I can feel my heart beating. Fast. Very Fast. My legs shake, and my throat is dry. I want to say something, but I cant. And the tears sting my eyes. Why do I feel so? My peers from my sixth grade class are picking on me yet again. They had found me, a new girl to this class, to the school, to the country, rather a easy target. It was surprising how cruel they could really be. My anguish seemed like their happiness. My pain their joy. They seem to find lots of occasions to tell me I was different, and wasn't welcome.
On friendship day that year a girl bought cards for everyone in the class. Except for me. As she passed the cards to everyone, it was first time the girl, and others in the class realized that I actually existed. And then started series of nasty tricks, comments. They made fun of my accent, my clothing, anything that they found as being different. One very religious girl in the class wanted to convert me to a her religion. She told me I would go to hell because I was a Hindu. She told me I would be saved if I become Catholic. I was rather shocked, I had never heard expressions such as "go to hell". When I refused to do so, she accused me of being the servant of the devil. Again I, who was ignorant in such words up till then, was not only taken aback but dismayed by their accusation.
The boys in the class had the tendency of asking questions that they knew I would be offended by. They asked me whether everyone in my country smells bad, whether they pick garbage from the streets and eat and whether they get dots drilled in their heads. To ignore the taunting and the prospect of eating alone in the cafeteria, I started going to the library and hiding behind stacks of books, and eating lunch discreetly, hoping the librarian wouldn't catch me. The library became my haven for that hour, and my love for books grew. I decided I would spend the rest if the lunches this way, however the librarian caught me one day and told me to start mingling with the rest of the class.
So I started "hanging out" with the "cool" kids in the class. To be liked by them, I started acting like them. I started making fun of others just like they had done to me. I thought this would make me happy, but I was wrong. Totally wrong. On one occasion as me and my "cool" friends sat together outside during the lunch time, a woman passed by. She was maybe in her late thirties, with a huge smile, that seemed to lit up her face yet give a comical impression at the same time. As she approached the other girls started laughing. She came up to me, and gave me a compliment about my hair. Instead of thanking her, I laughed along with the other "cool" kids. The woman's face changed instantly as she saw me laughing, and I knew I had hurt her feelings. Later that day as I sat in my history class, rather then listening to the teacher talk about the civil war all I could think of was, what I had done. I came to realize that what I was doing was wrong and against what I stood for, and so I decided to go back being the real me. I stopped following them and trying to be like them. Every time I felt that what they were doing was wrong I would stand up to them. This made them turn against me even more, but now I was no longer frightened my their teasing and taunting. They themselves had taught me a new defence.
After that school year I moved to another town and then to another, here my differences and my ideas were accepted. I was welcomed and I made new friends. Yet those memories in my first year in the new country taught me valuable lessons that I never forgot and never will. I learned that I needn't become like someone to be accepted, that I stand up for what I believe in and accept others as they are.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Gloom/Bloom ?
Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom or Bloom?
I must be going crazy as some say...;)
Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom,Gloom,Bloom
Gloom or Bloom?
I must be going crazy as some say...;)
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
My Visit to India
I dont remeber when I wrote this, I think in middle school, soon after my return from a visit to India...
-----------------------
I close my eyes and remember the day, we went to visit India
I remember stepping into the Mumbai Airport smelling the hot sizzling samosas.
And the warmth, and the hum of the ceiling fan
The wait in Mumbai was long, four hours of staring at my diary
Trying to write something, yet finding no words
The flight to Hyderabad, the warm "Namaste" of the air hostess
We reached Hyderabad
I waited staring at the door labeled "visitors", as it opened and closed
Trying to see if my grandmothers were there
Trying to see the faces of my relatives.
I was the first to walk out, lugging suitcases along.
My cousins shouting my name, hugging me. My aunts and uncles asking me questions.
And behind them all, my grandmothers waiting for their turn.
And I closed my eyes, and truly felt, that I had come home.
-----------------------
I close my eyes and remember the day, we went to visit India
I remember stepping into the Mumbai Airport smelling the hot sizzling samosas.
