in India.

The Battle of Streamipath- 1

Humanities and Commerce are walking together in the park of education. Humanities is in a typical traditional attire of sari and bindi, whereas commerce is wearing a suit and tie.

Commerce: Arrey Arts! You’re shining too bright nowadays yaar! The 12^th toppers for the last 2 years have been from Arts only!

Humanities: Commerce! I have told you so many times! Its not Arts, its Humanities! The other two streams, you and that Chatur Science have such complex names, why should I be stuck with this stupid 4-letter word, haan?  Anyways, this victory isn’t mine, its ours , over that stupid science.

Rajnikanth music plays in the background. Science enters in the attire of Superman with black goggles, and puts them on in Rajnikanth style. Instead of the Superman logo, his costume has the face of Einstein on it.

Commerce: Aiyo rama. Logic ke chakkar mein science forgot that the underwear goes under the clothes. That’s why its called an underwear! Incase he’s planning to use it as a marketing strategy, Science ji, nobody is going to buy an underwear with Einstein drawn on it.

Science: You Commerce! You see how I switch off all the computers during your marketing meeting. You are nothing without me! I’m the best! I’m invincible! I’m Thanos! *evil laughter*

Humanities: Do you even know who Thanos is? I thought you didn’t get time to watch movies.

Science: He’s some superhero na? I bet he is so powerful just because his name rhymes with cosmos! I told you na, I rock!

Commerce: Hey Ram, this person is as Chatur as Chatur from 3 idiots.

Science: No beta, I’m Rancho.

Humanities: Did you know that Ranchi is the capital of Jharkhand?

Commerce: The mines in Jharkhand will yield me so much profit! Humanities, partnership  mein business karegi?

Humanities: Well, I’ll have to see its historical background for that.

Science: Hahaha, bola tha na. You can’t even do your mining without my technology.

Humanities: As if you can pick your mining site without looking at the geographical factors. Matlab kuch bhi bolta hai.

Commerce: But whatever said and done, bechara Science suffers the most.

Science: I refuse to believe such hypothesis which has not been proved by mathematical means. I require formulas to prove the same.

Commerce: Chalo, take simple statistics, 60% of India’s engineers are unemployed.

Science: Since RHS is not equal to LHS, I do not accept these facts.

Humanities: Bhai, MBAs also only 7% are employed.

Commerce: Oye Humanities, what about those politicians indulging in corruption and all, haan? Aren’t they doing ‘socially irrelevant stuff’?

Humanities: Half of the politicians are uneducated.

Commerce: All I know is that Rahul Gandhi has a degree in International Relations.

Commerce goes to Science and hugs him. Goes behind and winks.

Science: Commerce, what was the aim of your experiment?

Commerce: To prove that Arts isn’t as “humanities” as she says.

Humanities: Vah vah, so much stats and information. But don’t forget my dear, even Modi has an MA degree.

Science: But best was Kalam. ‘Cause he had a science degree.

Humanities: But he respected all the streams. Science, seekh unse kuch.

Commerce: If he can do it, why can’t we?

…….to be continued

Dreams of reality

A tiny piece of land stood,

In the bright blue sea.

The tall and authentic tress of Palm,

Swayed with the wind that brought about calm.

The birds let out their euphonious chirps.

The grass was fresh every morning with the drops of dew and joy

The Island was happy.

So was she.

This was her home.

It was like a cozy and fluffy blanket which protected her soul from the merciless world of the sea.

It was a cocoon which protected this little butterfly.

Her soul felt safe, and she was content.

She wasn’t alone.

Everything on the island was a part of her.

She wished for nothing to change.

But change is inevitable.

One fateful morning,

The bright sunshine turned inky.

And the dynamic sky cried.

The trees stopped swaying.

And the girl stopped smiling.

Each part of her was deteriorating.

And her state was heart-breaking.

The waves of the deadly sea shot up high.

And gulped the island of her dreams.

They took her with them.

She sunk, she drowned, but she floated too.

She balanced with the ups and downs of the sea.

