Sunday, February 27, 2011

Summer Rain...

Summer rain;

Swapping between land and water

Then, Under the tawny shade of a wild mushroom

Green croaks of two toads,

As they huddle their leathery skin,

Jump higher than the other in joy

And sing duets in muffled voices

Summer rain;

Switching between truth and trance

Then, Under the warmth of a wrapped dream,

I utter words into your mouth,

You chew on them, absorb the crux

And create verses from the relics.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Is this love?

Is this love?
when i see
again and again
i find it difficult
to concentrate where i am...
i still remember hitting myself
falling flat
spilling the coffee...
Oh God!
Is this love?
i cant explain
the emotions i get
its all so misty
and warm too
but however troublesome i get
i love this feeling..
Is this love?

Is this love?
Am confused...
I wish my mom remove
that television set out from there..
before i eat up the spoon
rather than the food!!!
Life
This is been a mystry till now;i still dont know whats happening....its quite sometime...and i havent gt the annswer yet...

I feel lonely,lonely means just a sort of an empty feeling when i think of myself!!!
A feeling that its the end to my plans till now;the plans i planned.....
i feel quite lost..

Its always good to make future plans but never as wide as i made because its India... after all a changing world;and the people...
Nothing remains the same..u plan something and the next year everything has to change....its just not the God or Fate matter its just this society.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Hi......uh......so I'm not the only one huh........?

It's contagious, seasonal and it spreads fast affecting all those who come in contact with the affected. The victims, obviously, are all students.

Hi!! I just dropped by to tell you all that I'm showing symptoms of the same fever that has made all the students in here disappear. So until the fever wears itself out, you wont be seeing me again.So until we meet again, Adios amigos......and KEEP SMILING!!!!



P.S. All the very best to all students preparing for their exams!!!!

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

What's That Word?

I thought of coming to Wordsmaid today after having to confront a lot of that-word-is-in-the-tip-of-my-tongue situations. Ye all know what I'm talking about. You are writing a piece and all of a sudden you cannot think of a particular word. You know very well there is an apt word to use and may have used it in the past. No synonyms would be good enough. You are looking for that one word but it just won't come to you at the moment. I can tell you nothing can be more frustrating for a writer (here a writer would refer to anyone who types words into a computer, viz., me!).

This has been happening to me a tad too often recently I can only blame my lack of reading for it. Is that when this happens, Mr Wordsmaid? Need your advise. And also your prescription on how to rid of it.

MY LIFE

Thrilling rain and thundering winds,
Beating upon the lane outside,

Cooling down the scorching heat,

Suspending me to purer thoughts.


Sitting beside this windowpane,

Where splashing droplets bathes my face,

On which the old age had its game,

I'm forced to caste a lingering look.

Looking back I can see,
The saga of my life in glee,
The splendid moments that made me gay,
The chilling griefs that made me cry.

Lying in the depths of ground,
I waited for the touch to wake,
The touch of God carried
me,
Outside to the sparkling world.

Exposed to this wonder world,
Full of glittering stars above,
Stood I wonder-struck,
Can I become those stars one day?


Slowly slept the stars in quiet,
The moon too in deathly quiet,
Came the blushing sun in speed,
Spreading its joy to the entire world.

Taking heat and light I grew,

With water and compost too,
First in stem along with leaves,
Being one among the living beings.

Dancing with winds and trembling in storms,
I came up in joy and fear,
Praying to God who is near,

Sharing love to my siblings dear.

If I needed care at first,
Now I need nothing else,
I grew into a teenage tree,

Sidelining the God in me.

Zooming into a dream-like world,
I then became blind with pride,
I am the strongest green and wild,
Queen of the world with branches great.

New flowers came on me,

New colours bright and cool,
New fancies slow then fast,
New melodies and soundful thoughts.

Birds and bees came as guests,
Fell in love with them utmost,
Kissed me with their honeyed lips,
I gave birth to little seeds.

Brought them up with same concern,
The love, the care and joy I got,
Felt happy in their lovely flight,
Upwards for a newly life.