And the warmth, and the hum of the ceiling fan
The wait in Mumbai was long, four hours of staring at my diary
Trying to write something, yet finding no words
The flight to Hyderabad, the warm "Namaste" of the air hostess
We reached Hyderabad
I waited staring at the door labeled "visitors", as it opened and closed
Trying to see if my grandmothers were there
Trying to see the faces of my relatives.
I was the first to walk out, lugging suitcases along.
My cousins shouting my name, hugging me. My aunts and uncles asking me questions.
And behind them all, my grandmothers waiting for their turn.
And I closed my eyes, and truly felt, that I had come home.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Monday, August 13, 2007
20 funny one liners
Got this in email...who ever came up with them I am guessing was a guy...
_____________________________________________________
Twenty Great One Liners.....
1. Regular naps prevent old age... especially if you take them while driving.
2. Having one child makes you a parent; having two makes you a referee.
3. Marriage is a relationship in which one person is always right and the other is the husband!
4. They said we should all pay our tax with a smile. I tried- but they wanted cash.
5. A child's greatest period of growth is the month after you've purchased new school uniforms.
6. Don't feel bad. A lot of people have no talent.
7. Don't marry the person you want to live with, marry the one you cannot live without... but whatever you do, you'll regret it later.
8. You can't buy love. . But you pay heavily for it.
9. True friends stab you in the front.
10. Forgiveness is giving up my right to hate you for hurting me.
11. Bad officials are elected by good citizens who do not vote.
12. Laziness is nothing more than the habit of resting before you get tired.
13. My wife and I always compromise. I admit I'm wrong and she agrees with me.
14. Those who can't laugh at themselves leave the job to others.
15. Ladies first. Pretty ladies sooner.
16. It doesn't matter how often a married man changes his job, he still ends up with the same boss.
17. They call our language the mother tongue because the father seldom gets to speak.
18. Saving is the best thing. Especially when your parents have done it for you.
19. Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools talk because they have to say something.
20. Real friends are the ones who survive transitions between address books.
_____________________________________________________
Twenty Great One Liners.....
1. Regular naps prevent old age... especially if you take them while driving.
2. Having one child makes you a parent; having two makes you a referee.
3. Marriage is a relationship in which one person is always right and the other is the husband!
4. They said we should all pay our tax with a smile. I tried- but they wanted cash.
5. A child's greatest period of growth is the month after you've purchased new school uniforms.
6. Don't feel bad. A lot of people have no talent.
7. Don't marry the person you want to live with, marry the one you cannot live without... but whatever you do, you'll regret it later.
8. You can't buy love. . But you pay heavily for it.
9. True friends stab you in the front.
10. Forgiveness is giving up my right to hate you for hurting me.
11. Bad officials are elected by good citizens who do not vote.
12. Laziness is nothing more than the habit of resting before you get tired.
13. My wife and I always compromise. I admit I'm wrong and she agrees with me.
14. Those who can't laugh at themselves leave the job to others.
15. Ladies first. Pretty ladies sooner.
16. It doesn't matter how often a married man changes his job, he still ends up with the same boss.
17. They call our language the mother tongue because the father seldom gets to speak.
18. Saving is the best thing. Especially when your parents have done it for you.
19. Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools talk because they have to say something.
20. Real friends are the ones who survive transitions between address books.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Funny Story
Here is something I got in email. Am sharing it with you...
---
Two elderly people living in Trailer Estates, he was a Widower and she a widow, they had known each other for a number of years.One evening there was a community supper in the big activity center. The two were at the same table, across from one another as the meal went on, he took a few admiring glances at her and finally gathered the courage to ask her, " Will you marry me?"After about six seconds of ' careful consideration' , she answered "Yes. Yes, I will. "The meal ended and, with a few more pleasant exchanges, they went to Their respective places.Next morning, he was troubled. "Did she say 'yes' or did she say 'no'?" He couldn't remember. Try as he might, he just Could not recall. Not even a faint memory. With trepidation, he went to the telephone and called her.First, he explained that he didn't remember as well as he used to. Then he reviewed the lovely evening past. As he gained a little more courage, he inquired, "When I asked if you would marry me, did you say 'Yes' or did you say 'No'?"He was delighted to hear her say, "Why, I said, 'Yes, yes I will' and I Meant it with all my heart. " Then she continued, "I am so glad that you called, because I couldn't remember who had asked me."