This poem is basically a representation of what my friends and I are feeling after leaving our school. The island is our dear school and the sea is the world we are venturing into.

Baarish, not monsoon

Monsoon is here. The gushing wind trickles the trees and they sway with perfection in an attempt to escape the fierce yet gentle brush of the wind.  The grey clouds gather around the bright morning sun to guard it from the boisterous little drops which will soon arrive to quench the thirst of the barren land. And when they arrive, they are like tiny pearls which go and fall on the dry and hungry land and form a pretty necklace of green and glee. These little pearls also graze against our glass windows. The slimy green frogs and the crawly earthworms embrace the little drops of water like a blessing and a gift from the sky above.  The atmosphere is dark, but each drop brings with it a fragment of hope.

That essentially summarizes what monsoon is in the poetic sense. But it isn’t what an Indian monsoon is all about.

Monsoon for us is a time for our cherished rain dance, and not for getting our old umbrellas out. We get inspired by our iconic Bollywood songs, be it Chak dhoom dhoom chak or ek ladki bheegi bhaagi si, each song and each star is remembered in times like these. We love to jump into the dirty puddles for they splash happiness on our faces. The little paper boats float in almost each little ‘stream’ which forms in monsoons. An Indian monsoon is incomplete without a plate of pakodas. The crunchy little pakodas are like a blessing in the rainy season. Onion, paneer, mirchi, aloo, bread, each and every item available at home is dipped in the pale yellow besan and fried to perfection in loads of tel and love. Maggie is another saathi for the monsoon. Sitting with a bowl of piping hot Maggie and a cup of chai or coffee, looking out of the window at the lovely raindrops sounds like the perfect monsoon. Cozying up in bed with your favourite book, or sitting on the couch all day with your favourite video game or movie is also amazing. An Indian monsoon is unique and there is perhaps no country where monsoon is as exciting as it is here.  We don’t have monsoon in India, we have only baarish.

Sooraj nahi hua maddham

Finally, I let my creative juices flow to give this article. This article isn’t one of my best ones, but I’ve tried something different and hopefully humorous:

9.00 a.m.: I feel something wet around me. I wake up with a start. Half of the bed is wet. I’m way past the phase of peeing on the bed, but is this the return of the pee monster? Thankfully, no. I’ve just drowned in my pool of sweat. I am a cute little bacchi who sweats like a big fat piggy.

10.00 a.m. : I check my phone and my dear friend Thalia (pet name) tells me that the temperature today is 40 degrees! I do a ‘haww’ and type ‘Hey Ram!’ to show my exclamation. She tells me to use some other exclamation and I come up with ‘Hayo rabba!’. She asks me why I am so obsessed with these God-related exclamations and all I tell her is that they are pretty much automatic. Besides it’d be really weird if I start exclaiming using my favourite celebrity names. Just imagine Haye Dhoni or Haye Sindhu!

11.30 a.m.: I look outside and the song that plays in my mind is – sooraj hua maddham, chand jalne laga. Aasman ye haye kyu pighalne laga. I don’t really know about the aasman, but I’m sure that I’ll melt if this stupid garmi doesn’t stop.

12.30 p.m.: Our internet package is over. Thanks to Fawad Khan. My family has been obsessed with the Pakistani shows Humsafar and Zindagi Gulzar Hai and watching them till 12 in the night is seriously violating my sleep-by-10 policy. But then Fawad Khan just looks too good to be missed. So before calling me a desh drohi, check out his picture.

2.00 p.m.: After a delicious lunch of my favourite bhindi chawal, I decide to finally start doing some constructive stuff during my vacation. So I decide to walk it up till Phoenix mall and get some books from Crossword. But I’ll do so  after just one episode of Zindagi Gulzar Hai……

4.00 p.m.: Where did all the time go? Its 4! That whole one episode paitra works neither in movies, nor in real life. I’m late. Baba offers to drop me till Phoenix, as the sooraj is not maddham and walking in this heat might lead to atmahatya.

