TERRORISTAN OR HINDUSTAN?
In the recent past, names of many cities like Bombay ,Bangalore, Madras have been changed to Mumbai, Bengaluru, Chennai, etc. What if it hits a nation? What if this trend continues and Hindustan changes to Terroristan? Scary! But, in the light of the recent events, it seems to present a picture of reality. India has had a series of terrorist attacks and far from lessening, they seem to be increasing in number.Terrorism has been described as both a tactic and a strategy; a crime and a holy obligation; a warranted reaction to coercion and an unpardonable massacre. However, it is something that has to be wiped out.

India has seen many scenes of terrorism in the last few months, be it the bomb blasts in Delhi and Bengaluru or the current siege that started off as a shootout in Mumbai that has become something of a nightmare not only to Mumbaikars, but also to thousands around the globe. It is said that one often learns from past mistakes and blunders. Have we though? The government adopts a holier than thou attitude and says that they are doing everything in their power to vanquish the aiding and abetting of terrorism. But are they? The only efforts that are being taken are to increase their bank balance and to criticize epical names and denounce Hindu religious practices that have been in existence since even before the critic himself.

Previously, a terrorist was considered to have an extremely clichéd description of a scary looking person with a long beard and a mustache and probably a few scars across his face with scary, cold eyes, devoid of humane emotions and filled with cruelty. Yes, often, even harmless people who fitted this description were looked upon as terrorists and many times, it actually turned out to be a case of mistaken identity. Talking about mistaken identities, imagine this scene :
A young boy, probably either still in college or fresh out of college, well dressed with branded clothes, a branded satchel , clean shaven, well groomed, quite suave, looking like he’s out on a vacation, enjoying his time off at a hotel. There’s a bomb blast or a shootout. Thousands of people die and one happens to survive though, by any stretch of imagination he doesn‘t deserve to. The survivor is the attacker- the very same young man with the appearance of a college going teen. What can we call it now? World leaders condemn terrorist attacks. Government condemns the terrorist attacks. They feign sympathy, tut-tut away in what they think is a supposedly sympathetic manner and offer their condolences and perhaps money in return for their loss to the members of the dead families. Promises are made to take a stand against further terrorist attacks by the government but, promises of course are meant to be broken and the government has justified this!

‘’England cricket team calls off tour,
Terrorists strike Mumbai- 101 dead, 250 hurt,
6 foreigners killed in Mumbai blasts,
World leaders condemn terror attacks.’’
It was indeed unnerving to see a series of headlines being flashed incessantly on the news in this regard. It jolts us back to the nasty and harsh reality, brings us out of our reverie as to what we are going through. Yesterday Delhi, today Mumbai. Tomorrow - the World? This reminds us of the frightening fact that the future is indeed extremely bleak. The air is wrought with fright and tension. As part of the people that live in this world, we do deserve a sense of security.

This is our country. More importantly, this is our world. Keeping this in mind, the responsibility to protect, nourish and caress this world is also ours. Whether Hindustan remains Hindustan or changes to Terroristan, only time can tell.

TABLET TRIBULATIONS
Tick tock, tick, tock…. Time was ticking away, louder than ever.. I stared at my left hand and then at my right, back and forth, back and forth, as though I was in the process of getting hypnotized by the hypnotizer’s magic charm. I stared down at both my hands long and hard. I shuddered when I saw that nasty, red, oblong monster staring right back at me- it was blood red and did little to nullify the mounting trepidation and misgivings that had been gnawing my insides for the last three quarters of an hour. Every time my hand went towards my mouth, my mind did not cooperate and every time my mind cooperated, my hands did not.

My mind kept telling me ‘’consume that red monster and end it all. It is the quickest way to end that unpleasant thing that has caused your throat to become parched, your head to make you feel as though a few hundred men are hammering away its insides, the only way to stop your eyes from burning as though on fire, the only way to end all the pain and torment.’’ Even as my mind instructed me in almost firm, sergeant like tones, my hand simply would not oblige. My mouth twitched, my hands gave away and my jaw trembled violently on seeing that little red monster lying in the close of my palm, almost leering at me, as though aware of its impact on my irresolute, ever changing mind.

The last time I had been in this state, I had tried to make myself feel better, end all unpleasantries… and then, I had chickened out completely. It had become almost suicidal ; I had gagged, choked, coughed, come close to asphyxiation and then realized for a wee, microscopic moment that I was too young to suffer so much and had escaped from the suffocating clutches of the evil, red, one.

Today, it was déjà vu all over again and I was back to staring at it in reverence that can be evoked only out of sheer fright. Time was flying by. It was now or never. I had to do it at some point in the near future, which meant, pronto. So, I braved myself, told myself that I could do it, looked skywards, praying to the gods(so much for self encouragement… !!). I looked down at my hand for a final time, threw my head back, popped the little monster into my mouth, and emptied the can(yes, the huge one) of water into my mouth. I retched, I choked, but finally, …. Yesss, I had managed to defeat the enemy. I swallowed little more water (about another galleon or so) and sat down to savor my triumph over the evil one.

Ahh, the tribulations that can be caused by a common cold curing capsule, to a person who, after almost 19 years on this exalted earth, still hasn’t managed to master the art of consuming them!!!!

P.S. : I would like to thank a certain Mr.P whose narration of a particular incident inspired this article . :)

DOWN MEMORY LANE OF A PSBBian

Another year whizzes by. It is without doubt, a year to remember, a year that has left a great and lasting impact on me for more reasons than one. A year with reminiscences that I will cherish for eternity. It is a year that marks the beginning of a great end- my school life.

