The kiosk was abuzz with loud giggles and chattering voices. Snatches of college gossip flew past my ears but I was determined to concentrate on my cold coffee and drink it slowly. You see, I like brain freezes and it has become a habit now. I have, therefore, been given an ultimatum - drink slowly or don't drink at all.
As I sipped at my drink, I noticed Kalyani and Aditi walk towards me. "Hello!" said Kalyani in her signature tone. I nodded in reply. Aditi sat next to me and said, "So how was Hindi?" I sighed and replied, "I miss the old one..."
- "A-ha! I knew this would happen!"
- "Yeah right!"
- "I'm serious!!"
I glared at Aditi and she grinned back broadly, before starting off again. "Guess what, man? We didn't want to sit through class and so, we asked our French teacher to teach us a song. And she told us to check out Pour un flirt!!"
- "Seriously?"
-"Oui!"
"Poor thing, guys..." said Kalyani, as she dug into her bag, "she probably thought she was being ultra-cool with our generation by teaching us such songs!" She triumphantly pulled out her pink and black wallet and turned towards the kiosk lady.
Aditi and I were discussing the intricacies of the French song when we heard footsteps storming up next to us. We looked up to see an indignant Sanjana standing next to us. "You wouldn't believe what happened at the bank today!" "What?" asked Aditi. Sanjana continued, "The guy at the bank yelled at me! He said I was taking up too much space!"
We stared, speechless for a few moments, at the slim girl standing in front of us. "Me!" she said, gesticulating wildly, "Taking up too much space! The nerve, I tell you!" A few more moments of silence followed. Something like the lull before the storm because right after that, we burst into peals of loud, uncontrollable laughter. Sanjana stared at us in disbelief.
"What's all the laughing about?" inquired Zaara as she came up behind us with Tia. Sanjana turned around and with the air of someone who has been terribly wronged, recounted her tale of woe to the other two. They, too, stared for a few moments before bursting into a fit of giggles. Sanjana rolled her eyes and said, "Unbelievable! All of you!" "Yes, we know," said Kalyani, still grinning, "what are you going to do with us?"
Tia suddenly hopped up and said, "Does anyone have any food? I'm staaaarving..." Everyone turned to Zaara, who started and said, "Oh, yes, I do." She pulled out a Tupperware box from her bag and handed it to us, saying, "It's chapatti and chicken today." We dived at it, grabbing hungrily at its contents. Zaara was the kind who brought her lunch to college but never really got around to eating it. We weren't really complaining. We had tried persuading her to join us but who are we to mess with free will?
"Aaah!!! Food! Gimme!!!" A shrill familiar voice yelled from behind us. We turned to see Sania almost running towards us with Akriti, who seemed to be following her at a calmer pace. Akriti was actually from the nutrition department but we got to know her really well as she was in English class with the rest of us.
"Zaara," said Sania, her mouth half-stuffed, "I don't know what I would do without your food! I've been starving for the last hour or so." Akriti quickly said, "Don't talk with your mouth full. And yes, thank God for your food, Zaara, because this thing," she said pointing to Sania, who was crouching over the Tupperware box, "has been bugging me so much to go to the canteen with her." Sania looked up and said, "Hmm? Did you say something?" Akriti smiled at her and said, "Nothing, please continue hogging..." Sania looked back at her suspiciously and then turned to me and asked, "Told these guys about Hindi?" I looked at the group of grinning faces, looking like they were ready to pounce on me, and sighed.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
CHAPTER 3
“Self-actualization is the goal of every individual…” a voice droned on in my head. Stifling a yawn, I struggled to keep my eyes open and concentrate at least on the numerous drawings that decorated the margins of my page. Tia stretched her legs, a look of pain on her face. Sanjana and Aditi kept up a long conversation using a series of badly torn chits. Kalyani stared into space, a glazed look in her eyes and Zaara had dropped off to sleep.
Mahi rattled on about the goals of self-actualization while I tried to figure out how she could talk so fast and still manage to put an entire class to sleep. A few murmurs rose from the perfectly still figures in front of me. Class was up. Mahi picked up her books and skipped out of the room while a group of disillusioned students spilled out rapidly after her.
