Life, the artist versatile, shaped me to a pot. Receive, store, fill whatever is given without straining it. He helped me fix a strainer and my pot has shrunken its size. What is left, is only a few lessons people taught.
You, the smoky white droplets of the south west monsoon, Pause a while, before you hurry to cross places and country sides... Whom do you meet on your way that sometimes you become calm and sometimes aggressive? Why do you huddle your pace as if you're on a mission, and then suddenly lower your pace? What do you murmur with the hobnobber thunder that sometimes he laughs aloud, and sometimes just smile with a flash?
What makes you mettlesome that you let yourself chuckle and suddenly downcast at times, then howl and finally a wail? When do you ask your companion gale to accompany you, is it when you feel lonely or when you keep your vengeance mode on? Why do you switch country sides, is it to bless each or just that you love to change your travelling gown? What makes you stay here for long, is it that you love to stay or just to fill the granaries? What vow do you take when you quit, is it to clear the dust and dirt every time it accumulates in mass? Would you once drop in swiftly to pacify the bleak soul of mine with the fresh and cool bland touch of yours? Like The Phoenix the lost spirits in me needs the frozen warmth of your hands. Shall I keep the door of my heart open to receive you once you drop in?
The good old days! After taking a day’s break from work, to enjoy the arrival of the dusky lady, Monsoon, I just recollect and fondle my association with the lady for over thirty memorable years. As I could remember, our friendship started exactly like it’s portrayed in the picture. She never forgot to visit our houses and fields early in June and would depart us only after mid-September, that too unwillingly. Sometimes her friends too come along, though they are not welcomed fondly.
By May end, all the school going children would get ready for the new academic season with their new bags , books and definitely an Umbrella, usually bigger than their own sizes. Donning themselves in sometimes plain, sometimes coloured raincoats, anyone would love to have a road trip with her company. The wind that accompanies her would carry the umbrellas away to her directions. Hardly June knocks on our doors, the motherly lady too comes along, showing all her love on her children. Breakfast, lunch and for evening tea she never fails to accord her mates. Playing in the mud puddles, skating and splashing , the children too would enjoy her company. How can we forget her cool embrace just as we start to and start back? Everything in nature would respond to her call. The mango trees, laden with fruits empty her store during monsoon itself. The rivers at spate would change her white cloak into a brown one. The new song which she sings with chorus is a much awaited number any one would cherish to listen to, often.
I have special memories to myself when monsoon hits. I would sip hot tea, cover myself with a blanket, and would dream of the days when we, as children, ran to our orchards to pluck the fresh mushrooms that would sprout on the evening thunder , would imagine myself picking those fallen mangoes and smell it first, later filling it in sacks, would think of the the river by my home town which remains in spate and my trip every evening in a houseful boat for my maths tutions, our visit to see the sub merged paddy fields…all these flashes right in front of my eyes.
For hearts in love, she’s the lady love herself. With a romantic look, she recreates memorable moments in such hearts. Who wouldn’t love to have an exclusive long drive, who wouldn’t love to get wet, who wouldn’t mind to sit and talk, who wouldn’t mind to dream of their distant love, who wouldn’t love to fantasise their lives together, who wouldn’t love to cuddle with their partners? To me, monsoon has always been the epitome of love with her lustrous look. The halo she creates, with her onset is nonparallel, perhaps no other lady can recreate such aura. And I swear, I fall in love with her every time she seems appalling to me.
Monsoon was never fierce as she becomes at times these days. Her romantic, caring attitude has changed way for grudge. Flooding was never a feature she exhibited then. Everything changed over these years, except a few old hearts, I feel. Only those hearts that would hesitate to change! Can I become one among them and long for those old days to be back again?For I need to fall in love with you again!
Back then when in love I longed for a pair of hands Ached for those hands to gently fondle my dried tears that sprang from the immaterial source, due to intense dolour, dejection and despondence that lasted for decades. Back then when in grief, I panted for breath, fresh and gay for those unspoken strings to let out a huge stream of sighs, to melt down the heaviness into threads of wool waving softly, in the gasp and then colour those with the golden paint of beatitude. Back then when in distress, I yearned for a divine soul In person to transmogrify my sorrowful grudge into petals of butter rose, worn but true, pure but less aromatic, and then inquire that personified love to hold those petals from falling. Now often, I wish those worn bits of sentiments to return to me, Just to complete my womanhood and metamorphose me into a New Woman with the same Heart!