Even as I am penning this article, my mind takes me down memory lane, way back to my PRE.KG days where I found myself in what I had heard people call ‘shool’ (the way I had pronounced ‘School‘ as a three year old). It was a year of fun and frolic, playing in the mud pit, occasionally learning ABCs, getting out of stuff I didn’t want to do by smiling sweetly at my class teacher… LKG was pretty much the same and the teacher who taught me , Mrs. Girija Dilip is someone I can never forget - she used to be this ever smiling angel(still is) who would make you feel all warm and nice inside… even the worst brats(like Moi for instance ) would want to do anything she wanted them to.

Before I knew it I was in third grade- that was when I discovered my love hate relationship with Mathematics (I scored a 98 in it and lost the coveted centum due to an addition mistake; something my best friend Sruthi and I still laugh over.) At a later stage however, it turned into an all hate relationship. In grade four, I discovered a beautiful subject- Sanskrit. The subject and I go back a long way . It was taught by a teacher for whom I have immense respect. Yes, Mrs. Girija Krishnamurthy made Sanskrit interesting and logical- so interesting that even now, despite being in my first year of college, I am still studying it, not out of compulsion but out of sheer love for the language. Middle school came and I thought it was the coolest, most ‘grown up’ part of life…. How wrong I was… life got worse ‘cos, it was at this juncture that I realized that math and biology were vying with each other for top rank in my hate list of subjects…..

I remember the day I made it to Main School…. I remember entering its portals on the very first day of my Ninth standard and feeling unexplainably excited- here was a place which would ensure that I had my quota of fun. Four years in PSBB Main has indeed made me a better person in various aspects. I fell in love with English- I choose to see it as something more than just a subject . Writing became my passion. English classes were the only classes I looked forward to in my 11th and 12th stds. Taught by my favourite teacher Mrs.Viji Raman, my love for the subject increased manifold. She had a way of teaching the subject in a manner that would ensure learning, without the pupil even realizing it. English classes in my 11th and 12th meant fun combined with learning. She is one of the main reasons why I miss Main school so much(pun intended). Well, this school had its flip sides too, I fell prey to math and accountancy- two subjects which showed absolutely no mercy on me. I have passed my 12th standard, but for the life of me, I still cannot understand and unfold the intricacies of geometry or the demystifying and elusive accountancy with its numerous balance sheets with columns of assets and liabilities that never did tally for me even once; no, not even in my board exam!!!

TRRRRINGGG!!!! The phone rings, and I am startled out of my reverie. I wake up to the reality that school life as I knew it is over. I am now a college going teen. I feel a little empty and lost inside but I go back to reminisce about it and I feel a lot better.

School was and still is something special to me. It made me believe that the world was a comfortable place where everyone and everything would be easy going and fun loving. Well, so much for that. The real world, well, is a lot different… take it with a pinch of salt.

SAVE THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE !!!

English is a beautiful language and it looks like some people are absolute sadists- they utterly cannot stand to see a beautiful thing last forever. Baffled??? Read on to comprehend.

There was a time when speaking perfect English and employing perfect grammar had other people staring enviously at the speaker, wishing desperately that they were at least half as good as the person speaking. Now however, it is a different story altogether. Try speaking perfect English or correcting someone using incorrect grammar and the response one will elicit is ‘’Stop showing off dude.’’ Sadly, in this modern and sophisticated era when people break a tooth or/and nail in their campaign to achieve perfection in every field, a person employing sophisticated and perfect grammar is seen as a persona non grata.

Bad English hangs around our necks like a dead albatross. The abominations inflicted by the person ‘supposedly speaking English’ upon the listener are too many to keep track of. The other day, I was enjoying my rare evening walk, taking in the sounds and sights of the place after which I made my way to the ice-cream parlor. I was enjoying my ice cream and taking in its sugary sweetness when I heard the shopkeeper tell the customer that the cost of the ice cream was ‘tolve’- meaning twelve rupees. On observing for a short period, I noticed that 95% of the people I came across pronounced ‘twelve’ as ‘tolve’ and worse, no one found it to be wrong at all. What is it with people these days? At the going rate, there might well be amendments made in the Thesaurus, replacing ‘twelve’ with ‘tolve.’

Another way of killing the English language is by using literal translation. In Tamil, people say ‘ leave podaren’ - some people very nonchalantly convert it to ‘put leave’ instead of saying ‘taking the day/week/month off’. Same is the case with ‘late panran’ which has been translated to ‘he made late’ instead of saying ‘he delayed someone.’ Its a good thing that William Shakespeare died when he did. If he were to be alive now, he would have killed the people butchering the English language and would have been condemned to death - a very undignified way to die .

One more thing which drives me up the wall is the practice of adding an ‘a’ to a word thereby adding a Tamil touch to it. For instance - ‘’Sachin outta?’’ (is Sachin out?) or ’’had fooda??’’(had food?) . I mean, is it really hard to say three easy words rather than omit one of them and ruin English grammar like never before?? It looks like people are caught in this never ending competition where they praise and glorify the person who kills the English language the most .

The bottom line - it is NOT fashionable to speak bad grammar. Bad grammar is out, flawless and faultless grammar which does not cause shock attacks to 2 out of 40 people (the number of people who probably speak relatively decent grammar) is the in thing.

P.S. : IF YOU THINK YOU CAN COVER UP FOR YOUR BAD USAGE OF THE LANGUAGE BY EMPLOYING A PATHETIC IMITATION OF THE AMERICAN ACCENT, YOU CAN THINK AGAIN.

THE IDIOT BOX LIVES UP TO ITS NAME.