Spring came , summer came,
Autumn came , winter came,
Time passed , days passed,

Months passed , years passed.

My barks shrinked , my water vapourised,
I was set in a gloomy scene,
To watch the lonely stars at night,
Sitting by this window side.

I know the day will come,
For me to say "GOOD BYE",
Good bye to this world so dear,
forever sleep...the eternal sleep.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Just 4 you

A return to home after a long time . I could n ‘ t control my happiness. It was midnight and I could n ‘ t sleep . The sweet memories about my home and my childhood filled my mind with joy .

Even now I remember her , her sweet smile and wild eyes . Am I loving her ? I do n ‘ t know , but she is precious for me than everything . Now it is the right time to open my mind before her . Then the Moon and the flowers would be praying for me . Suddenly an unknown fear shattered my pleasant thoughts . Will she remember me ?

It was with a lot of expectations , I went back to my home . When I reached near the steps of my house , some fear caught my mind . But I tried to keep a smile over my face .

The rays of the Sun were trying to come out piercing the mist . It was so beautiful . I saw the mango tree in the yard and it also brought sweet memories to my mind . It welcomed me . My heart beat was increasing and each moment I was waiting for her .My family members were so enthusiastic and talked each other for a few moments . At last , after a long period of 10 years , I saw her . She was hiding behind a pillar.

I went to my room in order to take rest . My parents along with my relatives left me alone in my room . I was just waiting for that moment . Without the permission of them , I went to the yard . There I saw her and I presented her a box full of gifts . All those gifts were expressing my love towards her .

I was eagerly waiting for her reply . she smiled at me and gave me a feather of peacock. It was a gift I presented to her in my childhood days . From that I could feel her love for me . Then I felt gratitude to God for giving me such a wonderful moment . More over I was thanking her for her love.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Sorry!Beggars..

Traffic jam-my daily waste of time.But that day a man with strange behaviour attracted me.A young man of unknown age in torn red shirt and black jeans.No more dust can occupy his dry hair and body.I have seen many beggars in my city.But i felt some speciality in this man.
He was sitting under the tree beside the road.First I thought he might be physically challenged.But soon I noticed that he had no such problems."Then why does he beg?".My anxiety raised.I began to watch him closely.I found then he was talking to the tree.'He is mentally ill',I concluded my findings.
He might have been thrown out of his family.No one might have helped him.There would be no one to share his sorrows and to console him.That would be why we talked to the tree- his home.My thoughts moved from one to another and I felt sympathy for him.
He was still talking to the tree.Sometimes laughed,othertimes nodded.'He may be talking about the cruelties of the world which will not give him a bit of bread to him but throw it into the dust bin',I thought.I was unable to help him now.I took strong decision to help him in future.
With pitiful eyes I stayed looking at him.In the next moment causing me a thunder shock,he took a bike parked beside the tree and went away like a rocket.Later I came to know that"my beggar" was a highly fashionable young man with 'youth icon' mobile phone.The dress he wore is the latest fashion'I really felt pity for him.
Sorry real beggars for my misunderstanding.Beware of these "unreal beggars".It will be good to use your own symbol to distinguish from those creatures.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

What's Cooking?

I kept my word. Read a book before showing up in wordsmaid. Mr Wordsmaid was not happy with the absence, I could gather by the way he grunted every time he called and mentioned the blog. Brainy as I am, I could also quite get his meaning when he said he would do a vanishing act if none of us pitched in. It meant he would do a vanishing act. When it came to words that centred around certain acts of disappearance, he did more than he said. So here I am, little girls and not-so-little men.

So my book is one the rest of the world that called itself readers had finished long long ago. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. Thanks to the man I would call Mr Editor for the rest of my life - a.k.a. Sabin. All his attempts to use his voluminous build to cover his little shelf of books went in vain as I jumped overboard and grabbed three of his priceless treasures. Blessed as he was, the little man's dimensions did not come a long way if you took the route upward.

