PURPLE RAIN

I open my eyes…there are horses all around me…

Horses who are running to win the race….

I am a puny individual with a fragile heart

…we all are waiting for the whistle to be blown

.,, We hear the whistle and we run …

We run into infinity, we run like maniacs,

We run beyond the eternal horizon…

We run and we are never out of breath…

We run from nothingness into nothingness   

Its raining from the heavens..

It wets me,

Its soaking me to my skin,

Yet I run on and on from nothingness

into nothingness

Through the night of purple rain

Anurupa

April 20,2012

CHARACTER CERTIFICATE

  

      

 As I stand here today only two-three days away from the declaration of my first board exam’s results, without putting on pseudo-courage, I say that like most other students my heart-beat has, in fact, accelerated. I am of the opinion that marks doesn’t count all that much .. at least it definitely does not serve as the yardstick to measure how good a person is!

 I am shocked every time a teacher takes a look at the report card and comments .. “ Oh! This person is an excellent student! “ How sad, people don’t care how many times that person has peeped into another person’s answer sheet! 1% of dishonesty in anything means that its not 100% honest .. be it academics, be it relationships- this seems to ring true everywhere. Has our morale, our value system drooped down so much ?Even the character certificate is based on the mark sheet!

More than anything else what’s worrying me and all my fellow students is peer pressure! What will happen if we don’t get this poarticular percentage? What will people say? It seems as if the mark sheet has really become the “ be all and end all” of our lives…before my boards a tutor told us that if we don’t do well for ICSE our confidence will drop to such a level that it will not be possible for us to regain that confidence ever! When my +2 began, Sister came and told us, “ Girls, even if you have not worked hard during class ten, if you work hard now you will really do well.” .. now that leaves me perplexed! … Like …what ??

Everybody is like – do keep me posted on your results .. and silently I say, I hope to be able to.

The last day before the summer vacation, at school during recess two of my friends and I went to have ice-cream, on our way back to the classroom the unavoidable topic of THE RESULTS came and one of us said super casually , “ Yaar result jo bhi ho, hum suicide nehi karenge”  ( Buddy, whatever be the result, we won’t commit suicide)

The next class was library and somehow after finding myself a quite corner I found myself reflecting on what my friend said. How true, I thought, things have taken such a shape, committing suicide for bad results and other trivial issues on the drop of the hat have become so obvious these days! What about strength of character? Why do I see it being crushed under social/ family/ peer pressure ? Why do people only look at the mark sheet to declare how a person is? Why can’t we think differently? Don’t know why people have this abstruse psychology which makes them look down upon humanities students and look at science students with not just approval but immense admiration! … Two-three days away from my result declaration questions of apparently odd shapes and sizes haunt me … yes I’m tensed, a bit stressed but more than that I’m confused! After all, even my character certificate is going to be a reflection of my mark sheet! Isn’t that the way the “system” works these days?

Anurupa,

May15,2012

HOW BORRRRRRRING!!@!!

                                                                        HOW BORRRRRRRING!!@!!

                                                                                         

 Every time I’ve begun writing something thinking that I am going to write something amazing, it turns out to be a disaster that I, before anybody else would like to discard and quite to the contrast, I’ve observed that each time I begin writing with simple words and clarity it has turned out to be a favourite of mine before anybody else’s.

This, when I sat down to reflect on to prevent myself from going to sleep during a health-talk at school, I observed is true for most things in our lives and life as a whole… somebody rightly said simplicity is elegance.                                                  

   In fact, small things make big things just as atoms can blow up the world, just as cancerous cells can make the end of a person, little things in life give us immense joy!

Music and friends like wine, people say gets better with years.

       Last Saturday, like most other teenagers I had engaged myself in one of the commonest works by “getting bored” ! So, if anybody had sent me a “what’s up ?” text message then I would have, like every other member of the herd said, “ Getting bored yaar”. On any other day I would have willingly continued “getting bored” , but that was not the case to be for I was fresh from an orientation by Father Rodney who had vehemently stressed on the ten letter word of SIMPLICITY !

The heat was taking its toll on us, I was sweating in the outstandingly humid weather of Calcutta like all my fellow calcuttans and of course I was “getting bored”. Turning on the computer, I wanted to listen to some music or watch some funny video on YouTube, but those incessant circling movement at the center of the video only added to the monotony and out of sheer disgust I turned off the PC to switch on the music system. I wanted to do some work other than “getting bored” while listening to some music …..

As I went about covering my just-received-stationeries I could almost visualize Aamir khan hanging from a tree branch as my humid study room was filled with the melody of Pehla nasha ….I was humming it to myself till suddenly the too-kind CESC decided to ruthlessly slaughter this melody that was most pleasingly knocking my ear drums which obviously was quite in contrast to ICSE knocking at the door!! The inverter had to be switched on and since nobody knew how long it would take for the power-cut to heal we had to save up on the battery charge ( when you are in Calcutta you are expected to have this wisdom up your sleeves) and so no electrical appliance other than fans! Just to “change the game” I took up Paulo Coelho’s “ Like the flowing river” …and kept reading till I was called for lunch and fortunately not much later than that the power-cut did after all heal ! Post-lunch my little heart, the size of my little fist wanted some little fun …reaching for the phone I dialed my friend, Rompi’s number ….

