Nakul.

Ma’am, woh toh pagal hai. Uska dimag kharab hai - the first feedback I get about him from one of the teachers in the school. Everywhere I go, any conversation I have about him, this is all I get to hear. Uska dimag kharab hai, he is an abnormal child. Maushis, Kakas, teachers, staff. EVERYONE. They sometimes make the gesture of pointing their finger towards their head and twisting it when they see me struggling with him in class. I’d like to think they are trying to help me - make a pitiful face and tell me, it’s not your fault, it is his.

The psychology student in me cringes in pain, at first. I do what I can, ask them to speak politely about a child. But that is not the point. Whether or not I try to get all these people to be polite is secondary. The real battle is yet to begin. Inside my classroom.

He enters my class, two weeks after I have started teaching. Apparently, all this while the school has been allowing me to adjust and adapt. I wonder what’s the big deal. He comes up to me and with the widest grin, says, Good Afternoon Bhaiyaa. And at once, the whole of my class is tumbling down laughing. That is when I realize – this is the big deal.

After much thought, I consider my co-fellows’ suggestions, and discuss this in class. It is tricky terrain to walk on, I don’t want them to have sympathy and end up differentiating him. I only want them to empathise. To understand that he has different needs and that it is okay. They are 7 years old, and talking to them about this means putting my faith to test. It takes a long time, for me to get this clear in my head, even longer for them to understand what I am expecting off them. To start with, they stop laughing at him. He is now sitting among his classmates, something very new for him and for others. It’s been a month, and he still calls me Bhaiyaa sometimes. Until one day, when he walks upto me after school and says, ‘didi, ghar pe didi nahi hai.’

With instructions, the rest of my class has started to help him and help themselves. He still shouts incessantly and loves to draw. Publishing is his favourite part of the Writer’s Workshop. By now, he has two best friends in class, and loves them to the core. My class doesn’t laugh at him, but with him. I’m starting to think we are getting somewhere.

One day, during prayer, he jumps out in excitement and manages to push his best friend down the bench. The next day, I am called into the office and told that there has been a fracture and he may be held responsible for it. The next day still I am told he may be asked to leave school. The parent comes and screams at me for having her son sit next to ‘that boy’. A week later I am informed that he has been excused and that he can continue school, though this maybe his last year over here. He needs a special school, they tell me.

I need to keep telling my class time and again, reminding them to help him and each other. This is taking too much time, I think.

Orals begin. I ask my class to revise QUIETLY while I am taking orals. Except for I can hear Ekansh read the poems aloud. I look up, he is sitting with Nakul. Ekansh looks at me, “Didi, I tell Nakul, he learn.”

I call him over for his orals. Good Better Best, he starts. Good Better Best. Om comes over from behind and gives him the book, “See and read, Nakul. Yes, didi? Okay no.”

I smile. 36 tiny little seven year olds have restored my faith in humanity.

Twitch your nose. And laugh. Now

There is a sad sad song I just heard  and couldn't help but think about the many things in life that we take for granted. No, we don't do it deliberately, or do we?

When was the last time you hugged your mother? Or danced in the rain? When was the last time you bought your pet gifts? And laughed with your nose twitched at a cheesy joke? Or cooked for your best friends? When was the last time you remember remembering all these things?

When will we learn to value that which is ours, without focusing on acquiring that which is not ours? When will we learn when to be satisfied?

Don't you mistake me. I am not trying to establish dictatorship. AND, mind you, there are SO many things I take for granted myself. I am so used to, it had turned into an emotional construct. But I am trying to not. Before it is too late.

Go, curl up in your bed with a cup of hot coffee and a book by your side and listen to your favourite song and watch Kung Fu Panda later. And when it rains, don't forget to count the drops. Haha, dance, I mean.

Tiny little things.

Of late, I realise, I have stopped writing for myself. Like totally. I don't know whether I have been inhibited, or practically busy or both, it cannot be used as an excuse. And I'm sorry. So this, is my official comeback to blogging, for the time being at least. And I shall try to be as frequent and punctual as possible.

There is so much to start with. SO much.

The last years been super complicated. 2nd year. Phew! I scraped through and that's about it. But the best thing about your past is that it has passed. :D So, coming back to now, I'll just have to say Yay! I don't how much this makes sense but it is 4:03 in the dark and dirty morning and I am supposed to be free writing so please bear with me.

I watched Barfi! and laughed and cried along. It is incredible how tiny little things can bring sheer joy into your life. Tiny little things like a song. And something someone said. An  insignificant moment. A gift we remember from childhood. Tiny little things like characters in a movie. Jhilmil. :') 

I can't tell you how much I loved every bit of her. Every single bit.  

"Itni si hasi itni si khushi, itna sa tukda chand ka
Khwabon ke tinke se, chal banaye aashiyan..."