It was a Friday evening. I was enjoying the free time I had after a long time. It was a particularly enjoyable evening because I was aware of the fact that I could just laze around for the rest of the night, not caring two hoots about homework as the blissful weekend was around the corner where, all I had to do was ‘do nothing.’ I let myself slowly slip away into the vast expanse of nothingness and maybe a small nap when….
‘‘ SELVI,SELVI,SELVI’’ I jumped nearly 4 ft in the air. It was the idiot box blaring on top of its wires, and needless to say it was SUN TV with one of its soaps that had been rude enough to jolt me out of my skin. Annoyed, but at the same time a little intrigued, I moved myself to the couch in the most undignified manner (crawling b’cos I was too lazy to use my legs to their full extent) in the hall and sat down to watch it. Of course, I didn’t know till then that it was sheer retribution to do so because I had rarely watched TV, let alone soap operas as I was a huge fan of reading and it kept me occupied most of the time. I guess it was a quirk of fate and it just wasn’t in my kismet to spend my leisure time productively ’doing nothing’ b’cos, it was a Tamil soap opera that was running on the idiot box.

This is the scene that went on (including a recap of the previous day‘s episode) : mother and father ganging up on the daughter, forcing her to marry the groom they had chosen for her. It is imperative that she marries him because he is rich and they are poor. It really doesn’t matter that the man is already married and has enough wives who could share all his wealth and still have enough left for a few more women. The girl of course is a person of principles and she doesn’t believe in marrying someone just because they are rich. It could have also been that she was in love with another guy- I lost track of the whole thing after awhile. The ‘negotiating’ then turns into an argument where the father suffers a heart attack and is rushed to the hospital. He is almost at death’s door when the daughter very nobly agrees to marry the man her parents choose and , voila! Miracles never cease- the father recovers almost immediately and even goes back to his cigarette smoking, beer drinking ways. That was all I could handle- I left the place , with my head swimming. Does the plot sound boringly familiar to you? It should. You would have probably seen the same plot in a hundred different yet same soaps. By the time the story is into its fiftieth episode you can't remember what the plot was and/or how it started.

It was then I guessed that this was the general theme for most…no, the general theme for all soap operas .

Time has lapsed since SELVI is done and over with (after about a few hundred re-runs on different channels, dubbed in every other vernacular language one could come across ) and has been replaced by a bunch of new ones much to my dismay. Arasi and others are the ’new’ ones, just a few hundred episodes old. They all follow a fairly similar plot...and you get the feeling that even if the characters were interchanged, it wouldn't make any difference whatsoever.

The Hindi ones are no better. They all start with girls being married to men from respectable communities, gal loves husband, husband loves gal, mother-in-law is jealous that son is supposedly paying more attention to his wife(if the mum is so desperate, why even get the son married?) and results in Mother -in-law being cruel to daughter in law who in turn runs off to her parental house. These Hindi ones sound too much like the Tamil ones. Only difference is that the houses and clothes and the abundant jewellery of the people in the Hindi soaps are made up of richer stuff, the mother- in -law is ‘Saas’ instead of ’Athai’ and the absence of a poor father, drowning himself in smoke(or beer, whichever is convenient) .

Tennyson said in his poem Brook ’Men may come and men may go, but I go on forever.’ Whether this is true of a brook or not, It is definitely true of soaps.
‘Generations may come and generations may go, But soaps go on forever.’
Like the title says, the Idiot box has and will continue to live up to its name.

SVR AND PAVI- TWO OF THE BEST FRIENDS I COULD EVER HAVE

At the age of six, we met in grade one, clueless perhaps that we would probably remain best friends over the next twelve years and more to come. I remember the first day I saw her. I thought she was a tomboy in the making until I saw her cry like the typical girl that she was :) . Before I knew it, we had soon become thick friends, thicker than one could ever envisage. Sruthi’s practically family- it would be unfair to put it any other way. And indeed, she is known by more than half my family. I tell mom that Sruthi’s coming home and pat comes the reply ‘’I’ll cook fried rice for lunch, she loves it.’’ That’s how closely related she is to me and my family.

Over the years, we have shared lots of things in common- our love for sanskrit, having fun at girija ma’am’s house during bhagawadh gita classes, us knowing each other more than anybody else could possibly know of us, crazy about books, hanging out together with our other very close friend pavithra, raiding oxford, going to the beach, pigging out at cakes ’n’ bakes(her favorite place) and the chaat corner at Spencer’s Daily(my favorite place) … the list is endless.

In all these years, we never once thought of the grim prospect of studying in different places after our 12th- it was something that just did not cross our minds. Until, one sordid day, pavi and I came to know that Sruthi would be leaving for sastra in tanjore for further studies. Today was that fated day .Pavi and I went to the station to see her off … it is unimaginable to think that this lass wil be gone for 4 years. Hard to think of it too. Here’s a small poem which popped up when I thought of her :).


Paramount friends we always are ,
Best friends we'll always be,
For eternity and evermore,
You and Moi!

Longer than the shortest sms,
Deeper than the deepest ocean,
All the fun we’ve ever had,
You and moi.

Till life goes on,
We go on too, till the very end.
Friends may come and friends may go
But we’ll remain close forever.

It does feel bad to think that one of my close friends will be gone for a long time. But then again, life goes on. Pavi and I miss you, SVR. Better get back here soon :).

enTRANCE Examinations
I have jus finished my entrance exams and have been admitted into the college I wanted. Having come out of all these entrance exams unscathed(luckily), it is only fair that I dedicate a small(a very small) part of my blog to it.

Cometh the beginning of April and it's that time of the year again when all students (except those, gifted few who fall into the unsavory category of nerds and geniuses) across the country are tearing the hair out of their heads, frantically(also read frenetically, hysterically and anxiously) preparing for various entrance examinations. These white papered, pencil shading exams are looked upon as more terrifying than the board exams as they can ’make or mar your future’ if you happen to mess ’em up.