---
Two elderly people living in Trailer Estates, he was a Widower and she a widow, they had known each other for a number of years.One evening there was a community supper in the big activity center. The two were at the same table, across from one another as the meal went on, he took a few admiring glances at her and finally gathered the courage to ask her, " Will you marry me?"After about six seconds of ' careful consideration' , she answered "Yes. Yes, I will. "The meal ended and, with a few more pleasant exchanges, they went to Their respective places.Next morning, he was troubled. "Did she say 'yes' or did she say 'no'?" He couldn't remember. Try as he might, he just Could not recall. Not even a faint memory. With trepidation, he went to the telephone and called her.First, he explained that he didn't remember as well as he used to. Then he reviewed the lovely evening past. As he gained a little more courage, he inquired, "When I asked if you would marry me, did you say 'Yes' or did you say 'No'?"He was delighted to hear her say, "Why, I said, 'Yes, yes I will' and I Meant it with all my heart. " Then she continued, "I am so glad that you called, because I couldn't remember who had asked me."
Monday, August 6, 2007
Anamika
Started writing this fictional short story a long time ago. Finished it only recently. Hope you enjoy it. Do leave comments. Thanks...
-------------------------------------------------
I dont know what made me decide. I was just sitting on a rock, and the waves were washing agaisnt it. It was night, there was a moon, very large and beautiful. Nothing else. No bustling tourists, no lone figures in the distance, no lovers with their hands entwined, no one. It was a calm night. Just me, my thoughts, and memories. The dark memories that always haunted me. When I wasnt with other people, or wasnt watching TV or reading, or at work, they came back to keep me company. Not that I wanted them but they came anyway. And then there was the guilt, but worse than that was the pain that came along. It came suddenly, searing through me, the tears would roll down my eyes, and momentarily the pain and the tears would blind me from everthing except the truth. Sometimes I tried ignoring it, but it never worked. It just stayed there like a bad taste, lingering, not leaving even after rinsing the mouth. So while sitting on that rock I decided. I would go to the hospital. And do what I was always afraid to do...
I started for the hospital the next day itself after my usual Saturday shopping. While going to the hospital I wondered what he would say, maybe he'll throw things at me, or scream or what? I could'nt think of anything pleasant,I made up scenarios in my head of what may happen, but nothing made much sense.
The hospital was a dingy place, with a couple of broken windows and the paint peeling off in places. It had an air of an abandoned building, though it wasnt. I had passed it hundreds of time in the last few years, but never dared go in. By the time I reached and parked my car, it was well after my usual lunchtime and yet I felt no hunger. Instead I felt an aching numbness and an unknown desire to throw up. Nervousness, and fear. Worse than I had imagined. What was I afraid of? The blame, the well deserved blame.
The first thing I noticed about the hospital was the smell. The smell was strong, suffocating, the smell of medicines, white bandages, red and yellow. I had liked the smell once, a long time ago when I was young. But now it made me double over with grief, as sharp vivid images flew into my head. I tried ignoring them and walked to the desk where a woman was sitting, reading a film magazine. She looked up as I approacehd her. I sttaggered as I spoke to her. She seemed to be used to visitors and patients with nervous breakdowns because without blinking an eye she looked up the name and told me where to go.
I paused before going into the room, as the door was closed. I felt uneasy, maybe I should leave. Yet I knocked on the door. Nothing. And then a moment later a voice. Clear and surprised? "Come in". I entered the room and closed the door behind me. The boy was lying on a cot with blankets upto his chest. He was bald and his skin was pale, very pale. I felt myself going livid. And then unexpected tears. He looked worse than I had imagined, much worse. And his eyes so empty and sad. Sad. I remembered my brother.
He spoke first.
" Um...who are you?"
I wondered if he would remember. Maybe. Maybe not. And then he said,
" You seemed to have come to the wrong place. I am an AIDS patient".
I didnt know what to say.
" I..I have come to visit you".
His expression was one of surprise.
