28 Mar 2009
TV in Bedroom
Age 10:
Chamu: Mom can I have TV in my room? I don’t get sleep and there is no company.
Mom: No you can’t.
Chamu: Why?
Mom: you are still young!
Age 16:
Chamu: Mom can I have TV in my room? I don’t get sleep and there is no company.
Mom: No you can’t.
Chamu: Why?
Mom: You have 10th board exams!
Age 18:
Chamu: Mom can I have TV in my room? I don’t get sleep and there is no company.
Mom: No you can’t.
Chamu: Why?
Mom: You have 12th board exams!
Age 20:
Chamu: Mom can I have TV in my room? I don’t get sleep and there is no company.
Mom: No you can’t.
Chamu: Why?
Mom: You are doing your Engineering!
Age *yea like I’ll tell you now*:
Mom: I have shifted TV to your room.
Chamu: Why?
Mom: Coz you’re getting married!!
Chamu wonders “Now I don’t need company. And by the way is the TV really for me?”
27 Mar 2009
24 Mar 2009
Handily Devastated.
“Why is my sister’s legs twisted ma?” asked 4yr old Krupa. “It’s a new born baby so it just seems a little twisted that’s all” explained her mom.
Little did mom know that the small twist will tangle her entire family’s bliss!
“Blount's disease” the doctors had declared. Not that solution did not exist; Bracing was always available but what did not exist was money. The head of the family was after all just a gardener in one of those wealthier houses whose bread earner’s hobby was gardening. Mom wished people in the wealthier houses had hobbies of helping disabled babies grow, but reality was that the baby was jinxed and she could do just nothing.
As years passed the hardship increased. Staying at home was the only option for her. The society would not let her live in peace. The constant teasing and commenting forced her to stay indoors. Family and relatives called her “Waste” and that was how she felt too, "a waste", fit for nothing girl.
“She doesn’t go anywhere” mom panicked. “Its close to 10pm and she isn't home. Something is wrong”
Mom was comforted by family that she will return. How far can a 14yr old crippled girl go after all, they said.
Next day mom received a parcel, it had a lakh and a note that read “Achieved”
What the family was also clueless was that morning headlines “Rapist Shot Dead in front of High court”
Rapist accused of mercilessly raping 18 girls was shot dead by a 14yr old girl last night. She shot herself after that. The girl is not yet identified. One of the unnamed revolutionary club claims the responsibility. This club believes in violent and revolutionary stance towards the culprits and says is against the current judiciary system that can never mark justice . . .
& the crippled 14yr old girl had gone very far!
19 Mar 2009
Dubaara Math Puchna
I am leading a “Mute” life at home these days; that’s not watching TV, not talking loud over the phone to be precise the whole talking is prohibited due to the ongoing PU board exams (Yes Vatti is studying). I and mom are forced to text each other inside home sweet home. Also I am juggling between not-so-obvious heavy work at office, filling appraisals, blogging for SPI’s online presence to obvious wedding shopping at home (Please do not expect me to list the tasks as that by itself will become a big post).
Past many have asked how & when & why I started writing including my fiancée. Today I was briefing one of my colleagues the “actually what happened story” and it struck to me that it must put up here as well so that whenever someone shoots the same set of questionnaire I just lead them towards this post.
Its very interesting why I started writing!!
This goes way back when I had my “I Love You Rasna girl” haircut; Hmm say 3rd std.
In one of the Parent Teacher meet, the class teacher told mom how good I was in my studies, how good my vocabulary was, and how good I was in many other things (which if listed feels like I am blowing my own trumpet), and finally teacher complained that I talk a lot. I still remember the kind of let-me-get-home-and-tackle-you look mom gave me.
I guess even teacher saw that fierce gaze so she came up with the solution that she will change the place where I sit and put me between guys. Now how that would stop me from talking I never got an answer.
I am sure you would have guessed that it did not help much in solving the problem; all though I never thought that it was a problem. What is the big deal if someone talks too much? Why does it bother anyways?
Getting back to the topic (Oh I guess problem is that it wastes time), anyways, so in the next Parent Teacher meeting the same was reported. Mom suggested that I should be made the monitor so that I get the task of pointing who talks standing near the blackboard with no one around to chat with.
See this is what you call an idea. I am so thankful to the Mendel and his genetics; both of us get weirdest of all ideas and we also implement them by hook or crook.
There I was, monitor of the class. If you think this was the solution, negative. Myself being so talkative I encouraged people to talk & yap by not writing any names on the blackboard. The tension increased and the class became the noisiest of all. Teacher was blamed and she in turn blamed mom.
This was when mom actually bought matters home. She made me my favorite gulab jamun and asked me why I talk. “I love to talk” was my answer.
She came up with another idea and recommended when ever I felt like talking I should take out a book and write. The End; I mean story over and that is how it started. Everyone started living happily ever after.
For me writing is more than anything in the world; I loved writing letters to people (even my neighbors) until mobile phones came into picture.
Those were the dry days but soon email era started & my happiness knew no bounds when the concept of “Blogs” started
So if you want to be an aspiring writer, just keep that finger (fore finger) on your lips and start scribbling.
Past many have asked how & when & why I started writing including my fiancée. Today I was briefing one of my colleagues the “actually what happened story” and it struck to me that it must put up here as well so that whenever someone shoots the same set of questionnaire I just lead them towards this post.
Its very interesting why I started writing!!
This goes way back when I had my “I Love You Rasna girl” haircut; Hmm say 3rd std.
In one of the Parent Teacher meet, the class teacher told mom how good I was in my studies, how good my vocabulary was, and how good I was in many other things (which if listed feels like I am blowing my own trumpet), and finally teacher complained that I talk a lot. I still remember the kind of let-me-get-home-and-tackle-you look mom gave me.
I guess even teacher saw that fierce gaze so she came up with the solution that she will change the place where I sit and put me between guys. Now how that would stop me from talking I never got an answer.
I am sure you would have guessed that it did not help much in solving the problem; all though I never thought that it was a problem. What is the big deal if someone talks too much? Why does it bother anyways?
Getting back to the topic (Oh I guess problem is that it wastes time), anyways, so in the next Parent Teacher meeting the same was reported. Mom suggested that I should be made the monitor so that I get the task of pointing who talks standing near the blackboard with no one around to chat with.
See this is what you call an idea. I am so thankful to the Mendel and his genetics; both of us get weirdest of all ideas and we also implement them by hook or crook.
There I was, monitor of the class. If you think this was the solution, negative. Myself being so talkative I encouraged people to talk & yap by not writing any names on the blackboard. The tension increased and the class became the noisiest of all. Teacher was blamed and she in turn blamed mom.
This was when mom actually bought matters home. She made me my favorite gulab jamun and asked me why I talk. “I love to talk” was my answer.
She came up with another idea and recommended when ever I felt like talking I should take out a book and write. The End; I mean story over and that is how it started. Everyone started living happily ever after.
For me writing is more than anything in the world; I loved writing letters to people (even my neighbors) until mobile phones came into picture.
Those were the dry days but soon email era started & my happiness knew no bounds when the concept of “Blogs” started
So if you want to be an aspiring writer, just keep that finger (fore finger) on your lips and start scribbling.