For those of you people out there who are cogitating over where you can spend your holidays after your boards, save yourself the trouble. The end of your board exams marks the beginning of a new period of torture with more sleepless nights and increased hair fall due to the building tension- the enTRANCE exams. The board exams are really not the end, especially for those in the 12th stds, they are just the beginning. The board exam fever soon gives way to entrance exam fever where all thoughts of holidays are soon forgotten. Students across the globe, especially those belonging to the science streams will attempt a few HUNDRED entrance exams in order to make it to ONE of the top institutes for their higher education.

Attempting entrance examinations is a Herculean task . It is a period in which students have to brush up their basic vocabulary, as they have forgotten the existence of words like ‘fun’, ‘easy’, ‘leisure’, etc. They(exams) require sizeable efforts by the already jaded and weary students.
The training for the entrance exams encompasses 10 hours of studying at the various coaching centers, another 5 hours at home in the morning, 3 hours in the evening, a few hours of traveling to these classes and a big hole in the pocket, as the coaching fee for these exams are definitely not small sums.

Once D-Day arrives and the exams are over, fun time still doesn’t arrive cos the results are yet to be announced and this in turn entails a nerve wracking period for us poor students who have reached the end of our tether. The long wait is a period of intense turmoil and anxiety for the students . After the results are announced, counseling begins ,and after the counseling ….the wait never ends….

There was a time when entrance exams did hold value and were of some use as they segregated the best students form the mediocre ones . Now however, entrance exams in most places have become a farce as , students who have not done well still pay lakhs of money and somehow manage to get into the coveted institutions despite pathetic and abominable grades.

As Chetan Bhagat says, exams are the reasons that may have led to the decline in the number of trees due to the increased usage of paper. So, why not do away with them?? You may agree to it, and so will I, but what about others?(the teaching community)

However, once you get into the college of your choice, the burden of these exams are forgotten in the sweet goings-on of college life. But don’t forget it completely as you know what you have been through to get into your dream college.So, the next time someone condescendingly says ‘’ah, entrance exams are a cakewalk long as you prepare for them’’ feel free to stick you tongue out at them and say’ brraacck .’ It is definitely not rude :) .

RANGANATHAN STREET
A few weeks ago, my aunt had come down from the USA after 8 long years. Being an energetic person with a penchant for shopping, she asked my mother to accompany her. The duo set off to ranganathan street. A couple of hours and 3 aspirins later my mom and an extremely weary aunt devoid of energy came back home. On making inquiries, I learnt that they had been to ranganathan street. No wonder my aunt looked so frazzled. She had entered the portals of Ranganathan street, t.nagar!!

Since time immemorial, it has been thronged by people, dogs, cats, people, malls, retail outlets, people, small offices, and more people, clichéd though it may sound.
Some call it the perfect haven for shopaholics. Some term it the dingiest and most inhabited place on this phase of the earth. I, for one, believe in calling it ranganathan street, t.nagar, Chennai 17.

We often hear lovers dramatically proclaiming that they would travel to any part of the earth to get goodies which will make their soon-to-be partners giddy with ecstasy. Not needed. All they have to do is to enter into ranganathan street and they’d find every kind of gift ranging cheap from five rupee earrings to extravagant Rs.5000 dresses and more.

One cannot drive through the place without wishing for a broomstick like the ones in the Harry Potter series.’ I seriously wonder whether even the broomstick with the rider hovering several feet in the air, would survive the continuous throng of people who dominate the area and the plethora of things it has to offer.

Another fact that is synonymous with Ranganathan street is the ruckus and cacophony of the small time hawkers and vendors who walk the by-lanes of this street and it is of little wonder that the E.N.T specialists are laughing all the way to the bank.

The area seems to be well equipped with a highly well organized network of secret undercover agents with efficient ’homo sapien’ detectors in and around the vicinity, which seem to attack any driver with a vengeance. Surreal though it may seem, the moment the administrative body gets wind of the fact that a motor vehicle is rolling in a carelessly effortless manner, they make the shoppers walk even more carelessly along the same path of the vehicle and right there, on the middle of the road, meet long lost friends and new acquaintances even to the extent of them forgetting the main purpose of their visit- shopping. The auto drivers make it the order of the day to hone their already well polished bargaining skills and woe betide any newcomer in the city who unknowingly ends up in their midst. The ultimate result is that, the poor car driver is invariably left cursing fluently under his breath for the next few hours or even worse- till as long as it takes him to draw up enough energy to overcome the never ending flow of humanity that dominate the streets of t.nagar.

If you are one who doesn’t believe in being a spendthrift, then, you're looking for, Ranganathan Street which sells you everything- from 'pirated’ VCDs' to pirated books, fashionable hand-me-downs, gold, gold plated and…………..the list never seems to end.
‘LEISURE” and ‘RANGANATHAN STREET’ are two words that cannot possibly be used in the same sentence.
A few hundred million years ago would have probably been the best time to actually think of a shopping spree here. In fact, ranganathan street has given a whole new meaning to the word ’crowded.’

To put it in a nutshell, if you ever get bored, drop into Ranganathan street and see your boredom vanish along with every ounce of energy you possess. Experience the ultimate shopping experience and see your energy levels go from 10 to 0 in just a second. Nonetheless, trust me, it’s definitely worth it.

IT'S NOT THE MONEY,IT IS THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING!!

Below, is an sms that was circulated among my peers a few days before the 12th board exams results were announced. Having received the same sms from about fifteen odd friends of mine made me more interested in the message and has culminated in this article.

New exam pattern by the government:
FC: answer all the questions
BC: answer any 5 out of 20 questions
MBC: answer any question you like
SC: 'read only' questions
ST: thanks for coming.

Education of late, has become more of a ‘business deal, especially in this modern era. The covenant goes thus: Marks are not a measure of man’s intelligence. So, an individual who pays 20 lakhs for a Rs.20,000 merit seat has a better chance of getting it, as opposed to a person who has scored 99.99%. I may sound mordant, even acerbic. But that’s how the truth is- extremely acerbic.