I tutor a group of autistic students as a part of my NSS, and there is SO much they add on to my life. 2 hours for one day each week becomes a lifetime for me. Tiny little nuances. Gaurav laughing out loud for no reason whatsoever. The mini heart attack you get when Yash approaches you with all his superman energy. Shubham's endless rants, Aditya's endless stories. How stomach aches are directly proportional to homework for Shivam. And Sahil's adrenaline rushes. And Amit's sudden bursts of artistic enthusiasm. And Priyanshu. His naughty smile followed by a puppy face. And his jooosh. How all of them unanimously turn to the window when they hear a plane pass. How playing ball means the world to all of us. How they can dance to the music I can't even listen to. 

Tiny little things. Like little drops of water.

P.S. - Thank you, wirewilltangle. My blog is alive again.

Break free

Crossing the line, didn't seem difficult. It was living on the other side, facing the reality which was hard. The truth was, that I didn't want to move on. I wanted to stay exactly where I was. But once on the other side, I realised, letting go of inhibitions was easier than I thought.

Moving on, I realised, was definitely a better option that getting used to the life I had been living.

I had to learn to take responsibilities. To take risks.

And when I broke through the wall of ignorance and convinience I had built around myself, I realised the other side was much better and brighter. I felt free.

I, had finally, learnt to live.

A Letter to the Future - Dear Chloe,.

*I wrote this for my Fresher's competition in LSR. This one's inspired by a post in Tejaswee rao's Blog - I.M.A.O.*

29th Sept, 2010


Dear Chloe,
Weird. Me writing to you even though I know someday I’m gunna read this out anyways.

I’ve always wanted to have you. For the last18 years and three days. Ever since I was born. Or, erm minus a month and three days because I probably wouldn’t have known then what it is like to have a pet dog of your own. =) But, Mum wouldn’t let me have you only.

People say you can’t talk to dogs, or rather bitches like in your case. I know I can. If I can talk to my 300-page dairy (which keeps running out of pages), for the last six years, I can talk to you too.

I plan to have you in six more years. Mum won’t have a problem then. At least she says so. Six years. It’s a target I have like those people in the investment and sales industry do. Get four customers in two days.

*Get a house. A good place to work in. A charm bracelet for my bestie. You.*

So, here you get to know who your future best friend is.

I’m eighteen. Just into college. Still overwhelmed about how I grew up so fast. (I turned into an adult just three days back!). And, out of home. And getting used to how to stay out of it. There’s no going back there again. Permanently. :/

I’m going through a very unexpected phase of life. So unexpected that I’m afraid it might change me a little. Others say it is good for me. I need to be changed. I don’t know.

Circumstances have made me insecure. Sometimes, I’m afraid if I’ll ever be able to have the pleasures of cuddling you. Of watching you sleep with you ear over my feet. Lapping up your milk and licking it on me with your teeny pink tongue. I know, you Beagles can be very cute. A neighbour had one too!

I’m afraid because I’ ve never really had what I’ve wanted. Not that I’m not happy with what I’ve got, but still.

I haven’t got THE badge of the head girl, I haven’t got to go to Columbia, I haven’t got an Honours , I haven’t got the boyfriend I wished I would. Christ! I didn’t even get NSS!
I don’t regret it. It’s just that I’ve been almost there and not had it.
I don’t want to have regrets with you.

I talk A LOT. And write. And take photographs all the time.
Along with you, I want a DSLR too. So that I can click amazing pictures of you and me together and store it in my Album- ‘Memories Forever’. =D

For your information, everyone calls me Pie. Not cutie-pie or sweety-pie or all that stuff. Just Pie. And, I love it. These days, I call myself Pie too. Although Nidhi ain’t all that bad a name.



I might not get everything in the future either but I know I’m gunna have you. And we’ll stay together in my house at Orange County where you’ll have plenty of people to play with, I promise.

I might not be the best person to take care of you. But then trust me, once yours ears get used to me, you’re gunna find it difficult to survive without me. :P

I’m very indecisive, so please don’t bother asking me about what to feed you. I’ll take you into the shop. Choose for yourself.

And, I’m not gunna put all those pinky-pinky dresses on you. I know you’re a bitch and everybody does that. But, No. I’m not everybody. You’ll have to stay my way. You adjust. I adjust.

I promise I’m not going to take you away from your mommy. I know how it feels to be far away. I’ll adopt you Chloe. And, I’ll take care of you like a mommy. Not literally of course. You know what I mean. ;)

Oh, you’ll love Sweta. She’s the one I stole your name from. She’s my best friend. And, she’s gunna be one frequent visitor. You might even get to stay with her. That’s what we planned. Both of us, you and two fish each. And Boyfriends. If needed.
Small Family. Happy Family.

Looking forward to amazing days with you.
Meet you in six years Chloe. If no one is gifting you to me, you are my ‘gifted-to-myself’ 24th birthday gift.
Until then, Lots of love,

Pie.

P. S. - I’m writing this letter for a competition. Yes. But, I’m gunna save a copy of it and make sure you listen to what all I have to say. In six years, I’m sure there’ll be much more to this. Cheers to us.

*Thanks Tejaswee. You're embedded in my memory forever. May your soul rest in peace.*