To Her.....

Each new day introduces us to new people- people who might have an impact in our lives, who might give us endearing company, who might seed a fierce dislike or who might just go up in air, without leaving even a whiff of their presence. But very few people make us want to change it, make us want to emulate them.

I usually do not heed to the 'well-meaning-advice' that invariably and most of the time, unwantedly, get dropped on our laps. It is with a certain mild sneer that I listen to them. I developed the habit of reading at a very young age- and indeed, I must admit that it limited me. For certain periods of my life, relations, bonds and feelings held no importance, were given no stand. My friends were alienated because of this habit, and I was left stranded and didn't give a damn.

Holidays came. I was visiting my brother and Chance introduced me to The girl who would become one of my most closest of all friends. She was- is- 3 years older than me, and moreover a bookworm. I can still remember how me met. She was a misfit too, awkward with emotions, not exactly outward. But a someone with whom I could connect . A relationship which was initially nurtured only by conversations about books soon spread its roots in my life.

We talked and talked freely. Time made us grow fonder of each other. Hers is the only life I would want to exchange with my own. For my unguided self, she became the source of inspiration- inspiring me to write and channel my emotions through words as their vocal expression was, and still is, difficult for me. As we both grew, it was she who breathed away my fears with her calm and well meaning words. She made me be who I am and be it without fear or compromise.

She turns 20 in a few days. I have never met a more grounded teenager. We no longer stay in the same country, nor are able to converse with the same amount of frequency. But when we met, the miles and time passed were of no importance. Our bond was there- safe, firm, strong.

I have already dedicated a post to her in this blog and thought that it was only fit to dedicate another to that extraordinary person who sat beside me and opened my first e-mail account and this blog.

Here's to you Lux, you rock!

IT'S NEW, IT'S DIFFERENT......

I need not get up so early anymore. I need not iron any uniform nor curse the necessity of pulling my hair back in two plaits and a ribbon. the full hour school days are gone. time is more free, more spacious and . its bitter-sweet.

it is totally weird, totally unusual to have the liberty to wear bright, colourful clothes to an educational institution . though i love to experiment with make-up paint more than once, its unnerving to go to a place where it is considered in vogue and a book is 'nerdy'. though more than three full months have passed since i became a college-goer, the experience is totally unrealistic. for one , there is that feeling of wonder, of astonishment and surprise of growing up so fast that i can look out during our class window without being questioned ( ya, during class hours, when our lecturer drones on and on).

i barely know the girl who sits beside me, yet i am fond of her. i have ventured out with a few of them, yet call them as friends. each day, the seedling of new

relationships, new bonds grow more stronger and familiar. i have begun to recognize the names and faces of my classmates, begun to tease our lecturers for their strange accents and lisps.

this is our college, a structure of stone and age. it has weathered with time and rains, the windows are rickety and are never do the job they are meant for. many have commented that it effectively looks like a monument but i have come to like it. the surrounding green and breezy, the air clean and always fresh, the roads so free of vehicles and noise. if the classroom reeks of boredom, i can look out of the windows and blissfully witness a tranquil landscape of cute houses and trees. its amazing- the environment is so clean and dirt-free.

there are a lot of eateries around- so much so that even i was stunned that i could go anywhere around during our lunch. this (and the lunch box that mom prepares) effectively puts me in a perpetual, pleasant, sleep like stupor. there are a lot of 'healthy' people in our college, so i do not exactly feel guilty of eating- no, gorging.

our college has a firm ethical and a moral base- which means that it is more strict than others. but as my happiness depends more on a book than on counting how many classes i bunked, i am relatively satisfied.

right now, i am just getting used to this transition from discipline to freedom. it is new. its is unexperienced.

The Final Adieu

It’s been two years. Two years since we started preparing, and preparing hard for our tenth board exams. Two years since we truly started resenting the perpetual stream of projects, homeworks, revision and those long hours spent scooped up in our rooms with nothing but textbooks for company. So, it’s a bit unnerving to face the fact that it is all finally over- our tenth exams have ended.

We were all happily awaiting the day that would mark the end of a two year battle with pressure, parents and teachers. And also, though we had not realized it then, a day that would end constant contact between friends, a day that would put an end to all that safe comfort we were accustomed to in our second home.

We were busy. Too busy to realize that our tenure as school going students would end. Where was the time? There were deadlines to meet, homework to complete, exams to prepare. Sure, we knew that we would leave school, would enter college in mere months. But who cared? College meant freedom, freedom meant extended limits, and extended limits meant experiments, experiments adventure.

That was how we thought.

It was only when we sat writing our last exam did we realize that there was no exam the next day. That there no need for revision upon going home. That we were not the ones who would be coming back once the school reopened. That though the gateways of college was now open, the school doors would be shut.

Of course, we might promise to come back and indeed keep it. But, will it be the same? We cannot pull pranks on teachers. They in turn cannot scold us. An unknown, unwanted formality would creep in. We will not be able to relive those school days- they are just memories of time past, of days well spent.

The former feelings of resentment, bitterness- they were just that - former. It was nothing when compared to the grief and fierce nostalgia we experienced on the last day. Though no tears were shed, the gloom was extremely prominent and emphatic.

I was 13 when I started this blog. Now, I am 16. Time has passed. Though in character I remain pretty much the same, these past few months have added a subtle maturity, the knowledge that I should appreciate what I am living through or else I might not get it back again.

