Sari Sorrows

The Sari clad woman is the epitome of feminine grace and beauty. Poets over the ages have waxed eloquent about the absolute loveliness of a lass in a sari. Little do those fanciful fellows know….Behind the velvet softness of the sari-ed woman there lies an iron endurance and incredible skill.

Actually I can’t blame them. At one point I was actually one of their idealistic league. (Judge me not, ye harsh ones!) My folly was nurtured by my own mother- who could transform a pile of cloth into a perfectly draped sari within minutes. Could I be blamed for supposing this common place?

Well… the illusion was shattered soon enough.

Stranded without Amma the Sari Super- woman, I was faced with the task of tying a sari for a function by myself. Piece of cake? Think again.

Before leaving home, I had done the smartest thing and asked Mother dearest for a total instruction manual of sari-wearing. But no one warned me about the practical difficulties!! The sari-which looked harmless enough when folded neatly – turned out to be a cloth Charybdis! Unfurled to its unending length, it gave me images of Draupadi and the sea of cloth! “Well,” I thought “let’s face this like a man…er… woman.”

And thus began a battle of lengthy proportions (literally). The funny thing about the sari is that when one thing is finally settled the other thing-that was previously ok-decides to become undone. The greatest killer though, is the pleats! When done with expertise, the pallu (that’s the part that I prefer to call the tail of the sari) hangs in a graceful, straight, silken cascade. When I was finished with it…well the nicest way to put it was that, it definitely did hang…only like squashed handkerchief. And then of course there are the front pleats. It’s supposed to fall in a nice straight fan that flatters the figure (or at least gives one the semblance of owning a figure). The nicest thing to be said of mine was that it did not fall…off.

But all said and done, my sari did have one outstanding feature. I had created a scientific miracle- A gravity defying Sari!!!(Thank you! Thank you! I’d like to dedicate this honor to the several hundreds of safety pins that helped me in my endeavor). Sure, it appeared to be a little…er… lumpy, and a little…er… elevated… But hey! The effort mattered!

At least that’s what I thought.

“Hey boss…I think you’ve tied your sari wrong side out...”

AAAAAAARRRGH!!!!!!!

The next time you see a woman wearing a perfect sari, recognize it for what it is- a badge of endurance, patience, skill and unbelievable dexterity.

‘Frailty thy name is woman’?

Hah!

Tears of a Tree

 Hear me-I'm the Tree!

And I sing of Nature & Irony.

I sing of tenderness

In the bark of a Tree

Of Cruel Fates and Reality.

Look at me!

Observe my stance.

My arms wide open,

I hide Nothing.

Yet you ignore the tears in my Bark.

You are blind to the Truth you see.

I have in my core

A twin Torment

That circles around itself.

Ireconcilable,

Unable to rest,

Within this tortured Tree.

See here- my roots

That kiss the Earth.

Drinking Her tears when She cries.

See here- our bond

Like the umbilical cord,

Without Her there is no Tree.

But see also- my brown arms

That stretch towards the Sky.

Straining against my solid trunk

To sip the Sun's golden wine-

The life blood of the Tree.

The Earth pulls me down.

The Sun pulls me up.

I'm caught in this Tug of War.

And Nature laughs

In full-throated glee

At the plight of a torn Tree.

Oh soil! Oh Sun!

Two halves of my troubled heart-

Can't you see?!

If you tear at each other

You tear apart this Tree!

You are different-I know.

I KNOW.

That is an undeniable truth...

But I know this too

That no matter how different,

Neither can I let go.

The Invisible Man

When God wants to punish you, He answers your prayers.

The wailing of the ambulance could not shut out the screaming of his heart. All around him people buzzed in activity. But he saw only her. Just her.

He remembered the first time he'd seen her. It was at curb.In that orange salwar, her hair standing out in cloudy uncontrollable wisps around her face. She'd kept unconsciously pushing it off her cheek. He'd thought she was pretty. That's all. Just pretty. But then, she'd smiled. It was like some sort of Super nova blasting in his eyes. It wasn't merely the beauty of it, it was the life in it. Like the delicate, dramatic beauty of a blooming flower.
And then, she left.

He forgot her. Didn't think of her. Until a month later, he saw her again. Somewhere.He couldn't remember. Still the same-A small thing, a figure far from perfect, with a smile that spoke the language of humanity. He'd seen her talking to someone. She spoke as much with her face and hands as with her lips. She had fire and grace.Like a dancing flame. Something, unexplainable.
And then, she left.

