Weekends are just empty if I don't update my blog. It doesn't matter whether I posted something yesterday or the day before, but a weekend update has become mandatory. Just doesn't feel good, so here goes. But before I get started, let me fill you in with the latest news.
First of all I express my deep disappointment caused by the highly reckless and inappropriate behaviour of the wild bug, who promised to make it to my place but has failed to do so. Secondly I would like to give a thunderous applause to, The Critic, my most amazing genius of a friend, who promised to review this blog 3 months back and has done an utterly despicable job in "finishing her work in time". Bravo! Next up, my Best Friend celebrated his 20th birthday this week and I feel so proud that I did my bit in making the day memorable. Bought him his favourite Pizza. Hope you had a Big Bang Birthday Bash Blast! And by the way, I also wanted to apologize to my dearest Lollipop Chechi for the repercussions of my previous post. Sorry Chechi! And to all my well wishers, today I cooked. Paneer Butter Masala. Pray for my soul, just in case!
Well there's your starter. Hope you enjoyed. Now feast on the main course:
The story happened a pretty long time back, but it is still stings my heart. Her face still makes me cry. It all started, well, this is the thing with real life stories; they don't have a proper beginning. Neither do they have an end. These stories are like line segments, a small part of an infinite line which you cut out using two points. You don't know where it started. It never even started. An eternal flow. Well, for our convenience let us start the story from the beginning of 7th standard. And the star of the story, let us call her Baby. I have my reasons.
Baby was smart, but not very often did that reflect in her results. Her results were, not bad, but not good either. It kept swinging, 50-50, khabhi khatta tho khabhi meetha! And that never bothered her. But there was this burning ambition within her, just like it is there in every student, not to get great marks, but to impress your parents. Make them proud, and I swear, to do that a child does not have limits. No boundaries, no ordeals will stop a child from making its parents proud. A mother's smile is an award that knows no value. And for that priceless reward Baby decided to give it her best shot. 7th standard final exams. Maths was her villain and if she could conquer that, victory would be hers.
And hence the epic war began, Exam vs Baby. She won all the battles in her way, procrastination was killed, television shows received a blind eye, video games were ignored and discipline was brutally enforced - some achievement for a 12 year old. A feat to be honest.
And then the day of her Maths exam arrived. You know how you feel, walking into the exam hall with your stationery, finding your place and getting ready for the paper, taking deep breaths as the bell rings and the invigilator begins to distribute the question paper, the thin sheet of paper falls on your table and you grab it in a flash.
Baby was stunned - to find the easiest questions of all stacked over there. Her face was glowing as she read her once dreaded enemy, question by question, taking no time to answer them all. Her pen raced through the answer sheet and with two hours remaining, the answer paper had been handed over to the invigilator! "Take that Mathematics!"
Baby rushed to her home to announce victory. "Amma the paper was so, so, so simple! I wrote it with my eyes closed. Finished it within an hour Amma! Hundred out of Hundred CONFIRMED!!!" And she did get her reward. Amma beamed at her.
"Here, see!" Baby pulled the question paper out of her bag and showed it to her Mother, the flipside of the paper facing herself. And as if with the push of a button, the radiant face dropped dead. Tears started to rush out of her eyes, Baby started to weep. "What happened?" Amma asked.
"Amma..." Baby struggled with her tears, "I didn't... I forgot... I didn't notice the questions on this side of the sheet!" Three questions carrying 6 marks each.
Her face, it still makes me cry.
BURP! For a blog, I guess that was a satisfying Main Course. You don't thing so. You are right, a meal is never satisfying unless you end it with a dessert. Enjoy:
This story is set in... Yesterday. Yeah, happened yesterday or the day before I guess. The star of the story is a 6 year old Macho Man! You know what, little children are perfectionists. You tell them something and that will be done 100%, right down to the tiniest detail. Every fragment of your instruction will be followed accurately, and the younger the child, the greater the accuracy. And among the lot, this child is a perfectionist. And he is going for his first ever Fancy Dress Competition, dressed up as the Father of the Nation, Mahatma Gandhi. He is a skinny kid and bald caps are easy to arrange, so victory assured.
Here are the rules, you are to dress up as a Freedom fighter, go to stage and speak about your character for 3 minutes, piece of cake!
Day of the competition, the costume is ready, the stage is set and the speech is good to go! And this little 6 year old is on fire. He may be just 6, but the stage is his friend and the mike does not scare him. How to speak in public has grown into his genes. You always start with a Good Morning and greet the audience, "Honourable Judges, respected teachers and my dear Friends. A very Good Morning to you all". Then you introduce yourself and tell the audience about what you are going to say. For a fancy dress competition you just introduce yourself, "My name is Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi and I am known as the Father of the Nation. Most people call me Bapu. I was born on October 2nd, 1869 in Porbandar Gujarat. I studied to become a lawyer and went to South Africa to practice as an Attorney. Over there I fought for the rights of the racially discriminated natives and against the British colonial rule. Later I came to India and fought for the freedom and unity of my country. I preached non-violence and advocated harmony among people of all religions. My greatest dream was to see India as an Independent Nation where all the citizens live in brotherhood." And you end your speech with a Thank you and bow for a Namaste! "Thank you!", he said and walked out of the stage. Oops, forgot to say Namaste!
For little kids, little things matter. After the competition, he had lunch from a restaurant and went home by noon for his nap. And in his sleep, he kept muttering, "Namaste! Namaste! Namaste!" One word! Who would have noticed. Would it ruin his brilliant speech? Doesn't matter. He didn't say it. He is just that far from perfection. And it disturbed his sleep. Don't know for how many nights. But he didn't get it right. You think that's no reason to cry? Think again.