The mood - completely misaligned with one that read The Kite Runner - comes from the fact that I was drawn to another PG Wodehouse soon after. I am an addict, could not help. Ye all know the story of Hassan and Amir. You don't need me to talk about its literary glory. Let's talk PG. Manu, I believe, has already written about humour writing. PG's style employs a simple game of words, especially meant for those with an imagination. It is no fantasy. But you need to see his words. Not just read. I thought about pasting an extract here. But I realise the context matters. So let's just trust my word for it - PG rocks (one verb I am sure neither of our editors are going to approve).

Well, I was passing this way. So thought I'd drop by and say howdy. Why don't ye all update me on what you've been reading. Advise me too. Anything humoury for me folks?

Loneliness

He covers me as a cloud.
Who hides the powerful sun
Sometimes it is a relief
No tension,no more relations

He helps me to hoodwink all around.
He helps me to think over everything.
And helps me to take right decision.
So sometimes i love him more than anything.

Everybody is saying he is wrong.
I don't think so
He gives me chances to realise myself.
I love him more than anything.

I don't know he loves me?
Yes! Sometimes he also loves me.
That is why he comes again and again
I love him more than anything.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Disharmony

On the hill top a house,contains 3 bedrooms,kitchen and a sitout.In front of the house,we can see a 'charukasera'.In that sits a man of 75.He is not alone there.On his lap his granddaughter,malu is nuestling towards his chest.She is the apple of the eyes of grandpa.They are talking very seriously but when we sharpen our ear,we can understand what they say?It is about silly things.Because that is their world.

They are enjoying their childhood.

Every evening,they go for a walk.Malu steps first holding her grandpa.They are very interested in watching the natural scene.They like to hear the lullaby of water.They sit down on the banks and they talk to the ripples of water.They share their happiness.They lead a happy life in their world.But suddenly she comes.......

His daughter comes from Singapore.She rakes up troubles in the house.What will they do?They don't know.But they know one thing.They lost their calm life because of her.

Gradually malu's father tries to vecate their house.His quest comes true.He gets a rental house.He asks permission to his father.But grandpa doesn't utter a word,he takes malu and embracing her starts weeping.

That night grandpa couldn't sleepwell.He stares at the whitewall.Slowly he inches towards reality,"malu will never come back to me."We will never go to the same river banks,never hear the song of water.He curses his daughter.

Next morning,malu comes to grandpa with an innocent smile.He gives her a glass of milk.Usually it was with sugar but now it is bitter,bitter with salt...When his son calls malu,grandpa stands with heart-breaking pain.His eyes fills with tears.He gazes at the path.

Suddenly it rains in torrents.

AWAITING LIGHT

Deepa is waiting.... Days passed. January,February,March....months flew away, 27 years, yet she is waiting!

All these years she didn't know what she waited for but now, she did. It is for her beloved father.

She watched the moving ants. She clapped when the flies wrestled each other. She looked on with surprise when the belly of mosquito swelled with her own blood. But she didn't notice when the mosquitos flew away with her months and years.

Deepa is interested in the world. But her interests are limit to certain things only, that are what considered as negligible for the majority of the world. Alas! Her world limited to the small circle for more than 27 years.

Deepa doesn't know anything about her past and nothing about the present. But when she was born , her parents had a lot of dreams about her. They loved her twinkling little eyes, black curly hair and teethless mouth. But they never gave her parents any idea that their daughter is mentally retarded.

She stared into vaccum, when her sister played with others. She watched the unfurling of flowers. The flowers bloomed and witherd. Her parents sighed.

Age wrote changes upon Deepa. Her legs and hands grew. But they left her little dead eyes and curley hair untouched. Her parents left behind dreams about her as she became a question mark in their poor family.

Her mother watched children of Deepa's age go to school, from their old mined window. She wiped her tears. Her father sobbed within when he attended the marriage functions of girls. Eventhough he is not able to meet both ends of life, his heart longed to see his daughter's marriage. Tears welled in the corner of his eyes when he looked at Deepa.

