Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
Last Day at School
Little Karthik was a big man now. It was his last day before the summer holidays. And it was raining cats and dogs! After the last class, his Miss gave them all a little chit that proclaimed the commencement of the much awaited holidays. He could not believe it was 8 months since he had started going to school. Well, not exactly. It was actually a nursery meant for pre-schoolers. As he waited under the sun-shade near the gates for his mother to come and pick him up, he was lost in reminiscence, looking at the fierce droplets of water falling from the sky above.
It had rained similarly on his first day as well. Oh, it seemed like yesterday - his first day of school. He was made to brush his teeth and was dressed in crisp, new shirt by his mother. There it was! A pair of shining new shoes. He felt great in his new dress. He was sure school was going to be a great place to be. He felt big to be carrying a bag, his first true possession,which, he assumed was equivalent to his father's briefcase that he wasn't allowed to fiddle with. He also had a water bottle - cum - tiffin box and a napkin pinned to his pocket. His mother had taken him to the class. The sight of that many children scared him a bit. The fact that they were all crying did not make matters any better. Tears welled up in his eyes and started dropping down his chubby cheeks. His mother was startled. He was asked what was wrong. The question seemed absurd to him. He just replied that he was crying becauses others were doing so, and if all others were crying, something ought to be wrong. That was 8 months ago. That memory brought a smile to his face today. He wondered how immature and childish he was! In any case, he decided that past was past.
He must now think about the future. His father had told that he had to go to school first, then college and then if he studied well, he would get a job. He had gone to school. One task done.!!He resolved that he should do better at college the next year and get a good job the year after next. Then, he too would be old enough to ride a real motorbike.
His mother had not come yet. He did not know how to read a clock yet - he could not tell how much time had passed since his teacher left him. He assumed that the rain was delaying his mother. He noticed that the piece of paper in his hand was getting a bit wet from the drops dripping from the edge of the sunshade above. He took great pains to analyze and place his hands in such a way so as to protect that from getting wet.
He had lost track of his thoughts. Where was he? Yes! a Motorbike. A REAL one. The very thought excited him. He planned that he would ride from Madras to Bombay. A little voice in his head reminded him that he still did not know to ride it. He dismissed it outright, but at the same time made up his mind to practice more on his tri-wheeler, since he assumed that it would suffice. He felt really light now. He reasoned that it was probably because of the 2 months of holidays that lay ahead.
"Karthik.. Karthik"... He heard and was snapped out of his reverie. There stood his mother knee deep in water, holding an umbrella, calling out his name. His school was already locked for the summer, so she seemed visibly worried. He ran towards her, but the water came upto his chest. He displayed his chivalry by keeping out the chit way above his head and certainly out of water. It was 10 seconds before his mother picked him up in her arms.
Proudly he presented the chit to his mother. He had kept it out of water even in the fiercest of rains, thereby fulfilling his word to his Miss. His face was gleaming with a sense of accomplishment. However, his mother still seemed worried about something. He wondered what the matter was. Then she asked him where his bag was ?
Bag!! He saw that it was no longer strapped onto his shoulders. No wonder he felt so light. The school was already closed and there was no one who could be asked. His mother tried to trace it in the school but to no avail. He came back, with the chit still clinging to his hand. He felt really guilty. He had been so careless, so irresponsible. As it turned out his father was transferred during that very summer and he had to change school, without his bag. He then resolved, that from then on, whatever happened , he would always keep his bag carefully, by his side.
Epilogue: Fortunately, he got his bag after summer - in a remarkable turn of events where it passed through many people and finally found him.
Note : This is a true story. All incidents are real.Names are unchanged though, for anonymity. :)
It had rained similarly on his first day as well. Oh, it seemed like yesterday - his first day of school. He was made to brush his teeth and was dressed in crisp, new shirt by his mother. There it was! A pair of shining new shoes. He felt great in his new dress. He was sure school was going to be a great place to be. He felt big to be carrying a bag, his first true possession,which, he assumed was equivalent to his father's briefcase that he wasn't allowed to fiddle with. He also had a water bottle - cum - tiffin box and a napkin pinned to his pocket. His mother had taken him to the class. The sight of that many children scared him a bit. The fact that they were all crying did not make matters any better. Tears welled up in his eyes and started dropping down his chubby cheeks. His mother was startled. He was asked what was wrong. The question seemed absurd to him. He just replied that he was crying becauses others were doing so, and if all others were crying, something ought to be wrong. That was 8 months ago. That memory brought a smile to his face today. He wondered how immature and childish he was! In any case, he decided that past was past.