And I thought I had issues. Well, I have served you a pleasant meal I believe. And now it is time for mine. So till next time...
Thank you
Namaste!
Love
First of all I express my deep disappointment caused by the highly reckless and inappropriate behaviour of the wild bug, who promised to make it to my place but has failed to do so. Secondly I would like to give a thunderous applause to, The Critic, my most amazing genius of a friend, who promised to review this blog 3 months back and has done an utterly despicable job in "finishing her work in time". Bravo! Next up, my Best Friend celebrated his 20th birthday this week and I feel so proud that I did my bit in making the day memorable. Bought him his favourite Pizza. Hope you had a Big Bang Birthday Bash Blast! And by the way, I also wanted to apologize to my dearest Lollipop Chechi for the repercussions of my previous post. Sorry Chechi! And to all my well wishers, today I cooked. Paneer Butter Masala. Pray for my soul, just in case!
Well there's your starter. Hope you enjoyed. Now feast on the main course:
The story happened a pretty long time back, but it is still stings my heart. Her face still makes me cry. It all started, well, this is the thing with real life stories; they don't have a proper beginning. Neither do they have an end. These stories are like line segments, a small part of an infinite line which you cut out using two points. You don't know where it started. It never even started. An eternal flow. Well, for our convenience let us start the story from the beginning of 7th standard. And the star of the story, let us call her Baby. I have my reasons.
Baby was smart, but not very often did that reflect in her results. Her results were, not bad, but not good either. It kept swinging, 50-50, khabhi khatta tho khabhi meetha! And that never bothered her. But there was this burning ambition within her, just like it is there in every student, not to get great marks, but to impress your parents. Make them proud, and I swear, to do that a child does not have limits. No boundaries, no ordeals will stop a child from making its parents proud. A mother's smile is an award that knows no value. And for that priceless reward Baby decided to give it her best shot. 7th standard final exams. Maths was her villain and if she could conquer that, victory would be hers.
And hence the epic war began, Exam vs Baby. She won all the battles in her way, procrastination was killed, television shows received a blind eye, video games were ignored and discipline was brutally enforced - some achievement for a 12 year old. A feat to be honest.
And then the day of her Maths exam arrived. You know how you feel, walking into the exam hall with your stationery, finding your place and getting ready for the paper, taking deep breaths as the bell rings and the invigilator begins to distribute the question paper, the thin sheet of paper falls on your table and you grab it in a flash.
Baby was stunned - to find the easiest questions of all stacked over there. Her face was glowing as she read her once dreaded enemy, question by question, taking no time to answer them all. Her pen raced through the answer sheet and with two hours remaining, the answer paper had been handed over to the invigilator! "Take that Mathematics!"
Baby rushed to her home to announce victory. "Amma the paper was so, so, so simple! I wrote it with my eyes closed. Finished it within an hour Amma! Hundred out of Hundred CONFIRMED!!!" And she did get her reward. Amma beamed at her.
"Here, see!" Baby pulled the question paper out of her bag and showed it to her Mother, the flipside of the paper facing herself. And as if with the push of a button, the radiant face dropped dead. Tears started to rush out of her eyes, Baby started to weep. "What happened?" Amma asked.
"Amma..." Baby struggled with her tears, "I didn't... I forgot... I didn't notice the questions on this side of the sheet!" Three questions carrying 6 marks each.
Her face, it still makes me cry.
BURP! For a blog, I guess that was a satisfying Main Course. You don't thing so. You are right, a meal is never satisfying unless you end it with a dessert. Enjoy:
This story is set in... Yesterday. Yeah, happened yesterday or the day before I guess. The star of the story is a 6 year old Macho Man! You know what, little children are perfectionists. You tell them something and that will be done 100%, right down to the tiniest detail. Every fragment of your instruction will be followed accurately, and the younger the child, the greater the accuracy. And among the lot, this child is a perfectionist. And he is going for his first ever Fancy Dress Competition, dressed up as the Father of the Nation, Mahatma Gandhi. He is a skinny kid and bald caps are easy to arrange, so victory assured.
Here are the rules, you are to dress up as a Freedom fighter, go to stage and speak about your character for 3 minutes, piece of cake!
Day of the competition, the costume is ready, the stage is set and the speech is good to go! And this little 6 year old is on fire. He may be just 6, but the stage is his friend and the mike does not scare him. How to speak in public has grown into his genes. You always start with a Good Morning and greet the audience, "Honourable Judges, respected teachers and my dear Friends. A very Good Morning to you all". Then you introduce yourself and tell the audience about what you are going to say. For a fancy dress competition you just introduce yourself, "My name is Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi and I am known as the Father of the Nation. Most people call me Bapu. I was born on October 2nd, 1869 in Porbandar Gujarat. I studied to become a lawyer and went to South Africa to practice as an Attorney. Over there I fought for the rights of the racially discriminated natives and against the British colonial rule. Later I came to India and fought for the freedom and unity of my country. I preached non-violence and advocated harmony among people of all religions. My greatest dream was to see India as an Independent Nation where all the citizens live in brotherhood." And you end your speech with a Thank you and bow for a Namaste! "Thank you!", he said and walked out of the stage. Oops, forgot to say Namaste!
For little kids, little things matter. After the competition, he had lunch from a restaurant and went home by noon for his nap. And in his sleep, he kept muttering, "Namaste! Namaste! Namaste!" One word! Who would have noticed. Would it ruin his brilliant speech? Doesn't matter. He didn't say it. He is just that far from perfection. And it disturbed his sleep. Don't know for how many nights. But he didn't get it right. You think that's no reason to cry? Think again.
And I thought I had issues. Well, I have served you a pleasant meal I believe. And now it is time for mine. So till next time...
Thank you
Namaste!
Love
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