The six of us clustered together. “And I thought psychology was interesting. What was I thinking?” announced Sanjana. “Hmmm…” said a groggy Zaara. “OK, I have a call to make so I will catch you guys later. What’s our next extremely boring class?” asked Kalyani, reaching into her bag. “French, man. I don’t want to go!” said Aditi, pushing a few non-existent strands of hair back into place. “Yeah, whatever…” Zaara was still groggy. “For God’s sake, Zaara, go get yourself some coffee, you sound stoned!” I said, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as I waved to Leena, a hostelite who was walking back to get her books. “But I don’t like the coffee here!” whined Zaara. “Yeah, it tastes like metal. It’s not worth the money.” added Sanjana.
“Whatever,” I said, sighing as I stood up, “well people, it’s time for me to get to Hindi. I shall see you later.” The group waved back lazily in reply. Picking up my bag, I walked out of the room, my head bent down. A few minutes later, I found myself sitting in the classroom, studying the tiled floor beneath my feet while I listened to Mercy by Duffy.
"Hiiiii!!" yelled a boisterous voice from behind me. Startled out of my wits, I turned to see Sania walking into class, a large multi-coloured bag dangling from her side. A bright smile lit up her face as she plonked herself down heavily next to me (the word "plonked" is used because I can't find a better word to describe the action). I smiled back at her and turned off my mp3 player. "Met our new teacher yet?" she asked. I shook my head in reply and said, "I hope she's a little nicer than the last one."
-"Yes, may the last one rest in peace."
-"Hey, she loved you from the bottom of her heart man!"
"Of course," said Sania with a wacky accent ("wacky" - again due to the loss of words), "she loved me from the bottom of her ice-cold heart!"
A meaningless conversation thus ensued as the rest of the class filed in slowly. An unknown figure suddenly strode in authoritatively. My eyes popped at her bright green saree and contrasting bright orange slippers. I stared back in shock at Sania whose face held a priceless expression. She walked upto the front of the class, carelessly dropped her register on the desk and greeted us nonchalantly. "Dude, she looks scary." whispered Sania as everyone sat down. "She reminds me of one of those jailers from a Tamil movie!" I whispered back. The teacher informed us in her very smooth yet very South Indian-like Hindi that she would not be taking class for us today and that she would start tomorrow.
The hour passed with our new teacher shooting menacing glances everytime someone whispered and issued threats to every girl who dared to talk any louder. The bell rang and the entire class relaxed a little as she picked up her books and walked out. Well, almost the entire class. Sania and I remained glued to our seats in shock. "You know what?" I said. "What?" asked Sania, as she finally found the power in her legs to stand up. I pulled myself up using the chair in front of me and turned to her, "I miss the old one already, man!"
Mahi rattled on about the goals of self-actualization while I tried to figure out how she could talk so fast and still manage to put an entire class to sleep. A few murmurs rose from the perfectly still figures in front of me. Class was up. Mahi picked up her books and skipped out of the room while a group of disillusioned students spilled out rapidly after her.
The six of us clustered together. “And I thought psychology was interesting. What was I thinking?” announced Sanjana. “Hmmm…” said a groggy Zaara. “OK, I have a call to make so I will catch you guys later. What’s our next extremely boring class?” asked Kalyani, reaching into her bag. “French, man. I don’t want to go!” said Aditi, pushing a few non-existent strands of hair back into place. “Yeah, whatever…” Zaara was still groggy. “For God’s sake, Zaara, go get yourself some coffee, you sound stoned!” I said, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as I waved to Leena, a hostelite who was walking back to get her books. “But I don’t like the coffee here!” whined Zaara. “Yeah, it tastes like metal. It’s not worth the money.” added Sanjana.
“Whatever,” I said, sighing as I stood up, “well people, it’s time for me to get to Hindi. I shall see you later.” The group waved back lazily in reply. Picking up my bag, I walked out of the room, my head bent down. A few minutes later, I found myself sitting in the classroom, studying the tiled floor beneath my feet while I listened to Mercy by Duffy.