They say that no good things last forever. That its true value can be fully realized when it’s no more there. Alas! How true......

jugalbandi in morning...........

our school is pretty nice. i don't really understand why, but the authorities are determined to make us appreciate classical arts. appreciation of lectures. appreciation of poetry. and to my undying misery, appreciation of music.

so it dint come as a total surprise when we were asked to report to school at 8 a.m on a certain Saturday for an hour long session of jugalbandi music. we were just informed that it was an instrumental version of two forms of Indian music. trusting my school princy and going by the name , i was expecting something fast paced or something spirited.

i was in for a rude shock.

the jugalbandi turned out to be a slow fusion of harmonium, sarong and a snail paced tabla. i suppose it must have been pleasant in its own way.........but i honestly could not hear the thins in that perspective. i mean, when u have woken up at 5:45 in the morning , and make your way wearily to the school just because they told you to and they give back the courtesy in the form of a lullaby, you certainly wont appreciate jugalbandi , will you?

it was surprising that many of my friends liked it . one even considered that if anyone dint like it, they were certainly abnormal. i remained silent , mournfully accepting my fate and abnormality .

but please , don't form impressions about jugalbandi based on my post. many people did like it ( though i don't understand how ) .

beauty everywere

the wind whipped and tickled my face,
summer leaves fell from trees with a gentle grace,
and wistful thought ran in my head as in a race:

" a longing desire to belong to the beauty around me,
of towering mountains and roaring seas,
bitter hate for being a human escaped unstopped and free,
for there was little time but much to see......"

with pulling memories, i went back to my life,
full of city lights and lowly strife,
and painful words as sharp as a knife..

as time flew by, there came a day,
when all hard work went away,
i sat looking at my paper, not seeing a single ray,
trying to decide where i had wronged on the way...............

through the mists of misery, a loving mother came,
and as strong support, a man with 'father' as his name,
to gamely raise my spirits, friends offered me a game,
even as i accepted, i knew i would never feel the same....

for i had just recognized the beauty of life and family,
now knew that nature was not ugly nor mankind lowly,
" i am me .. ", i thought happily...............

mutinous ramblings

i may now rest in momentary peace. the accursed exams has met its end and i am now realizing the true meaning & and feeling of bliss. my endocrine glands ( striving to prove that its no less a teenager than me ) are working full time and releasing extra hormones to make me more rebellious. come on - after slaving with text books for over month & spending 2 hours each day for 2 weeks in stuffed, over stern classrooms - who can blame me???
as i am regally pissed and royally frustrated, i am going to over indulge myself and curse everything around me to hell.
so if you don't want to spend your next few minutes reading the ramblings of a self sympathising teenager, please find something else......

please don't be offended, but if by any chance you are an adult, answer this question for me :
how come how-have-you-done-your-exams-beta become the standard question come march??? do all the adults expect us to point blankly lie with a hypocritical smile and tell very-well-thank-you-auntie ???
duh!
exam papers are of course more horrible. whats the true meaningful purpose of asking questions like "define frontal and cyclonic rainfall " ? ugh!
who gives a damn about the types or features of rainfall???
and to make matters more worse ( is that is possible ) , they give out results ( I'm not exactly sure weather to use duh! or ugh!! here )..
its the most horrible things. that's not only because i have never come in the Top Five but because whats-your-percentage-beta becomes another standard question.
right now i cant find the dominant emotion in my house : my contended, lazy happiness or my parents increasing bouts of anxiety at my results.........

ooph! i feel loads better now that i have gotten that out.
now, now, ( if you are still reading ), please don't ask me what my percentage is! :)

to a slain friend...

the leaves were still not in full bloom. the frozen bark was yet to recover from the chill winter. spring flowers had not yet been born. the green was still mild, pleasant and gentle. but all hopes of witnessing the former grandeur is lost.
dear people, i lost one of my most trusted mute friends today. the standing , intimidating giant, lay pitifully on the ground, with no mourners to honour it.my tears went unnoticed in the surroundimg joy of work accomplished.

very few people regard nature as their friend. though not able to speak, the quiet companionship, patience and support it offers is irreplaceable. it is the only life form on earth which can communicate the honest message of "" i am forever there for you "" without uttering them.
the tree was there from the time of my birth. one of our most favourite haunts, it was the residence of out notorious childhood games. a it was a friend which offered its leaves for us to play with, let us to lean by its bark and relax, and gave us a wild wonder and exceptional excitement when it first sprouted tufts of cotton( it was a cotton tree ). those are just memories now. the assurance that those childhood joys really existed is lost. the gentle filtered sunlight has now become unbearably harsh as there is no one to intercept it. the cooled atmosphere offered by my friend has now become bone dry. they just did not kill the tree, but the life around it and the life it offered.

i stood watching. it took a combined effort of 6 men, 2 ropes and gigantic axes to cut the life out of it. it fell and the thunderous voice reverberated. the dog which used to sleep in its shade and had made it its bed howled a grief stricken lament for the home lost. then there was silence....
just a moment of silence...
cries of joy. cheers and satisfaction filled the air. many clapped in ignorance of the life lost. not one thought of the tree that had provided a lush landscape to the dull area.
why?? why such indignity, i could not comprehend.......
my friend lay on the hardened ground ( a place from which it had blossomed with life ) before it was disposed. people came to pluck out its lifeless leaves to glee at the dead parts. the sap which once gave life to my friend flowed out as effortlessly as my tears.
some people might call my mourning stupid.but i don't care. my friend has just been slain and has become a memory.......................