Late Realizations

Two decades back,achievements were like addictive drugs.Conquering rank positions in school,sweeping prizes in sports and cultural,gleaming with pride during family get together,enjoying the green-eyed looks of fellow classmates were few important facets of my life until I turned 18.

Last weekend,I was exploring my school trunk.My Mom has preserved my notebooks and answer sheets.She still has the diary in which I had written the alphabets for the first time in my life.When I opened the bag containing my certificates,I was happy for no reason.But my smile faded the moment I started analyzing each certificate.There was a story behind every prize I had won.

My certificates are the only proof to make the world believe that once upon a time,I was a good athlete.Once during the Sports Day,one of my classmates was suffering from her periods.Like everybody,she wanted to win the events at any cost.She had brought a tablet to the school stop her periods but she lacked the guts to consume it.An hour before the meet,she pulled me to the corner and asked me for the opinion.With my 8th std wisdom,I warned her not to have the tablet.Like expected,she couldn’t sprint well and lost the event.When I clean swept the athlete events,I was too happy that I didn’t notice her.Next day,in school she told me that she would have won those events if she had had the tablet.She blamed me for stopping her from taking the medicine.But I was blind in the joy of success and felt that she was jealous of me.Lately,when I found her in Facebook,I realized that she has still not gotten over the incident.What  bothers me is that why did she ask for my advice?I was not close to her,I was not in her squad,I was not her classmate and I was her opponent.Why did she ask me?I am still not sure whether what I did then was correct.Who knows,may be those bunch of certificates would have been in her trunk and those winning moments would have been hers if I had encouraged her to take the pill.

Once during the cultural festival,for group dance I had to make a choice between two of my juniors.A group dance is a dance performed by seven members and I was in the process of hunting for the last slot.One girl was my friend’s sister-cum-family friend and the other one was just another junior.My friend’s sister was too tall for the position in the formation of the dance,so I picked the other one.The dance went on to become a cult of the season and became a huge success eventually performing on several stages.One day,the father of the junior,who was my family friend,came to me and asked for the reason to reject his daughter for the dance.I explained him the reason.He was unhappy about my logic and stormed out saying his daughter was a good dancer.His daughter was indeed a good dancer but if I had taken her in then,my team would need a drastic rejig.Couple of years after this incident during a family function,my junior confessed to me that  how much she craved to do that dance.Today I see solutions for it,I could have made some other girl rested for one performance and would have given a chance to my junior.But what to do,my 14-year-old brain didn’t work well then.

I realized the bitter taste of failure when it came as a flock in my life.At times,I was destined to touch the soul of failure during the college days.In college,when I got my first arrear,I realized what failure is.I realized how people feel when they fail in exams.When the world’s software giant threw me out of the internship program because of my unattractive marks ,I understood what dejection and rejection are.Four years in college taught me how it is to be on the uglier side of the coin.

Slowly,I realized that life is full of surprises,both pleasant and unplesant.When I look back each milestone which I passed is of no much importance to me today.But those milestones were indeed wonderful moments of life.The joyous cheer after winning the championship,the gang hug after breaking the ribbon at the finishing point,the proud smiles while posing  for the pictures with trophies,the thunderous applause while walking on to the stage,the encouraging pats after the exam results,the salty tears during the failures,the heavy heart and the headache to deal with,the tremendous pressure we cry out on other’s shoulders,the consoling kisses and hugs,the happy faces and smiles which stays for seconds or minutes and many more…

It took two decades for me to understand that Life is NOT a matter of MILESTONES but of MOMENTS.

At times,we need those grey shades too…

Bits & Pieces

Again this topic or the matter for this post came up during a chat with Priya..I think for many of my posts, the starting point or the urge to write on that topic will be always provided by her..Since she is one soul who just doesn’t mind listening to all my stories, whether it is crap or sensible, she will listen to it without even a single an opposition comment.

So the topic for today’s post got clicked when I realized that my memory is too sharp.I was telling her stories about my primary classes.

After reading this post, if you could comment your memories about the same, it will GREAT.

The memories of the lessons that I studied in my primary classes are still my favorites.

I think it was in 2nd std(CBSE) that I studied about Kutchu’s Glasses.I remember, that year the English textbook had the stories of Kutchu, his wife Kamala(I’m not very sure about the name), his son Ramu and his daughter Sita.Among the chapters, my favorite was Kutchu’s Glasses.The story was about he searching for his glasses everywhere in the house and finally realizing that it was on his nose when he saw himself in the mirror.

Then in 6th std, in the Communicative English Text Book, there was a story named Pret in the House.The story tells about the pranks of a naughty Pret who will shift its living from the Peepal tree to the bungalow when the Peepal tree was cut down by the Municipality. It was a funny story.

Never Trust a Lady was one of the chapters in 7th std- English textbook. Once this chapter was over, my class guys used to shout it out as a slogan “never trust a woman”. It was a story of a high-class thief who robs rich people. He robs only once in a year. The stolen money was for buying the latest books that are getting released every year.Once, while stealing, he will see the woman of the house coming to the room.As she had to take a necklace from the locker and had forgotten the locker number, these two will get into a deal that she will not inform police if he could open the locker for her.But, next he was caught by the Police as they found his fingerprints around the locker as he had removed the gloves while lighting a cigarette for her.Only then he would realize that he was cheated by the woman.