What is with people these days?? We have reached a state when we pay more importance to money rather than veracity and principles. The government has brought about a few drastic changes, making life better for various sections of the society, especially the backward classes. Nothing to write home about. The question however is, how many of these allegedly ‘deserving people’ actually deserve and merit the seats they get in various colleges? At first, I didn’t take much notice of this razzmatazz . I had to go to one of the colleges to take up an entrance exam for my admission into the literature group- a group which has fascinated me since time immemorial . The invigilator in charge asked us to ‘give’ our attendance and a voice quipped ‘’if I give it (attendance) to you, what will I do without it?’’(I am not joking, this horrifying incident actually took place!!) .I was shocked and for the first time in my life at a loss for words.(no, I wasn‘t neurasthetic, just plain shocked.) Here was a girl who didn’t have a clue about English and there she was, writing the admission test for the literature group. The next day, the results were out and this girl actually made it into the college with her coveted group. Yes, she had desired the group and had got it too. But did she in actuality deserve it? These things are not common to one group alone. Such incidents are also commonly associated with the medicine and engineering seats as well.

Bizarre though it may seem, people with top marks are not granted admission into a few colleges for the simple fact that these students ‘lack recommendations by influential people.’(I can almost picture that look of incredulity on all your faces…). A commonly asked query is why recommendation when the student has scored top results?? That sadly, is a question to which we may never know the answer. The government has made life easier for the backward sections of society by raising the number of seats for them in various institutions. There are a few of these people who actually work hard and get into these institutions despite being from the backward sections of the society. But, what about the rest? The SMS at the beginning of this article should give people a fair idea as to what we are actually headed for.

Einstein once said ‘The value of a man should be seen in what he gives and not in what he is able to receive.’ Indeed, the more the amount of money given, better are the chances of a person receiving a ticket to their’ dream college’ , irrespective of the marks obtained. But Einstein sure did not mean it this way!!
When Darwin said ‘survival of the fittest’ he for one wild moment wouldn’t have thought that people would have taken it in the sense that more the bucks they pay, better the seats. Sadly, that is what people are doing. They have forgotten what conscience, values and integrity are . These words have been unceremoniously replaced by words like’ money, big bucks, bribes etc.’ ‘Honesty is the best policy’ has been shown the door and has been replaced with phrases like ‘money talks honey’ and their ugly likes. Money seems to be ubiquitous, but what about our values and principles? Money seems to have lost its values along with education. Unfortunately, ‘values’ seem to have lost their value too- a very sad state of affairs.

Like I said, ‘it’s not the money. It’s the principle of the thing.

IF JUNE COMES, CAN MISERY BE FAR BEHIND???
Is june as bad as it seems?? Read on to find out.

It is 11:00 AM in the morning, I am still in bed, deliberating on whether or not it is early enough for me to wake up, or just escape the harsh realities of life and go back to sleep. Now that I have woken up, it is hard. Basking lazily in the vast expanse of oblivion, I am rudely interrupted by the sight I see on my calendar. My stomach starts to churn, my face becomes clammy and I break into a sweat that has nothing to do with fever. You may ask why. It is the last week of my vacation. As may slips away into june, I will be in college- a world of ragging , teasing and definitely fun, though after a very long time of the former aspects, the protected world of school where 12th graders ruled the roost, quite forgotten.

The thought of June fills me with dread. Apart from the worry of how I would cope in an entirely new vicinity called ‘COLLEGE,’ a part of me also realizes that my two month long period of fun encompassing hours of aimlessly lolling around are about to screech to an abrupt and unceremonious halt. The inexorability and the unavoidability of June strikes me as inopportune and unjust. Being a commerce student, going to college feels like going back to school as it starts in june. Fie on Juno, the Roman goddess. But for her, june would have been omitted from our almanac- undeniably no great loss as far as the student population is concerned.

Gone are the afternoons when aimlessly watching the idiot box or hanging out with friends had a smile emanating from our lips, the worries of studies for the interim, forgotten in the sweet and indolent moments of pure fun and frolic . Then cometh, the start of college.

The first week of college is always a nerve wracking one as you are uneasily aware of the fact that you are no longer the senior most . In a way, it is surprising as, you fall from the pedestal of being one of the oldest in school to being the most bullied lot when you enter the portals of college for the first time within just a matter of two months.

Apart from combating the merciless ragging in college, it also dawns on us that the faculty too are a different set from the ones we faced at school. A myriad of thoughts will engulf us regarding the new set of teachers who are to teach us. Finding out the distinctiveness of different teachers is usually the most daunting of tasks. There are the friendly ones who always have a sweet smile on their lips, ever ready to hand out pleasant advice to the students and have a demeanor that is extremely pleasing, thereby endearing themselves to even the spoiled brats in college . Then of course, there is always the stricter, albeit kind hearted variety, with a stiff upper lip and not a hair out of place. They are the teachers who belong to the genre of making even the bullies and dadas of any college quail with fear. Woe betide any student who misbehaves, and they are sure to be caught in the vortex of a storm, thus confirming the strictness levels in a teacher.

As time lapses we eventually manage to settle down in our respective colleges . We are soon caught in the never ending web of time. The next summer vacations seem far, far away. True, vacation time will soon come again, along with another new batch of juniors who will face the same apprehensions we faced . We will cease to be the bullied lot, soon looked-up to by our juniors.
After all, as Percy Shelley puts it in his beautiful poem ‘Ode To The West Wind,’
‘if winter comes, can spring be far behind?’

FAIR WEATHER FRIENDS
'The kind of friends you ought to avoid at all costs if you don’t want to end up bankrupt.'