Character shaming a certain character who is worse than Brutus and Cassius put together is no sin: This is the norm I carry throughout my write-up as the character I am going to focus on, deserves nothing more than that. Well, though it is a second hand personal experience, I thought I better narrate it as a story, so that the person may not directly confront me and file a case of defamation😂 against me. I leave the decision of judgement of the character to you my dear readers, though I doubt I can effectively portray that character, my confrontation with the character on a regular basis can nowhere match your judgement of the character’s nature of behaviour. He’s simply a silent killer!
One of my friend who works in a private institution as a teacher is generally very outspoken and bold especially in dealing with her colleagues of whom a few are talented and the rest belonging to the family of traitors whose class I already mentioned in the first paragraph. She has a nice rapport with the students and the students too liked her for her attitude, approach and obviously teaching! She has better organisational skills too which she proved time and again. She was instrumental in introducing and organising many programmes for the all round development of the student community. No matter what, students had the habit of approaching her and share their academic and sometimes personal matters, sometimes even without a solution. When I said involvement, it was inclusive of the students and nobody else. The heads who should have physically involved in the running of the many programmes failed to do that, some pretended as if they morally lend their support, but she was no fool to believe them and never did, even once.
Especially after the conduction of a certain programme (I remember she having confessed to me), one among her colleagues, The Tail(according to her, that’s what he lacks) , after recovering from an illness has slightly changed his views on her which before that was not very impressive. The Tail is more of a lady than a man( not biologically) to my friend. He adorns his position as someone who’s designated, but in effect fails to do the primary functions than the secondary and the least important ones. Whenever scenes of crisis arises, he simply vacates the place with a shameful art.In front of her he praises her and in her absence or just behind her,he ridicules. The expressions with which he does the ridiculing art only suits him and hence no other Male.
Truly speaking he should have permanently remembered her service to the wing and hence to the institution, as not a single soul than her, worked, not even he himself. Acknowledging that, was his primary duty at least when there were times to speak out. But a coward never would use such forums rather he would try to satisfy everybody. Satisfying those under him is a must, provided they deserve it. Power can be used for the best alternatives, dear The Tail. Getting all the things done for no recognition is nowhere in the books of HR, I suppose.
The Tail has a trusted friend in Ms. Loudmouth. Their chemistry really works🤣. Believe me, not a single character escapes from their tortures! When I promised to write for my friend, I also swore her of maintaining a certain decorum while bringing out their original selves.
No one in the world is perfect, we speak about others but when it exceeds the limit of dignity, to demoralise the right, don’t always win hearts. When our misdeeds exceed The Supreme would definitely hit us down. Hitting once is a warning. If that doesn’t become a new page in our lives, that warning can have different shapes. Good, if all of us remember the simple truths of our little lives and REVIVE! To tell you frankly, they have helped her in exhibiting their false identity and she got to know what kind of people actually exist in this WORLD, and prepare herself to deal with such people further in her life.
New tenants of my lone body, started haunting the sole existence of my idiotic presence: I loved one of them, and despised the other, for one I owned and the other some shape unlike me. I named mine as she, and the other he, he tried to cast his shadow over her matured soul; she,being aware of her maverick victory got rid of the shadow which was domineering, sombre, lurking in the dark corner of her soul's silhouette.
My abandonment, a cause for his rhythmic retreat, profoundly validating the ultimate verity of the eternal existence of the supreme soul, renounced my body, And I felt my resilient, free, refined body again to myself.
The mind, ruminating over itself days together, asked me to be in a relationship with better humans with better thoughts:the worthy, the merciful, the much in need, the real, the genuine. How do I define them,inquired I. "The ones who would consider you to be their fellow beings, behold you to have the same feelings as they have, partake cognitive thoughts and ideas honest, if they be a confidant, then give a part of thyself than reckless time, make them feel the warmth of your love, care and concern. Shoo away the ones who comes to you for their benefits when they have time, to satisfy their envious selves. The ones who would never realise and recognise your abilities are your enemies." While she stopped, I retired realising the known definition yet again, for the innumerable time.
Before tossing what could be the possible future of education, better we give another thought to its present. I remember someone telling me very recently that the worst hit sector under the present situational challenge is the hospitality sector. While giving a second and continuous thought to that remark, I felt that the educational sector too is at par with the hospitality sector if that be the case. I have had questions when children irrespective of their performance got promoted to the nth level and everywhere you go, you could see the wrong ones in the right positions. There was a time when only the capable had places above and the careless and incapable had to maintain their position of status quo. In that fear of losing, they always tried to come up to perform adopting their own means.