"She is a nice girl" says Mr.Sudhakaran Nair(name changed),a neighbour of Deepa.She loves her as he loves his daughters.In his opinion Deepa's mother is the reason for her present condition.Only because of the carelessness of her mother,Deepa didn't get the basic treatment and training for mentally challenged people. Now it is too late. He expressed his anxiety about Deepa's life after the death of her parents.Her mother totally ignorent and careless in the case of the girl. She never gave much thought about the future of her daughter,as Sudhakaran Nair did. He thinks that it is better to send Deepa to some orphanage. So that in a way Deepa will get security in her life.

Deepa always wore a long gown which was not apt for her skinny body. But she never gave it a second thought. Most of the day she sits infront the rental house. House? How can you call it as a house? the place where she is living; thatmay be more apt. Because it is a narrow place in between two other rooms of a building. Sitting there Deepa watched her loving bees everyday. But she never noticed busy vehcles and colourfully dressed people who traversed daily through the road infront of her. Everyday her father sit baside her on a blue scratched old chair. He spent hours in the same position.

Most of the time he thinks about deepa. sometimes he finds time to think about her older daughter too. Because he is the only person to think about her. Her husband abandoned both her and her 10 year old child. Her meagre salary from the factory is the only income in that family of five members.

Deepa's father is plagued with diseases. He is unable to go for work. His daughter is not happy in taking care of her mentally challenged sister. You can't blame her. Because she is alone in shouldering the burdens of her family.

Now the blue chair is empty!It was so for
almost two months.Deepa knows that her father is in the hospital.One day he will return.That's why she is waiting.

But her mother and sister are aware that he has left for ever.They saw his body being burried in the public cemetry!

A Dream Come True..........

8:45 in the morning.With barely 30 minutes to go,the seminar hall looks like a disturbed hive.

"Is the tea for our guests ready?"
"Problem.The third mike is not working."
"Should we put the banner up on the right or the left?"
"Who has gone to get the bouquets?"

The air sizzles with excitement,anxiety and tension.

"It's 9:00.a.m. girls ! 10 minutes to go before Sir turns up!",shouts one of my friends as she rushes in with the bouquets.I turn to Greeshma in desperation,"My 'Vote of Thanks', I'm stuck up..........".

"Yikes!Did you hear a horn? Is that him?"

Heartbeats get racing as the clock ticks.

Waiting.

"There they are!!!" A girl dashes to the hall to alert the others as a white Ford Fiesta pulls in.

Mr.Sabin Iqbal,editor,Yentha.com, Miss Cris Seetha, Chief reporter,Yentha.com,and Mr.Shyam Nath, reporter, Yentha.com our special guests for the day pour out from the car along with sir. Their warm smiles scrape away a crumb of the tension in our hearts.

They are escorted to the principal's office and served tea while the last minute touch up is done at the venue.

9:55.a.m. 5 minutes to showtime. Everything is set and everyone is ready. I look around.Excitement and tension jostle for space in each eye.

The programme starts,the guests are welcomed and the presidential address delivered.This is it.What we have all been waiting for.Mr.Sabin Iqbal will now speak to us on the topic, 'Method In Madness-Blending Of Passion And Skill In Writing'.

Our tension broke away in huge chunks when sir started to speak.Extremely free, cheerful and friendly in his approach, we were immediately put at ease.Each word dripped with passion and sincerity as it travelled from his heart to ours digging deeper each time it struck. Every word inspired. The tips and ideas offered were devoured hungrily.

Unfortunately for us, Time was in a hurry.We were forced to wind up the session and break up for tea.

The 15 minutes that followed was filled with the thrilled chatter of a bunch of inspired and overjoyed girls.Excitement ruled every sparkling eye.

Tea done, Cris Seetha, Shyam Nath and Sabin Sir joined us for an interactive session.With the informal seating arrangements and the friendly, cheerful manner of our guests, all of us loosened up and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly.Each of the questions and doubts that popped up from amidst the students were cleared enthusiastically.The session proved to be a learning experience for us.

"Why did we get so tense before they came? They are such friendly people. I thought they'd be scary", said one of our friends as we bade goodbye to our new found aquaintances. For us the programme started with Mr.Sabin Iqbal, Miss Cris Seetha and Mr.Shyam Nath and ended with Sabin Sir, Cris and Shyam.