1) GENEROUS SPENDERS :

They generously spend YOUR money.
When we have generous spenders as friends in our midst, beware. It’s ironic how the word GENEROUS can sound so ominous.
‘Generous’ spenders are those who are unbelievably generous- with your food, with your clothing, with your belongings… and when you go out to restaurants with them, they are at their generous best- generously offer food to people and eat well themselves, and finally turn to you and say, ‘hey mate, I’m low on cash. Could you pay up, for old times sake?’Like I said, beware of ‘generous’ spenders or bewail later.

2) ‘LOO’ny ARTISTS:

LOO’ny ARTISTS don’t have any control over their bowels. The minute they sense a bill coming their direction, they just have to dash off to the loo at all costs, even if they are cleanliness freaks who can’t bear smelly loos and the loo at the restaurant stinks like hell.

3) ‘I’LL DEFINITELY PAY YOU BACK LATER- in 30-or-so-years- friends :

These are friends who have zero credit worthiness- you are doomed to irrecoverable bad debts if you have such people for friends. If by chance you happen to be a person who often goes abroad, you are on your way to a zero bank balance if you have such friends in your midst. For instance:
Hey, I heard you are going to the US of A soon. Could you get me the diamond crusted pen from there? It’s only around Rs.20000. No formalities between us. Will pay you back sometime.
STATUTORY WARNING: The ‘SOMETIME‘, like tomorrow, never comes

4) FRIENDS WITH SELECTIVE AMNESIA:
These are friends who remember every single thing- right from the red dress you own which they like and like to borrow from you, what you ate for breakfast last Friday, what they ate for breakfast last Wednesday, the swear words Mrs.Next Door used on the butcher due to his delay etc,etc,
I know, there is no sign of any kind of amnesia here. But watch out now.
You are at a posh restaurant, you have had your fill with your friends. You turn to ask him to pay his share of he bill and pat comes the reply : ‘Dude, can you pay for me as well, I forget to bring my wallet’
The underlined words here are ‘FORGOT’ and ‘WALLET’ They will remember everything in this world except their wallets.
Next time you are saddled with such friends, make sure you too have selective amnesia. In simpler terms you address him/her thus:
‘hey, do I know you?’

ABBREVIATIONS ARE FUN TOO!!!!

(A) FOR PHONE BRANDS AND CONNECTIONS:
1) NOKIA , Connecting people : NO Kommunication In Asia.
2) IDEA : Idiotically Described and Expressed Abominations
3) BSNL : Busy Server, No Line
4) HUTCH : Halting, Unruly Talk time and Communicative Hindrances.
5) RELIANCE : RELI on A Nonsensical Communication system for Eternity.

(B) SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES:
(1) IIT : Institute of Inexplicable Torture
(2) IIM : Institute Of Incessant Misery
(3) NLS : National Lawless System
(4) NALSAR: Neurotic Asylum for Law with Standard Asylum Rates.

(C) OTHERS :
(1) FBI : Feckless Bureau of Investigation
(2) CBI : Corrupt Bureau of Idiots.
3) CBSE : Central Board for Screwed up Education

MINI TSUNAMIS- A TERROR INDEED!!
When most days in a disorganized person’s life are disastrous, one normal day can give the person involved, a feeling of impending doom. That is the lesson fate advocated to me on the eve of 27th feb,2008, a Wednesday- a truly unforgettable day in my life. My day surprisingly started off well. I made it into the living room in the morning without walking into the wall even once , albeit, I was in a sleep deprived state. There was even water left in my tap, considering that I had sauntered into the toilet at 11.30 a.m. and reside in an apartment with the most irritating bunch of early birds one could ever combat.

After gobbling down the sumptuous meal set before me, I sat down to study(yes, study. My board exams were just around the corner). It would be optimistic to the point of foolishness to suggest that I would still be whiling away my precious yet extremely boring study hols even at this juncture. As 12.30 became 5.30, I decided that I had studied long enough (with just a few dozen breaks in between), when the phone rang. It was a friend. She too had thought along the same lines as I had. A lengthy conversation ensued in which we were catching up on how life would be after the board exams, how we could let our hair down at college, what Mrs. Next Door was doing and so on. A good one hour later, when the conversation had finally ended (admittedly after both our mothers had screamed themselves hoarse with many threats of having the phone disconnected), i went back to the hall to put the phone back in its place of honor.

The sight that met my eyes chilled me completely (and I mean, literally chilled me). I was standing in the midst of a mini tsunami- the hall was flooded with water. The bedroom was no better. Little waves of water were forming every time the water came in contact with the wall. It was a catastrophe!! Willing myself not to loose my wits, though not succeeding at it, I located the source of our mini lagoon. The tube connecting the washing machine to the wash area had broken loose, and the horrendous result-a hall with a dirty, soapy, tsunamic scenario. Cursing eloquently under my breath, I helped my mother clean up the watery mess. The servant maid too had absconded to add to my disgust. By the time I was finished, bones which I didn’t know existed in my body were screaming for mercy. The hall resembled the ‘AKSHAYAPATRA’ from the Mahabharata which would give food and water until everyone had had their fill and it was asked to stop. Only, in the case of the hall, the water flow didn’t come close to stopping let alone slowing down.

After what seemed like years(it might have been several hours), I finally had the courage to put my leg on the floor. The water had finally dried up- every inch of it. I heaved a sigh of relief and flopped onto bed.

To this day, even a small puddle of water in any part of my house greatly alarms me and has me wiping it dry with a vengeance until I am quite reassured that no mini tsunami would reappear in any part of my house.

INDLISH
- JYOTI SANYAL

'Heyyyyyy. Enna doing??'
Picture a scene where two people greet each other in the above manner. Does this seem vaguely familiar? This is 'TAMLISH" or TAMIL+ENGLISH- the English spoken by typical Chennai-ites. English in fact, has diversified into HINDLISH(Hindi+English), BANGLISH(Bengali+ English), so on and so forth. Ironic though it may seem, the English that we speak vastly differs from the English that we write. This sadly is a truth, unknown to and ignored by many.