The present education system has been so degrading that peerless wisdom, the overall ability and performance is not recognised, if there are some good figures on his marks card, then BINGO! Money plays a key role in today’s education. Education is analogous to a flight of stairs. While climbing, if you skip one stair, THUD! You might have seen many advertisements in media about colleges or institutions that is ready to launch students “DIRECTLY TO CLASS 12” . One and two and similar progressions are quintessential to reach twelve. Had they realised it! The idea of promoting the students irrespective of their quality has created a mess everywhere at least in India. Whatever could be the medium of education, unless it enables the student worthy enough to write sentences meaningful and grammatically well constructed, how can we expect them write paragraphs and essays at least in their answer script? The system has never made them walk straight without creeping. We were busy drawing boundaries to limit their thoughts. How many of the them were taught to think?
Some of them even become teachers with the necessary training cleared with a distinction. When they ‘contribute’ to the educational sector, the needy becomes virtually paralysed. Such generations being injected over so many years has upturned the entire system. Our students graduate and post graduate without the necessary academic, communication, and life skills. At least a few of them feel for their positions and try to excel in their own areas of interest. They need to, as the system doesn’t allow them to outwit itself. Along with facts, they are made to stand within the outline drawn by teachers with varying skills. It’s high time some among them should realise what the students need is seriousness in dealing the subject, sincerity without distinction and teachers who have quality.
Teachers who teach literature can certainly go beyond the spelling of the subject😆. Pretension of having mastery or translation expertise to the language they think the students can easily follow, will never have a stake in the minds of students in the long run. Even after having a hold over language and literature, if the teacher lacks seriousness and sincerity, students may not choose them over the best. All these remain limitations only when the students’ judgements are right. For good judgement, they need maturity and reasoning skill which again is the outcome of a good education. To teach, skill and depth in the subject is required, not wasted years of experience. I wonder why they themselves do not realise and analyse this and I wish at least somebody understood this! Students, at least a few, definitely understand better than some do.
With the quick adaptation of online mode of teaching, the only thread that existed between the students and the teacher has lost its sanctity. With educational institutions under a long shut down for fear of suspected spread of the disease, has again risked the imparting of quality based education, though on a base level. Whatever could be the percentage taught through online mode, it will have its implications on an average Indian student. While everyone cries for the adaptation of IT infrastructure, let’s also cry for quality. It’s not the coverage that matters, it’s the real number under coverage that actually matters.
When the present is so, how better could be our future? No, no, I am not against what you call progress. Just that I feel for the generation now and the generation next, which actually makes me feel bitten. Let’s progress with progressive thinking and quality based education. In this process we may have to add and subtract certain things and numerous faces, let us not feel for it. A better future is in store when the ones who are authorised realise this!
Erode, you, my dear most play mates, Stop hiding in the thick of my blood, allowing my little self die in the forceful under current, sweeping away all my dearest, subtlest and painful plateaus of love and sorrow. Dear inmate, the chamber you reside is my little home, where I made my mates sleep, swear I promised to wake them up when the world sleeps.
The restless movements you initiate vibrations, pricking in every inch of my mind, the sting inflicting my sane self. Dear occupant, show yourself to my mocking mates, come out to fix me up. Oh!my mind is tired of bearing the weight, still, I continue to hide it remembering that every thing has its own time, my time has not yet arrived, now it's almost my TIME TO PACK UP, from my world of responsibility. The inner soul of mine is shattered to such an extent that it yells for an ERUPTION!
The heart, alone and erect without sensing Followed the path of denial, discarding emotions in genuine and ephemeral, felt more in gusto and insensible. Is the heart true? 'They are not true, said the heart. Vows made earlier to many and one in particular wasn't kept, how's it going to be with you, you are no different, beauty is the matter of time, what defines you is your character, what remains with you is your attitude, what makes you different is the considerate nature, you have, the merciful feeling to your counterparts who more or less are the same. Why is that you distrust me?'
Leaned with burden, the heart started at me And I, with a shattered look, confessed, ' Oh, my lone asset, I follow your path But the mind of mine, who weeps for a faithful company tends to follow the other path, Whom should I support?' Pondering over my tiny mind, it said, 'Deny everything unreal, what remains with you is me in my true sense, beware of the rest.' Again, pulling myself up in my cosy emotions, I smiled, with a faded shade.