The main aspect about our guests that shone brightly was the fact that each of their lives is driven by passion.

Be it the passionate writer in Sabin Sir , the socially commited Cris or Shyam with a nose for news, each of them are passionate about what they pursue in life. I guess that's what makes life worth living.

Each of us took home memories of a very enriching, entertaining, informative day.A day that has left indelible impressions on our hearts.

We are grateful to our guests for sparing their time for us.But the Biggest THANK YOU goes to our MANU SIR.

THANK YOU VERY MUCH SIR FOR MAKING IT HAPPEN!

Sunday, February 6, 2011

I hope this fits the bill of your exercise Manu sir........

Johny Walker ,keep walking.It wont hurt to keep walking, will it? Besides that's all you can do.The rules don't permit you to sit where you are or to walk backwards on your path.Forward is the only way before you.En route,you can take diversions or choose a different path but all the same you have to keep walking.Don't get disheartened when you have to walk barefoot over thorns and stones.Bushes, forests and rivers may come in the way of your path as obstacles.But, Johny Walker, keep walking.Don't ever stop walking 'cause that's what life is all about.It's a journey and you have to traverse it.Keep walking Johny Walker, keep walking.


The line in the ad was, 'JOHNY WALKER, KEEP WALKING'

The High Skies

I float above the clouds

I dance with the wind

And play in the rain.

I have beautiful wings,

Which help me to fly

Up and up above the world.


I wake up hearing the

Happy chirpings of the birds

And I also see the little birds

In the nest crying to their mother for food.

I see little children opening their little eyes

And again hiding in their bed sheets.

I see the flowers slowly opening their petals.

I see the beautiful ice-caped mountains

I see the world below me coming to life.


But I’m here, somewhere else

Where only love exists,

Where only kindness exists.

I wander above the clouds,

Playing hide and seek with them.

And I’m going on and on

Deep into the land of love.



Saturday, February 5, 2011

Wars of Nobody


Sleepy town woke up to dusty dawn
To deafening rumble an roar,not a sign of fear
But indeed War had come

Men were paid to pave
Paths to pestilence an' pain
thick with stench of the slain

There lay in ruthless neglect
upon a soaked red earth
the dying limbs of green friends

As they grew black of death
Man's monster machines
played on,their game of destroy

The tree of  thousand years
lay in a mangled heap
no one to mourn or weep

Of love,war and peace it
had had many stories to tell
but for the blade of man
whom it once let breathe

Friday, February 4, 2011

A dozen more metaphors

1) She had fanned each faint spark of disagreement into glowing coals of hostility and distrust that needed only a faint breeze to burst into flames --- Ann Rule

2) The sun...flung wide its cloak and stepped down over the edge of the fields at evening - Willa Carther

3) The sun breaks on the hilltops, spilling it crimson yolk - Julia Alvarez

4) The sun fell in graceful surrender to the night, throwing out its last miracles -- Melanie Summer

5) I'll tell you how the Sun rose
    A ribbon at a time  -- Emily Dickinson

6) At dawn, where the ocean has netted its catch of lights
    The sun plants one lithe foot
    On that spill of mirrors --- Anthony Hecht

7) He feels the warm sun sculpt his cheek -- Richard Wilbur

8) Sunshine...its golden finger-tips pressed her lids open - Edith Wharton

9) Chester's talk sped, the toe of the next sentence stumbling over the heel of the last. - Cynthiya

10) A long single file of minutes went by --Fitzgerrald

11) Manford's lips narrowed in a smile; again she had a confused sense of new deserts widening between     them - Edith Wharton.

12) He is a man who shaves the truth with a meat cleaver

Exercise: Imagine situations in which you can create images like this. Images which tell the matter in a new way.

Writers please....

It is very difficult to maintain a blog like this.

Writers have the most inflated egos in the world. We will go down fighting until our last breath, for a word, phrase or a story we have created. I stopped writing for the Hindu for two long years just because a sub-editor tastelessly changed a word, 'augmented' to 'strengthened'. I still believe it spoiled the atmosphere. But such sensitivity can be good and bad.  The mistakes we make and repeat in our writing remain in the blind-spot of our vision. Only others can see.