English is in fact, a very mutilated language and the way some people speak English in this modern era would make William Shakespeare turn in his grave. For instance, 'BOMB BLAST' is often pronounced by many as 'BUM BLAST' (pardon the obscenity). Jokes apart- this is really a matter of grave concern. English has become the anathema of many people considering the fact that they are out to do away with good English.

INDLISH by Jyoti Sanyal is indeed ‘A Book For Every English Speaking Indian.' English as it is , is a very clichéd language and we have now reached a stage where clichés have become the order of the day. This book by Jyoti Sanyal written in a quirky and humorous manner may be the only saving grace to put an end to this pathetic situation.

Often, people hover under the delusion that verbose, high flown and bombastic English is impressive. On reading this book, one will find that it may be impressive but only because it is completely obscure to the person at the other end of the conversation who may think that you are speaking a foreign language that is unknown to them. There are times when people continue to use wrong grammar without even batting an eyelid. I have come across people who very nonchalantly say ''I repeat again, this is not the solution to the problem‘' - the 'AGAIN’ in the sentence is absolutely unnecessary. With the Electronic and Print media often inflicting such atrocities on us, it is indeed fortunate that we have this book in our midst.

Indlish is an eye opener to every English speaking Indian and also acts as a guide to journalists. This book is very easy to follow as it contains many anecdotes, cartoons and guidelines presented in a very concise and comical manner.

This book may not be one of your typical Jeffrey Archers or Robin Cooks, nevertheless it is an extremely, funny, witty and well written book. Get your hands on a copy of Indlish and don’t be biased. You will definitely find that this book is not as bad as it seems to be. Happy reading.

INFOTAINMENT- COMICS INDEED!!!!!
Picture this scene. It is very common to teens around the globe (at least, most teens, I am not talking about over conscientious students who study for at least 23 hours a day and crib that they haven‘t studied enough). It is the morn of your dreaded exam and being a typical teenager you have not yet covered your syllabus completely. With great difficulty, you get up from the bed which sensuously seems to beckon you as if aware of your sleep deprived state. You are finally awake(or so you think) and start another cramming session in the wee hours of dawn. .
You start studying, only to realize that you're too sleepy to read anything even remotely connected to academics which only seem to intensify the soporific effect on an already sleepy you. As you head to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, you chance a glance at one of the comic books lying around. You need something to keep you awake at least long enough to get part of the horror you have for the exam into your head. You start leafing through the pages of the comic book. You start feeling less like a zombie, you feel more wide awake. You are finally ready to take on the dull drab which threatened to overwhelm you mere minutes ago with renewed vigor. After a healthy dose of laughter, you are ready to face those dreary textbooks again. Kudos to the Comics. We all love them.

As this fast paced era of technology advances, teens in general forget one very important thing- reading. It is a compelling truth that grows by the nanosecond.
The startling aspect that haunts modern life, more startling than the imaginary blood covered hands that haunted Lady Macbeth is that, people do not consider reading as something necessary in this modern era. However it‘s not too late. There is hope for this dark situation, a beacon of hope, a ray of light(I am not exaggerating)- COMICS

It is a general assumption that comic books are for children and do not serve any purpose other than rotting people’s minds. This is a fact very far from the truth. Compelling covers, clear dialogues, purposeful layouts and the colorful pages characterize a comic book. These are what comics are and what more than millions of people around the world devour. They are entertaining, informative, humorous and penetrating.

Comics are a living phenomena . They are books with a purpose I.e. is to deliver a good story with colorful sketches that brings the reader immense joy and in some way help them identify themselves along with the characters . Indeed, every clumsy teen can relate to loveable, accident prone Archie Andrews of Riverdale, every glutton to Jughead a.k.a Forsythe. P. Jones, every narcissist to Reggie Mantle, every teen can and does appreciate the rib tickling humor of Asterix and Calvin and Hobbes.

Apart from providing us a good laugh, comics are extremely informative. For instance, a story in one of the Archie comics deal with euphemisms - use of less offensive words or phrases to convey something. It would definitely be easier to learn about euphemisms from a colorful comic strip which is less verbose rather than learning about them from dull, monotonous, brown covered texts. Not only does the reader learn the use of euphemisms, but will also feel interested to probe more into the subject.- to put it in a nutshell, Comics do help in gaining knowledge. So, for those elders who think comics are a waste of time, think again. Do not judge a comic by its cover. Try it out and you will definitely agree that they are not as bad as you think.

PICTURE PERFECT
Bizarre though it may seem, despite being a girl and that too a teenager, I have never been enamored by any of the cosmetics and girlish fancies unlike my contemporaries. So, an announcement over the intercom at school saying that all class 12 students would have their group photographs taken in the following hours had me stunned. The room which had been teeming with my classmates, jabbering away incessantly till then, was empty even before you could complete the phrase ‘‘group photograph.’’
There was a mad rush at all school bags, and combs of various shapes and sizes along with various tubes of cleansing lotions made their way into people’s pockets.

Even an announcement from the principal in the morning, asking us to come on time to the school assembly could not have elicited such a spontaneous reaction from any student.

I was the only one left in the room, still getting over the shock of a suddenly empty classroom. Deserted by even my closest of friends, I was still pondering over where the mob had disappeared to. I decided that the restroom would be the best place to look for them. My hunch was not in vain. I was definitely not disappointed.