"Are you a doctor, nurse?", "no".
I didnt say anything, just started at him. He stared back, with a look of curiousity and concern?
" I have come to talk to you about something important, really important"
He tilted his head sideways, looking at me like a child,
" um..but I dont seem to know you, have we met before?"
I thought about that. Have we? Not really, I had seen him before but he hasnt seen me. Almost four years ago, lying on a cot similar to this one, unconsious. And lying on another cot had been my brother.
I sat down on a chair, a rickety chair with uneven legs. He must have sensed something, for he asked,
" you alright mam?"
"yea I am fine"
He smiled, showing his teeth, which were yellow.
" I never get any visitors, except my brother, so it seems strange someone have come to see me"
I tried smiling back. But could'nt.
"Anirudh, do you remember who ingested you with the HIV virus?...do you?"
He looked perplexed.
" No I am afraid not, I don't know his name. But he...he had AIDS, I know that. He was..."
He paused and looked up.
" Why do you ask?"
" His name was Anant. He was my brother."
There was a pause. I could hear the traffic outside.
"ooh...How is he doing, is he any better?"
I looked up. His face showed genuine concern. I was moved. Was he not angry?
" He died. Killed himself"
He let out an involuntary sigh. I looked up and continued.
" What he did was wrong, but it wasnt his fault. It was mine. It was me, my parents. We made his do that."
He didnt say anything. I could feel the tears trickling down my face.
" When we found out he had HIV. We sent him to a hospital, far away from us. We didnt visit his once. All we could about was the family name. What would people think when they knew Anant had AIDS, we could'nt let them know. We shut him off from out lives. He tried reaching us, running away from the hospital. But each time he was thown out, and sent back. I wanted to visit, my parents did too. But we never did. We took away all the light from his life. And then one day he ran away from the hospital again. This time he didnt come home, instead he ran into a restaurant, the place you worked in. And he...."
Another pause.
" It wasnt his fault. He was always a nice, caring...the circumstaces turned him into..."
I looked at him. There were tears in his eyes.
" The reason you are like this today, is me. Only me. Not my brother. "
He didnt say, he looked at me with his caring gaze.
I dont know how long I sat there like that. Crying. It might have been minutes, hours...
---
Anirudh died a year ago. Fifteen years after he was infected. He died suddenly. And I would like to think happily. Only two days before his death, he told me and his brother, how he was ready to die, die a happy man. We both told him to shut his mouth and eat. And the moment passed as quickly as it came. Now I hope that he had meant what he said...
Anshul is working in the town now, no longer living with me. He comes every weekend and we go to the shore often. And as I sit on a rock watching him talk I often feel like I am seeing both Anirudh and Anant talking along. Or maybe its just a trick of my eye in the moon's light.
-------------------------------------------------
I dont know what made me decide. I was just sitting on a rock, and the waves were washing agaisnt it. It was night, there was a moon, very large and beautiful. Nothing else. No bustling tourists, no lone figures in the distance, no lovers with their hands entwined, no one. It was a calm night. Just me, my thoughts, and memories. The dark memories that always haunted me. When I wasnt with other people, or wasnt watching TV or reading, or at work, they came back to keep me company. Not that I wanted them but they came anyway. And then there was the guilt, but worse than that was the pain that came along. It came suddenly, searing through me, the tears would roll down my eyes, and momentarily the pain and the tears would blind me from everthing except the truth. Sometimes I tried ignoring it, but it never worked. It just stayed there like a bad taste, lingering, not leaving even after rinsing the mouth. So while sitting on that rock I decided. I would go to the hospital. And do what I was always afraid to do...
I started for the hospital the next day itself after my usual Saturday shopping. While going to the hospital I wondered what he would say, maybe he'll throw things at me, or scream or what? I could'nt think of anything pleasant,I made up scenarios in my head of what may happen, but nothing made much sense.
The hospital was a dingy place, with a couple of broken windows and the paint peeling off in places. It had an air of an abandoned building, though it wasnt. I had passed it hundreds of time in the last few years, but never dared go in. By the time I reached and parked my car, it was well after my usual lunchtime and yet I felt no hunger. Instead I felt an aching numbness and an unknown desire to throw up. Nervousness, and fear. Worse than I had imagined. What was I afraid of? The blame, the well deserved blame.