There was a story about an old couple who fights over the husband’s habit.The husband was addicted to buying books, that too books with golden leather cover.He doesn’t have the habit of reading the books but he just loves to see all his books beautifully kept on his shelf.The old woman was too tired of cleaning and dusting the books. One day, out of frustration, she threw away the new pack of books he had bought the day before. When was back from his daily stroll, she showed him a letter which she found in one of the books. He ran out of the house to the garbage bin after seeing the letter. He was actually searching for the envelope of the letter. When he finds the envelope, he would jump out of joy. The envelope had a stamp which was the only one in the world apart from another person. Finally, they sold the stamp in an auction and bought a new house. In the house, the wife made sure that there is a big room to keep his favorite books and she decided not to fight with him ever on his “books-buying” habit.

NB: Kindly let me know if any of you have the textbook of Kutchu and his family.I would love to buy it.

Sunday Nights & Monday Blues

Monday Blues!!

It is like a melancholy breeze that pats us from Sunday morning, then turns into a merciless hurricane by the end of the day and strangles us on Monday morning making us feel sick in the stomach.

Everybody must have fallen into the trenches of Monday blues at least once in their life.

During school days, Sunday nights were more terrible than Monday mornings. From nowhere, a strange pain always patted my heart while making my school bag ready with the Monday’s timetable. This pain often gave me weird ideas for not going to the school the next day. Though prayers and offerings, for the infamous viral attacks, were made before sleeping ,those days God was busy listening to the prayers of others 😦

On Sunday nights , I used to give my best shot to love my school. (Though I loved my school, it was hard to do so on Sunday nights ;))

Transmission of my prayers to God for stomach ache and fever happened for every five minutes; also for heavy rains with thunder if it’s rainy season.

There is a strange fact that I have noticed about the consequences of my ‘sincere’ prayers. During the rainy season, it rained cats and dogs at the night.This gave me peaceful nights thinking that the next day Kerala Government will declare a holiday due to the heavy rains. But the next morning when I wake up cheerfully, I could see the Mother Nature happier than me being bright and sunny.Now I am left with no choice other than bothering God with the usual set of prayers and then slunk to the bathroom with towel and toothbrush.

Today when I look back to those days, I blush thinking about the situations when I used to complain about the ‘Monday-Special’ sickness. Even after knowing my pranks, my parents never made complaints. But they did complain when I self-proclaimed to be a matured woman. They told me how difficult it was to control the snickering laugh when I tried to put on my innocent face and squeezed my stomach with illusionary pain. Parents revealed how they avoided not laughing at me. I hurriedly searched for a hideout when my Mom declared that very often,after listening to my whining, she used to run to my Dad and then cachinnate till she had a stomach ache.

Even after years, I still get a pain in my heart on Sunday nights, but at least I stopped bothering God because now there is nobody to whom I can show my drama. 😛

So here comes, another series of Monday Blues… 🙂


Do you remember our 3rd STD and 4th STD classes, when we had to mug up spellings,synonyms and antonyms?Do you remember those classes where it was a daily ritual of dictations or question-answer rounds?

Those days, I learned the British language,especially the spellings, by looking at the advertisements seen in the TV or the writings on the shop boards.

I was a quick learner but the dyslexia (our Taare Zameen Par disease ) always made me fall into pits.Then one day, during the question – answer ritual, I had to tell the antonym of “ordinary”.

As usual, my mind searched the shop name database and the results came out as null pointer error.Then I searched the TV advertisement database.Wow got it!!!

For example, Ad of Lifebuoy Soap.Look at your body after taking bath with ordinary soap, germs still remaining.Now look at your body after taking bath in Lifebuoy Soap.NO germs.

Oops!!!That doesn’t have the antonym of ordinary.

Then I checked Lux Soap…in vain.

I searched in the Detergents Ad database.But again ordinary detergent and Surf Excel or ordinary washing soap and RIN washing soap.

God!!!What will I do now??

My throat went as dry as Sahara Desert.The whole class was thinking hard.The girl sitting next to me was giving me weird looks because if I don’t answer then ,of course, she is the one next in the queue.

“I’m Sorry Mam, I don’t know!!”

Talking about the Mam, it was her first class after joining our school.So I was more scared thinking about the impression,the bad impression,she was going to have about me.

She walked up to me.Then turned to the class and told that as it was her first class she doesn’t want to punish anybody.

…the antonym of “ordinary” is


I was relieved when she didn’t punish me.

“Thank you,Mam”

PS : She didn’t have bad impression about me through out the year.Dyou know why???

I made sure to score 100 marks in English that year(Tensions of a 3rd Std kid 😦 )

A related piece of memory..

We had “spelling time” daily for five minutes.Teacher will pick somebody and she will tell us to write the word on the black board.I thought it was my day when teacher asked me to write “vegetables” on the board.I was very confident because I have seen “Bhaskara Vegetable Shop” on my way to school..Very confidently with my head up, I walked up to the blackboard and wrote on the board.Mam asked me like Amitabh Bachan’s KBC whether I am confident or not.

No confusions at all..”Yes,Mam,I am confident”.She walked towards me and held my shoulders and with pride and happiness,I kept my head even higher.But then I saw her bangled hands reaching below my shoulders and her red-nail-polished nails made a deep impression on my hands.

Phew!!!I got a pinch on my right shoulder.

ouchhhh 😦

I couldn’t make out what went wrong as she didn’t tell the correct spelling too.

Then on my way back home,I checked the board of the vegetable shop..It was written

Bhaskara “Vegeatable” Shop

Now whom should I blame for the pinch??? 😦 😦 😦

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