That is where this blog becomes useful. Don't post your writings and run away. Read others. They could be waiting for your comment. That is why they posted their pieces in wordsmaid. Help one another and grow. We have school children here. We have experienced writers here. The only thread which runs through us in wordsmaid is our passion for the word and the English language.

Together we grow.

The exercises Sabin and I give are not our creative pieces. They are exercises for you to work on.We see poor response. Sad. Writing needs a bit of discipline. We know certain paths. If you are ready to go with us on this pilgrimage, get out of your home first. You can't stay in one place and travel at the same time.

Hard work is the name of the magic.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Lend Me Your Earrings!

Bringing her lips to a full pout she would carefully dab on her mauve lip gloss.Then she would wipe clean any extra around the corners while examining herself in the mirror.Then she'd put on her kajal or Kohl,whatever that is.Meticulously. Her kurtie is purple today. She rummaged her numerous little boxes for a pair of studs that would go with her top.She is my sister.

I always find it fascinating to watch her fuss over the minute details. She would throw a huge tantrum if she couldn't find her white and gold, enamelled bangle that would go perfectly with her bag or if her wristwatch looked out of place. On those mornings you can find me at the table ,eyebrow raised and sometimes trying hard not to laugh. What is with girls and make-up and jewellery!

Maybe my opinion is in accordance with my poor sense of style. I'm sorry if you think big flat strap-on sandals are unwomanly and a trusty digital watch is an ugly bit of junk to be on a girl's wrist.But that's what I am most days.Comfort comes before cool. Oh I nearly forgot the bunch of greys that stick upright like soldiers on top of my forehead and my mostly unplucked brows.The piercings in my ears are like some kind of historical reminders, "Here is where they stashed the Gold back in 1994!". I've no time to look after looks. Plainly said, LAZY.

Once the old woman at a roadside coffee shop nearly cried her heart out on seeing "such a young girl with greys". I listened to the Baba Yaga's advice,greysfully. I had to slick my hair everyday with gooseberry oil.Sure, when I'm your age! On a funnier day when I was waiting at bus stop I met the lady at the photocopy shop. I had seen her for the first time in my life only the previous day. We got talking and before long she asked me which division I was. I didn't  quite get what she meant. "Aren't you Pentecost?".Now I did. I waved and laughed, though my earring-less ears burned. (Why in the world does she care?!). Last year, when I got my hair cropped below the ears I had to endure months of lamenting over the gone hair.

This year on the top of my imaginary resolution list I crossed "focus" to put "remember to wear the little tacks  on your ears just so they all keep shut!" on top. But I must admit, first impressions do count.


PS. I will never get rid of my huge black sandals!



Who Are You?

Though I don't know who you are,
You are still in my heart.
With the light of blazing sun,
With the shine of precious gems.

Though I don't know who you are,
You are still in my heart.
With body of a cute rabbit,
With sharp eyes that of a beautiful deer.

Though I don't know who you are,
You are still in my heart.
With gorgeous wings like that of angels,
With a magic wand in your hand.

Though I don't know who you are,
You are still in my heart.
Tell me! Tell me! Who you are!
Let me know who you are!

Though I don't know who you are,
You are still in my heart.
With lots of blessings, with lots of magic,
Tell me who you are!

Though I don't know who you are,
You are still in my heart.
I tie you tightly to my heart,
So that I don't lose you!

Lovable But Mysterious

Love! Love! Love!

We are all familiar with this word.We yearn for love.We surrender ourselves before these four letters.How magical these letters are?Mystery wraps each letter.

Gireesh is the only son of his mother.His father bid farewell to them and went to Heaven.Gireesh and his mother challenged destiny.Slowly,bad times crept out from their life.But it was only the lull before the storm.