The place where you normally go to empty your bowels indeed had multiple uses- something I learned very fast I.e. , the moment I peeked in to the restroom.
The mirrors which once upon a time showed a person’s reflection, had many other people staring out of them in various poses. There was a hooligan like rush for the two mirrors in the toilet . Students were painting their lips, washing their face in a mad frenzy as though they hadn’t taken a bath in days. Some people’s face was contorted with the effort of ensuring that their eye brows still remained perfectly shaped . Heaven forbid if even a hair on the head was out of place. Combs would be taken out of the pockets and the tresses would be redone yet again for the hundredth time (or maybe for the two hundredth, but who‘s counting??).The normally foul smelling restroom was completely transformed. It was as though a perfume factory had erupted in there.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, my friends, after debating that two hours in the loo was more than enough, started making their way back to class.

For me, it was indeed a weird yet new experience, shocking yet enjoyable. I now know why people smile when they are complemented on being picture perfect than when they are complemented on a perfect math score. The effort involved is definitely more . This would indeed be a memory I would cherish every time I look at my class photograph though i had not been a complete part or rather, even a miniscule part of the behind-the-scenes activities!!!

Classics Are Not Boring
Most people are under the impression that classics are boring and that’s just the beginning. In fact, when people are questioned about classics, you can be sure to be greeted with blank, ‘what-the-heck-are-you-talking-about????’ looks. Every time you read a classic, you see more in yourself than in the book. Classics aren’t the ending of a reading session; they are the beginning of a self introspection- they have characters you can relate to.

Classics are a unique genre of books which contain varied elements unlike other books that deal with one exclusive concept(adventure, philosophy, etc). Classics are a melting pot of various ideas- the thrill of a mystery, the intrigue of a murder, the passion involved in a romance, etc. Critics of classics either lack the fine tune or temperament for some of them, or criticize them just for the sake of doing so. A ‘classic’ example of family love is the ‘Little Women’ series by Louisa May Alcott, or the Anne of the Green Gable series by L.M.Montgomery. For those with a passion for pure adventure, ‘The Count Of Monte Cristoe’ by Alexandre Dumas fits the bill.

Travel to the Victorian times or get a passport to the future. In short, break the jinx. Get your hands on a classic and don’t be biased. You’ll definitely find out that classics are not as bad as they are made out to be.

Plagiarism- Copyright Crisis or Global Challenge.
Challenges are varied in nature, ranging from small ones that may bruise our ego a bit to larger ones that may affect us at a much higher level. One of these challenges is ‘COPYING’ a. k. a. plagiarism. Derived from the Latin word ‘PLAGIARE’ which means ‘to kidnap,’ plagiarism literally means ‘to kidnap’ or copy someone else’s idea and pass it off as their own.

Clichéd though it may sound, credit is often not given where credit is due- indeed a negative outcome of plagiarism. When people come across news items about people who get into trouble over plagiarism, they shake their heads and walk away ‘tut-tutting’ in a disagreeable manner. They don’t realize that they themselves might have plagiarized something and are blissfully unaware of the consequences that they may have to face. Many a time, plagiarism of scientific works result in political animosity and stagnant development. Plagiarism kills imaginative reasoning, leads to loss of intellectual credibility and destabilizes creative minds. Endless arguments on who deserves the credit overshadows the real issue that ought to be addressed.

Most of us are familiar with the Kaavya Viswanathan fiasco. The eighteen year old Harvard student has become notoriously well known due to her book ‘How Opal Mehta got kissed, got wild and got a life, which has many parts copied verbatim from novels by Megan McCafferty such as ‘SLOPPY FIRSTS and SECOND HELPING. The poor girl has been defamed to such an extent that one could write a story on her life- How Kaavya Viswanathan Plagiarized, Got Rich , and Fell flat on her face.
Fast emerging as one of the major globally sensitive issues of the world, plagiarism should definitely be nipped in the bud.

‘Bored’ Exam Blues
Picture this agonizing scene. You see a gaggle of school kids, bunched up together in small groups outside the exam hall- some grimacing, some staring blankly into space, some almost tearing the hair out of their heads because the solution to the darned math problem is playing truant, stubbornly refusing to make contact with the jaded teen’s mind and yet others doing the perfect balancing act, juggling three out of the five notebooks, trying to cram in the last few minutes- indeed a shoo-in for any of the famous circuses in the city.

It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that it's that dreaded time of the year, that time of the year which seems to be never ending and which unfortunately ‘makes or mar your future’ as elders have the knack of putting it. EXAM TIME. I can vividly recall incidents of my own tenth standard days which makes me shudder even now. It was as though the whole world knew that I was going to sit for my public exam on the customary march second(the date normally set for the commencement of std.10 exams). All the social events I attended that year were nothing short of certified disasters. When people came to know that I was in the tenth standard, I would be greeted with horrified ‘oh-my-god-she’s-in-the-tenth-standard-and she’s-actually-partying-five-months-before-the-exam- ’ looks. I mean, do tenth and twelfth standard students sprout horns or something before the bored exams (pun intended). In the olden days, if the marks scored were low, people would find comfort in the old adage ‘Marks are not the measure of man’s intelligence.’ Now however, it is a conveniently forgotten fact. If ‘MARXISM’ belonged to the past, then, the present generation’s trend is ‘MARK’ism- ‘do so well that people cannot find any flaws in your paper’- indeed a Herculean feat that is next to impossible. The competition in these exams have rocketed to such high levels that, preparations for these exams have to be started at a very early stage.

(STATUTORY WARNING: Preparing children, below the age of five for these exams is not advisable to those adults who have extremely sensitive ears and do not wish to render themselves deaf. Not all children like to study science, math and environmental studies, when they are busy studying their elders‘ mannerisms , trying to see how best they can make them toe the line).

The end of March clearly indicates freedom- the reference of course is being made to the ‘bored’ exams, during which the students let their hair down and continue to do so until, two years later, it is unfortunately déjà vu all over again as far as tenth graders are concerned. For the twelfth however, it is a different story altogether.