"Hiiiii!!" yelled a boisterous voice from behind me. Startled out of my wits, I turned to see Sania walking into class, a large multi-coloured bag dangling from her side. A bright smile lit up her face as she plonked herself down heavily next to me (the word "plonked" is used because I can't find a better word to describe the action). I smiled back at her and turned off my mp3 player. "Met our new teacher yet?" she asked. I shook my head in reply and said, "I hope she's a little nicer than the last one."
-"Yes, may the last one rest in peace."
-"Hey, she loved you from the bottom of her heart man!"
"Of course," said Sania with a wacky accent ("wacky" - again due to the loss of words), "she loved me from the bottom of her ice-cold heart!"
A meaningless conversation thus ensued as the rest of the class filed in slowly. An unknown figure suddenly strode in authoritatively. My eyes popped at her bright green saree and contrasting bright orange slippers. I stared back in shock at Sania whose face held a priceless expression. She walked upto the front of the class, carelessly dropped her register on the desk and greeted us nonchalantly. "Dude, she looks scary." whispered Sania as everyone sat down. "She reminds me of one of those jailers from a Tamil movie!" I whispered back. The teacher informed us in her very smooth yet very South Indian-like Hindi that she would not be taking class for us today and that she would start tomorrow.
The hour passed with our new teacher shooting menacing glances everytime someone whispered and issued threats to every girl who dared to talk any louder. The bell rang and the entire class relaxed a little as she picked up her books and walked out. Well, almost the entire class. Sania and I remained glued to our seats in shock. "You know what?" I said. "What?" asked Sania, as she finally found the power in her legs to stand up. I pulled myself up using the chair in front of me and turned to her, "I miss the old one already, man!"
Friday, September 5, 2008
SAVE THE OLIVE RIDLEYS!!!
A lot of you probably didn't know that Olive Ridleys nested at Dhamra, the same place where TATA is building a port. People who know me really well know that I have been trying to spread awareness and protest against the port. Till yesterday, I believed that as a person, I had a voice and my opinion mattered. I believed that if you stuck to something, you could help save it. I also believed that I could give the Olive Ridleys the voice they deserved.
Yesterday changed a lot of my views on my government. Why the government? Because it's the government that gave the tender to TATA, who is building the port for them but is stil at fault. Yes, the same government that introduced the Wildlife Protection Act that said that no constructions could be undertaken within a 15 km radius in an area that was inhabited by an endangered species. However, we're talking about two different governments here. The law was passed with the help of activists and environmentalists - the people of this country. The tender, however, was issued by people who can only be described as selfish who could have done such a thing for personal profit.
We live in a democracy. Or so we think. Yet censorship is more rampant than you could have imagined. From schools and colleges, the process is used repeatedly against you till you become blind to it. Until one day, the revelation comes, you open your eyes and what you see makes you want to scream with frustration. Censorship in schools, colleges and the press till in the end, your right to freedom of expression vanishes just like your right ti information. No reasons given. No questions will be entertained.
We cannot leave a certain Mr. Ratan Tata out of this. After all, one can only hope that he is not so shallow as to allow the extinction of an endangered species for the sake of a profit! So, Mr.Tata, if you're reading this, I implore of you, move your port because lives cost more than money. Otherwise, you may have to be bear the brunt of your actions and perhaps the anger of more than just one angry adolescent. I nearly changed my stand on this topic till I decided that I would look for more information. Here are a few links for you to see and perhaps understand why I chose the turtles over TATA: -
http://www.tehelka.com/story_main39.asp?filename=Op190708port_of.asp
http://www.hindu.com/2008/04/06/stories/2008040655651200.htm
http://www.wwfindia.org/about_wwf/what_we_do/marine/our_work/turtle_conservation/olive_ridley.cfm
Yesterday changed a lot of my views on my government. Why the government? Because it's the government that gave the tender to TATA, who is building the port for them but is stil at fault. Yes, the same government that introduced the Wildlife Protection Act that said that no constructions could be undertaken within a 15 km radius in an area that was inhabited by an endangered species. However, we're talking about two different governments here. The law was passed with the help of activists and environmentalists - the people of this country. The tender, however, was issued by people who can only be described as selfish who could have done such a thing for personal profit.