Window shopping is something which like most girls ( and guys too) I love indulging in! We were at the favourite South Calcutta market- Gariahat ….where you may get everything from steel safety-pins to super-trendy bags and if you’re lucky enough even tops or t-shirts! However for us accessories is the thing ! Shopping at Gariahat and not bargaining being a grand-daughter of a lady who has the record of walking into a fixed-price store and asking “ Dada, can you really not lower the price a bit?”!  is a real shame!  Rompi’s mother is far from being a laggard in this race, unlike mine! We both were determined to test the genes … but had to admit that we are definitely not over-achievers here for two bandanas that we bought at the reduced price of fifty rupees from eighty when we later heard of a friend who did manage to buy a similar one from Gariahat for twenty bucks ! Thank-god the depression caused by this friend came much later for that day it had filled our hearts with an immense sense of euphoria!

 Towards the evening the next door toddler was left to Ma’s care since the mother had to go to see the doctor in a not-so-close clinic! The child, when I came home was watching Tom n’ Jerry! I couldn’t refrain from sitting next to him to watch this outstanding programme! For all of you who are frowning at this, trust me I find it FANTASTIC !

Little things not just of adulthood but also of those times when we were little helps you to not get bored, of course if you’ll please stop sending text messages paying the least of heed to your aching thumb ! J

Anurupa,

April 24, 2012

Mukti(liberation) in captivity

30 July,2011,Saturday

                   Outside the big raindrops hit the window pane and made a thumping sound, inside, I put my wet cheeks to the glass pane; I watched the raindrops over the high tension wire, laughed when I saw the funny-looking wet crows. I also saw the next door toddler putting to the puddles his paper boats, which to say the least made me nostalgic.

From my table where my chemistry book lay I couldn’t resist running to the window, against the glass I put my cheeks. For a few moments I didn’t think of anything and let my mind go blank for a while. The FeS and conc. H2SO4 which were  supposed to be the only proud proprietor of all my attention, generously faded to make way for those floating clouds.After having inhaled the clouds for sometime through the glass window I rushed to my bookshelf,frantically searched for ‘her’-for Alice( in wonderland).You wouldn’t have had to push away any slight reluctance before announcing that I was dispossessed of my sanity if you saw me when I said –‘Alice,help me, take me to your wonderland ‘ and then having found it kiss it all over like a mother of a lost child who adores her child’s toys the same way.

The above was an excerpt from my journal. The next part is a bit personal and so I chose not to put it up here for everybody to read.

That day I kept reading Caroll’s creative,liberating piece of amazing literary work and was drifted to that underground wonderland with Alice taking me by my hand, my mind, my soul, my body-liberating me. Just like we have exothermic chemical reactions which liberates heat Alice and her wonderland reacted to give me liberation.The beautiful dream song soon came to a close but left me feeling good.I remember last dancing in the rain  five years back when I was ten.That feeling came back,the same desire to run up the stairs to the attic, dance like crazy in the rain.The desire was so strong and my soul so immune to those thoughts that said to it – Don’t waste time, you have a deadline to meet,STUDY; you have to keep ypurself fit and healthy,don’t go in the rain,you’ll catch cold;you are fifteen,no more a child – what about your larger-than-life-dreams that keep you alive? what about your ICSE ? what if people see you dancing that way-what will they think –what will they say?.To all these “inhibitions” my immune soul could only say,”Who cares?”Yes, in the attic I laughed,I cried,I danced and whirled,I ran, I kicked in the air and behaved crazy because I could only say “ who cares!?”. When I looked down at the streets from the top of my house I could see the boys,some of my age and some a little older with their pants rolled up,juggling the football in the muck.After three minutes I found myself there in the street and when the football kissed my nude toes,the feeling to kick it was too overpowering to resist.However,I was ready to initiate the process of contemplation when the Alice inside me kicked the ball with my feet rather forcefully.

There went the ball to touch Ratul’s feet who before kicking it threw a welcome grin at me and tossed away his slippers and the others followed suit.I could feel those awe-struck glances following me,my feet and the football.Those collective ‘ish’s were too loud to be inaudible every time my clothes,my feet,or my hands got muck enveloped.I must say,I enjoyed every moment of it,even those abundant abhorrence nourished glances. A lot of people go in for those feel-good spas to de- stress themselves but the “mucky spa” along with the thumping raindrops’ aqua therapy did me more good than the expensive spas and therapies available at a variety of spa parlours.Though it didn’t leave my skin,my hair looking smooth and silky rather with some bruises, it definitely left me healthy looking and more importantly healthy feeling.The smell of the wet earth and the muck refreshed me to my heart.

Often people talk about the GeNext girls’ way of chilling with booze and boys,I chilled-Yes,but with muck and pals(who were boys).

At home there was nobody except for the maid-servant who having made me a lunch of “khichudi” and “bhajis” couldn’t refrain from embracing this opportunity to snore away in the damp,dark afternoon.Having washed myself and had the steaming “khichudi” I took the camera and clicked photographs of the rains.To me it was too good an evening to talk about the rains in my facebook status or go on chatting aimlessly for hours with people online over a cup of coffee.It was a day I presented to myself with the best of regards.

It would be wrong if I say that I let my hair down that day or I was lost for I wasn’t lost.That day I only got back that essential bit of me which I had misplaced in the process of acquiring knowledge from books or better making an effort to make my mark sheet boast of marks not less than 85%.My childhood,my much needed innocence –I got all of it back.

I should like to say that it was a dream date with my buried desires, with myself,with the real me inside me – a gorgeous date whose effect won’t be forgotten in a hurry.

Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated.  ~Confucius

August 7 ,2011

Anurupa