4.30 p.m.: I reach Phoenix. On my way to Crossword, I bump into my dearest friend Malia (pet name again). She’s shopping with her maa and asks me if I have some time to spare so that we can do some time  pass. I tell her that currently I’m the most jobless person on Earth, so I have all the time.

4.45 p.m.:  We are roaming around the mall, drinking Masala Lemonade, calling random people, talking about other people and cracking super lame jokes. We step into H&M and start looking around but turn around once we look at the prices of the  outfits, cause even if we buy a hairband here, we’d go into some major loss. Our dhai sau rupaye can’t even buy us one of those stupid bunny hairbands that one gets here. We now start praising our desi MG Road street shopping.

5.00 p.m.: I’m walking towards Sephora, where we are supposed to meet Malia’s mother, when I hear someone calling “Aastha didi!”. Everyone except my sagi behen calls me that, so I turn around to see Papita and Bookworm (pet names!) who are two sweet little sisters aged 5 and 9, and are the scrappy sister’s chaddi buddies. They have been our neighbours for 10 years now and unfortunately, are shifting. They are with their grandparents. I say hi and talk to Miss Bookworm, the shareef one, while Papita, the gundi stares at me in awe and asks where my parents are. I say that I’m alone. I get a shocked expression.

5.05 p.m.: After the accidental meeting, Malia and I proceed towards Sephora to help her mom with some lipstick shopping. Neither of us is fond of makeup, so we tell Aunty that we won’t really be able to help. So while aunty tries out new lipsticks, we roam around the place and our nazar goes towards an eye shadow. Malia exclaims that even she has eye shadow, but under her eyes *points towards her dark circles*. I let out a sarcastic laugh.

5.30 a.m.: After a lot of debate, the lipstick shade is finalized. Maa calls. She says we are going out and tells me to reach home soon. I bid a teary farewell to Malia and head home.

7.30 a.m.: We reach a faraway mall for dinner and start looking for a good place to eat. We find a place with a lovely ambiance and outdoor seating. It’s pretty breezy here, so I start feeling afraid about my hair and dress flying away.

8.30 a.m.: Thankfully, nothing flies off and we have a decent dinner. Now we need to visit the washroom, thanks to the 3 glasses of water and 2 glasses of cold drink. We reach the washroom and realize that there is a daughter-mother pair inside the washroom already, having a conversation which is pretty lame:

Mother: Beta, are you done?

Daughter: Haan mamma, ho gaya.

Mother : But you’ve hardly done anything. Try doing a bit more.

Daughter: Par mamma, nahi aa rahi.

Mother: Theek hai, turn your face now, mamma will also pee.

(I guess the daughter turns)

Daughter: But how does mamma pee?

Mother: Just the way my baccha pees.

The daughter starts asking the mother whether she can touch the things the washroom and the mother refuses.

Daughter: Mamma can I turn now?

Mother: Two minutes, beta. Arre, don’t touch that its dirty!

I hear a loud sound, I think someone falls! After two more minutes, this iconic drama pair comes out and the condition of the mother is totally shabby.

I guess this heat has just made everyone mad. Hey Ram, don’t give such an ‘adventurous’ day to anyone in the future please. And this is just April, I wonder what kaarnamas May has in store.

Sophie

I had my board exams so didn't get a chance to write anything for a long time.  Finally, here I am:


The tinted soul stared at its tinted reflection.
Her reflection was stained with the bad memories that resided in her soul.
Her reflection showed her ghastly conscience.
It showed the bald-headed evil witch that resided in the blonde-haired pretty princess.
She wanted to be good,
But the truth of her sombre soul couldn't ombre with the colour of the lies the world told her.
Love had betrayed her.
So had her best friend.
 Love had only meant hate.
 ‎She stared again at the reflection that stood before her,
 ‎And let out a smile.
 It took years for her to understand,
 ‎That she was her true love.
 ‎That only she could accept the light from her dark soul.
 ‎She loved just one thing truly, the thing which loved her back-
 ‎Her Mirror.

This poem is based on the character Sophie from School for Good and Evil