We live in a democracy. Or so we think. Yet censorship is more rampant than you could have imagined. From schools and colleges, the process is used repeatedly against you till you become blind to it. Until one day, the revelation comes, you open your eyes and what you see makes you want to scream with frustration. Censorship in schools, colleges and the press till in the end, your right to freedom of expression vanishes just like your right ti information. No reasons given. No questions will be entertained.
We cannot leave a certain Mr. Ratan Tata out of this. After all, one can only hope that he is not so shallow as to allow the extinction of an endangered species for the sake of a profit! So, Mr.Tata, if you're reading this, I implore of you, move your port because lives cost more than money. Otherwise, you may have to be bear the brunt of your actions and perhaps the anger of more than just one angry adolescent. I nearly changed my stand on this topic till I decided that I would look for more information. Here are a few links for you to see and perhaps understand why I chose the turtles over TATA: -
http://www.tehelka.com/story_main39.asp?filename=Op190708port_of.asp
http://www.hindu.com/2008/04/06/stories/2008040655651200.htm
http://www.wwfindia.org/about_wwf/what_we_do/marine/our_work/turtle_conservation/olive_ridley.cfm
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
CHAPTER 2
First things first, I have never really been scared of any teacher as such in my life. But there’s a first time for everything, right? The Head Of the Department (H.O.D.) had always been an intimidating person. The first time I saw her, my knees turned to jelly and I’m usually a very strong person. Mentally, at least. The hem of her neatly tied sari was enough to start the shivers. You can imagine my reaction when she walked into our class on the first day and announced that she would be teaching us for an entire semester.
English and Psychology had always been favourite subjects and after two amazing teachers in English, I was really looking forward to a fun semester. Our teacher walked in a little late but being the kind, caring class that we were (keyword : were), we forgave her. She introduced herself to us as Petunia Casper. When she started talking to us about what she was going to do this semester, I looked to my side and saw the entire class staring and sniggering at her feet. Curiously, I looked down to see her sari tied a good three to four inches above her ankles. A muffled giggle erupted from the row behind me. Petunia, thinking it was me (Shocking!), frowned at me. I sighed. This year was not going to do much for me at all.
Psychology class progressed quite calmly. Our new teacher, Mahi, seemed to be a rather nice person and was probably one of the few teachers we were happy to have. Thankfully, our new Hindi teacher didn’t turn up for her hour Not wanting to prolong an intensely painful day, I caught an auto and went back home.
As I sat at my desk doodling aimlessly, my sister walked in with a freshly prepared illogical tantrum. This time it was the ‘She has better stuff’ tantrum. My father, following closely on her heels, gave in and promised to buy her the latest Barbie doll she had seen on TV. Shaking my head disapprovingly with wisdom beyond my age pouring out of my ears, I turned back to the picture of a sun with glares and decided to add a few more finishing touches.
English and Psychology had always been favourite subjects and after two amazing teachers in English, I was really looking forward to a fun semester. Our teacher walked in a little late but being the kind, caring class that we were (keyword : were), we forgave her. She introduced herself to us as Petunia Casper. When she started talking to us about what she was going to do this semester, I looked to my side and saw the entire class staring and sniggering at her feet. Curiously, I looked down to see her sari tied a good three to four inches above her ankles. A muffled giggle erupted from the row behind me. Petunia, thinking it was me (Shocking!), frowned at me. I sighed. This year was not going to do much for me at all.
Psychology class progressed quite calmly. Our new teacher, Mahi, seemed to be a rather nice person and was probably one of the few teachers we were happy to have. Thankfully, our new Hindi teacher didn’t turn up for her hour Not wanting to prolong an intensely painful day, I caught an auto and went back home.
As I sat at my desk doodling aimlessly, my sister walked in with a freshly prepared illogical tantrum. This time it was the ‘She has better stuff’ tantrum. My father, following closely on her heels, gave in and promised to buy her the latest Barbie doll she had seen on TV. Shaking my head disapprovingly with wisdom beyond my age pouring out of my ears, I turned back to the picture of a sun with glares and decided to add a few more finishing touches.