The first thing I noticed about the hospital was the smell. The smell was strong, suffocating, the smell of medicines, white bandages, red and yellow. I had liked the smell once, a long time ago when I was young. But now it made me double over with grief, as sharp vivid images flew into my head. I tried ignoring them and walked to the desk where a woman was sitting, reading a film magazine. She looked up as I approacehd her. I sttaggered as I spoke to her. She seemed to be used to visitors and patients with nervous breakdowns because without blinking an eye she looked up the name and told me where to go.
I paused before going into the room, as the door was closed. I felt uneasy, maybe I should leave. Yet I knocked on the door. Nothing. And then a moment later a voice. Clear and surprised? "Come in". I entered the room and closed the door behind me. The boy was lying on a cot with blankets upto his chest. He was bald and his skin was pale, very pale. I felt myself going livid. And then unexpected tears. He looked worse than I had imagined, much worse. And his eyes so empty and sad. Sad. I remembered my brother.
He spoke first.
" Um...who are you?"
I wondered if he would remember. Maybe. Maybe not. And then he said,
" You seemed to have come to the wrong place. I am an AIDS patient".
I didnt know what to say.
" I..I have come to visit you".
His expression was one of surprise.
"Are you a doctor, nurse?", "no".
I didnt say anything, just started at him. He stared back, with a look of curiousity and concern?
" I have come to talk to you about something important, really important"
He tilted his head sideways, looking at me like a child,
" um..but I dont seem to know you, have we met before?"
I thought about that. Have we? Not really, I had seen him before but he hasnt seen me. Almost four years ago, lying on a cot similar to this one, unconsious. And lying on another cot had been my brother.
I sat down on a chair, a rickety chair with uneven legs. He must have sensed something, for he asked,
" you alright mam?"
"yea I am fine"
He smiled, showing his teeth, which were yellow.
" I never get any visitors, except my brother, so it seems strange someone have come to see me"
I tried smiling back. But could'nt.
"Anirudh, do you remember who ingested you with the HIV virus?...do you?"
He looked perplexed.
" No I am afraid not, I don't know his name. But he...he had AIDS, I know that. He was..."
He paused and looked up.
" Why do you ask?"
" His name was Anant. He was my brother."
There was a pause. I could hear the traffic outside.
"ooh...How is he doing, is he any better?"
I looked up. His face showed genuine concern. I was moved. Was he not angry?
" He died. Killed himself"
He let out an involuntary sigh. I looked up and continued.
" What he did was wrong, but it wasnt his fault. It was mine. It was me, my parents. We made his do that."
He didnt say anything. I could feel the tears trickling down my face.
" When we found out he had HIV. We sent him to a hospital, far away from us. We didnt visit his once. All we could about was the family name. What would people think when they knew Anant had AIDS, we could'nt let them know. We shut him off from out lives. He tried reaching us, running away from the hospital. But each time he was thown out, and sent back. I wanted to visit, my parents did too. But we never did. We took away all the light from his life. And then one day he ran away from the hospital again. This time he didnt come home, instead he ran into a restaurant, the place you worked in. And he...."
Another pause.
" It wasnt his fault. He was always a nice, caring...the circumstaces turned him into..."
I looked at him. There were tears in his eyes.
" The reason you are like this today, is me. Only me. Not my brother. "
He didnt say, he looked at me with his caring gaze.
I dont know how long I sat there like that. Crying. It might have been minutes, hours...
---
Anirudh died a year ago. Fifteen years after he was infected. He died suddenly. And I would like to think happily. Only two days before his death, he told me and his brother, how he was ready to die, die a happy man. We both told him to shut his mouth and eat. And the moment passed as quickly as it came. Now I hope that he had meant what he said...
Anshul is working in the town now, no longer living with me. He comes every weekend and we go to the shore often. And as I sit on a rock watching him talk I often feel like I am seeing both Anirudh and Anant talking along. Or maybe its just a trick of my eye in the moon's light.
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