Gireesh was a precocious child in their village.He was hardworking and studied well.He conducted tuitions for children upto the 8th standard when he was studying in 10th.He passed his tenth standard exams with highmarks.Yet the prospects for his studies were in crisis.He toiled in the night for fulfilling his dreams.He went to Panthalam polytechnique.He studied with a resolute mind.Destiny came as a villan to his life.He became a different person after two years.He visited his house rarely and that too only for demanding money.His mother pawned everything for her son.

Time passed,Gireesh became more indifferent.

After attending his final year exams,his mother begged him to comeback.He heartlessly rejected the request.But....that midnight,he cameback home pale and trumbling.He didn't answer anyone,didn't talk to anyone.His sweet smile faded from his face.The blossomed flower lost its fragrance.

What happened to him?who is responsible?No answer,only silence pervades everywhere.

Colleagues and teachers gave explanation.He was madly in love with a girl.But she wasn't.

Only four letters,love can make or break a man

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

The Crow

O! You little crow

Perching on the wall facing my window,

How beautiful you are!

As the wind blows through your body,

It makes beautiful waves.

Your neck sparkles when the sunlight falls on it

And your shiny black body makes you handsome

And your feathers and wings like a gown

Make you look like a king.

With your head moving recklessly

Your sparkling eyes hunting for the morsels I throw out.

O! Don’t go away, let me show the world

That you have a beauty of your own,

And now you are standing, alone

Staring at me.

Let me introduce myself. I’m Gouri Ramesh, a Ninth standard student of Sree Narayana Public School, Kollam.

Myself

To say about oneself is very difficult. We have to look deep inside us to know who we really are. I am really cheerful all the time and energetic. I like having and making new friends. I have friends all over the world. I’ve friends from China, Australia, Spain etc. I learn good things from others. As I don’t have a TV at home, I spend my time over the computer. Most of the time I listen to music and modify the system than play games. My favorite singers are Miley Cyrus, Selena Gomez, Jonas Brothers, Demi Lovato and so on. I like watching movies such as The Chronicles of Narnia series, Pans Labyrinth, The Confessions of a Shopaholic, Legally Blonde, Alvin and the Chipmunks etc. When my cousins come to my house, they prefer to play cricket. I’m not interested. But I’m good at bowling. My favorite sports are Badminton and Table Tennis. I like reading magic-realism and comic books. My favorite book is The Chronicles of Narnia series by C.S.Lewis. But I think I have to work harder to reach my goal. I’m polite to others especially elders, except my sister who always nag at me. Other wise I’m polite to her also. Mother always says that I’m very helpful. But at times I’m very irritating to her since I cannot keep my mouth shut when I come back from school! I like helping others and I wish my positive characteristics would stay with me forever.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Mom........It's not fair!!!

Does your mother switch sides when she meets your teachers? Mine does.

I discovered this side to my mom when she turned up for an Open House back in school.

She was summoned by my class teacher because, unlike the other students who had boring, drab report cards, mine was well decorated with red lines.

We reached school.I escorted mom to my class with all the confidence of a girl who believes, "mere paas maa hai".

I knew what was coming from my teachers.They would list out all the subjects I flunked in, all the zeroes I got for my class tests and the number of times I had been kicked out from class.

After they were done with the list of complaints, my mom would assure them that I'll work hard with my studies.She will tell them how she will make sure that I don't perform so pathetically again and that in the next exam I will make up for my poor performance.

Atleast that's what I thought.

"WHAT THE.....!!!!!"I was flabbergasted when I heard what my mom had to say!

"She is such a lazy girl.She pays absolutely no attention to her studies!All she does is EAT,SLEEP and PLAY all day.Miss,I give you the permission to beat her if she doesn't do her homework again.It's because you are lenient with her that she is not studying.Be strict with her.Punish her.Kick her out of the class if need be.Be as stern with her as you can,and.............. .........................................................................!!!!!!!!!!"

Whew! I stood dumbstruck as I listened to my miss and my mom enthusiastically discuss how lazy I am.Hello............mom, you are supposed to be on my side.

With the blink of an eye I had lost my only ally.Now both mom and miss were on one side while I was left to fend for myself.

My dear mom had only my well being in mind but ever since that day, the very mention of an Open-House puts me on my guard.