CHAPTER 1
DISCLAIMER: -
The characters in this story are loosely based on real people and a few incidents here are also loosely based on real incidents. However, they still belong to me and cannot be used without my permission. I have taken a few creative liberties to ensure continuity in the storyline but then again how would you know? No humans were harmed during the writing of this book and if anyone wishes to sue me, let me once again remind you that this story is a fictional story… He he… And no this has not been plagiarized from any book so please don’t insult my creativity.. hmm?
CHAPTER - I: -
Here we have an introduction to the person who is not exactly the main character but is just recording the events that are happening around her.
A dark room with the curtains drawn blocking out the bright sunlight. A bed is hidden in the shadows in one corner of the room and is occupied by a figure sleeping peacefully. She moves slightly and opens her eyes. Shaking the sleep from them, she smiles peacefully, thinking about how beautiful the morning is. IF ONLY!!!
This is how the scene always begins. I open one sleepy eye trying to figure out where the hands of the clock are pointing so that I can catch a few more winks. A moment later, I jump out of bed and I start getting dressed while spewing the most colorful profanities. No, I have never noticed how beautiful the morning is.
The name’s Rhea - Rhea Prakash. And no matter how cool I try to make that sound, it always lands up falling flat. I am not a terrorist yet but I have a sneaky feeling that the girls who sit next to me in Hindi class are radicals. I am your average Indian girl living in an average looking apartment with average parents who, thankfully, are quite happy with my average marks.
I have never been exquisitely beautiful or extremely brilliant or athletic. Those people make up about 5 - 10% of the population and like my relatives always love to point out, I should be better than them and I’m just not trying. But if you think about it, if it wasn’t for people like me, the remaining 90 - 95% of the population wouldn’t exist. I’m just happy that I can contribute in some way.
I study psychology at a woman’s college (yeah, keep thinking and if you ask me, I’ll just say I don’t study there). My first year was a blast. The seniors noticed me only thrice during the first few dangerous months. School’s bad times were so far back that it seemed like ancient history now. I also made an amazing and entertaining set of friends. And just when everything was fine, the second year came - I should have seen it coming…
The characters in this story are loosely based on real people and a few incidents here are also loosely based on real incidents. However, they still belong to me and cannot be used without my permission. I have taken a few creative liberties to ensure continuity in the storyline but then again how would you know?
CHAPTER - I: -
Here we have an introduction to the person who is not exactly the main character but is just recording the events that are happening around her.
A dark room with the curtains drawn blocking out the bright sunlight. A bed is hidden in the shadows in one corner of the room and is occupied by a figure sleeping peacefully. She moves slightly and opens her eyes. Shaking the sleep from them, she smiles peacefully, thinking about how beautiful the morning is. IF ONLY!!!
This is how the scene always begins. I open one sleepy eye trying to figure out where the hands of the clock are pointing so that I can catch a few more winks. A moment later, I jump out of bed and I start getting dressed while spewing the most colorful profanities. No, I have never noticed how beautiful the morning is.
The name’s Rhea - Rhea Prakash. And no matter how cool I try to make that sound, it always lands up falling flat. I am not a terrorist yet but I have a sneaky feeling that the girls who sit next to me in Hindi class are radicals. I am your average Indian girl living in an average looking apartment with average parents who, thankfully, are quite happy with my average marks.
I have never been exquisitely beautiful or extremely brilliant or athletic. Those people make up about 5 - 10% of the population and like my relatives always love to point out, I should be better than them and I’m just not trying. But if you think about it, if it wasn’t for people like me, the remaining 90 - 95% of the population wouldn’t exist. I’m just happy that I can contribute in some way.
I study psychology at a woman’s college (yeah, keep thinking and if you ask me, I’ll just say I don’t study there). My first year was a blast. The seniors noticed me only thrice during the first few dangerous months. School’s bad times were so far back that it seemed like ancient history now. I also made an amazing and entertaining set of friends. And just when everything was fine, the second year came - I should have seen it coming…
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