He must now think about the future. His father had told that he had to go to school first, then college and then if he studied well, he would get a job. He had gone to school. One task done.!!He resolved that he should do better at college the next year and get a good job the year after next. Then, he too would be old enough to ride a real motorbike.
His mother had not come yet. He did not know how to read a clock yet - he could not tell how much time had passed since his teacher left him. He assumed that the rain was delaying his mother. He noticed that the piece of paper in his hand was getting a bit wet from the drops dripping from the edge of the sunshade above. He took great pains to analyze and place his hands in such a way so as to protect that from getting wet.
He had lost track of his thoughts. Where was he? Yes! a Motorbike. A REAL one. The very thought excited him. He planned that he would ride from Madras to Bombay. A little voice in his head reminded him that he still did not know to ride it. He dismissed it outright, but at the same time made up his mind to practice more on his tri-wheeler, since he assumed that it would suffice. He felt really light now. He reasoned that it was probably because of the 2 months of holidays that lay ahead.
"Karthik.. Karthik"... He heard and was snapped out of his reverie. There stood his mother knee deep in water, holding an umbrella, calling out his name. His school was already locked for the summer, so she seemed visibly worried. He ran towards her, but the water came upto his chest. He displayed his chivalry by keeping out the chit way above his head and certainly out of water. It was 10 seconds before his mother picked him up in her arms.
Proudly he presented the chit to his mother. He had kept it out of water even in the fiercest of rains, thereby fulfilling his word to his Miss. His face was gleaming with a sense of accomplishment. However, his mother still seemed worried about something. He wondered what the matter was. Then she asked him where his bag was ?
Bag!! He saw that it was no longer strapped onto his shoulders. No wonder he felt so light. The school was already closed and there was no one who could be asked. His mother tried to trace it in the school but to no avail. He came back, with the chit still clinging to his hand. He felt really guilty. He had been so careless, so irresponsible. As it turned out his father was transferred during that very summer and he had to change school, without his bag. He then resolved, that from then on, whatever happened , he would always keep his bag carefully, by his side.
Epilogue: Fortunately, he got his bag after summer - in a remarkable turn of events where it passed through many people and finally found him.
Note : This is a true story. All incidents are real.Names are unchanged though, for anonymity. :)
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Prodigies.
Any words that I write here will only distract you from the more important stuff that follows. :) Enjoy!
Connie Talbot, Age : 6, Singer
Shakira, Kinder Garden Student, Age : 4 Salsa Dancer
Kaitlyn Maher , Kinder Garden Student, Age : 4 Singer
Connie Talbot, Age : 6, Singer
Shakira, Kinder Garden Student, Age : 4 Salsa Dancer
Kaitlyn Maher , Kinder Garden Student, Age : 4 Singer
Saturday, April 25, 2009
The Pursuit(?) of Happiness
One day the teacher asked her 6 year old student what he wanted to be when he grew up. He said, " Happy". The teacher then told him that he had gotten the question wrong. What an irony!
Happiness is a state to be in, not a goal to achieve. It is the default state of a human being. No man can live in his past or his future, yet we keep worrying, unmindful of the joys that they are surrounded by. Discover the happiness you already have. Have a happy day! :-)
Happiness is a state to be in, not a goal to achieve. It is the default state of a human being. No man can live in his past or his future, yet we keep worrying, unmindful of the joys that they are surrounded by. Discover the happiness you already have. Have a happy day! :-)
Friday, April 24, 2009
Musical Prodigies
They are Naturals. No elaboration needed. Seldom do we see sights where the song rendered impromptu on stage by 14 year olds seems better than the original. And more so when the people who originally sang those songs are musical prodigies themselves. :-)
Do see the kind of variations they can bring about- from Rustic, to classic to western and Arabic. Stunning!
I only wish that she compete once with Krishnamoorthy. Ah, Music is divine. May god bless them.
To get a flavor of their standards, please watch these videos.
Do see the kind of variations they can bring about- from Rustic, to classic to western and Arabic. Stunning!
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
She
He was the man she loved most. He would do anything for her. Their love transcended all physical, mental and emotional barriers and was so pure and selfless that people were jealous when they walked together. They were each other's best friend, in the truest sense. She confided everything to him, all her secrets, wishes and desires. He simply loved everything about her, and when he was with her, he seemed to forget all his worries. She was his world.
Finally, on one day, he was born. The world rejoiced at the new arrival. She had endured pain, was barely conscious, yet when she saw him, all her pain vanished into nothingness. The noise was blurred. He was a part of her. Knowingly she smiled, as she slipped into the bliss of oblivion.
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