He couldn't forget her.But he couldn't do anything about it.He didn't know anything about her. And she didn't know he existed. But perhaps, serendipity is reality. He saw her again. This time, he actually saw her face. She'd turned to someone in his direction. He'd thought there could be nothing more beautiful than her smile, until he saw her eyes.
And then, she left.

He couldn't get her out of his mind. Everything reminded him of her. The sunshine was her smile. The nights were her eyes.He yearned to see her again, touch her, talk to her-Just once.Prayed for it.

And it happened.

It was late evening. The auto she was traveling by had stopped at the curb. The same curb. The driver had stepped out for change when the truck skidded and rammed into the vehicle.

He had run to her. He had managed to pull her out of the auto. Somebody near him was calling the emergency number. The white of her dress was stained red with her blood. Her brilliant eyes were shut in pain. He could see now that her hair was actually a dark brown. And her skin was not really perfect. But she was with him. He held her closer for a moment, jerking a cry of pain from her.
"Don't worry help is on the way" he said. For a moment he worried whether she knew English.
"Thank you." he heard the faint reply. Her voice was young and fresh like the life that was flowing out of her. "Someone should inform my parents . My phone is in my bag." She was growing paler.
"Where is that ambulance!" his panic seeped into his voice.He felt a soft touch on his arm.
"Don't worry." she said " I'll be fine." And she smiled that heart breaking smile. "Don't cry."
She smiled.

And then, she left.

Turkey Travails

Every Christmas, my mother is faced with a huge problem. Literally and figuratively. My father's effervenscent gourmet friends lovingly and regularly present us with a large turkey the size of Australia. This wouldn't really be a problem if my mother knew what to do with it. As wide as my mother's culinary expertise is, the turkey is beyond her. Whether she curries it or fries it or even puts it in biryani, the result still falls short of that Elysium of "yummy".
Well, this time she was ready for the battle.
As always the turkey made it's solid presence felt in the freezer by the 23rd and amma had recruited excellent reinforcements. Jalaja Aunty. Second in command to Amma, she was the one who executed. Where Amma was the Crusoe, Jalaja was the Friday. The battle was set- the women vs the turkey.The dynamic duo confered.
BANG BANG BANG!!!!
This brought the family into the kitchen-to find Jalaja aunty fearlessly battering the monstrous unyielding turkey into pieces. Chunks. Parts?
The result of the bloody tug of war between tendons and tenacity, was a triumph of human spirit. The turkey was chopped up!
But what to do with it?
Another heated discussion.The decision was to boil some of the pieces, then shred the meat and add it to either soup, rice or make sandwich filling out of it. The very fact that my mother was going to such complicated ends to get rid of the thing reflected her desperation.
They boiled it and they shredded it.At this crucial juncture, Amma lost her trusted ally to the forces of getting-back-home. Now it was just her and the turkey.
She put all her skills to it. She painstakingly cooked the meat with varied spices, added lemon and pepper and God knows what to it. She'd have done Sanjeev Kapoor proud.
Finally the end result arrived at the table. She waited with bated breath for the consensus.

"Amma...why is it slightly sweet?"

The treacherous turkey had done it again. Maybe it was the taste. Maybe it was the sheer quantity.But the turkey became leftovers.And Amma beat her breast in frustration. But the gleam of stubborn determination shines in her eyes. She WILL rid her kitchen of the foul fowl! The question is how?.....I guess it's bird watching time at the table.

Playground Politics-A slide show

You know it's true what they say- The youth are the polticians of the future.

It is evident when a person steps into the teeming mix of primary school kids. When they are through bawling their heads off and pulling braids, their acumen for politics is astounding!The social hierarchy and intricate webs constructed by these young minds would put our "established" biggies to shame.

Observe, a general conversation between two kids.
"Sandra,you're a bad girl."
(social ostrasisation)
"No No!"
"Yes, you are a bad girl!"
"But why am I a bad girl?"
"Because you are Ammu's friend!"
( groupism and strained allegiances)
"But you are also Ammu's friend."
"I'm friends with her only when she is here."
(Backstabbing- traits of a great politician)
"If you want to be my friend you shouldn't be her friend."
(Sandra considers.Two can play at back stabbing)
"Ok, I'll be your friend."
"So you'll be katti with Ammu?"
"Yes."
"Say it to Kezzie also."
(In the kiddie circles, reconfirmation to a close compatriot is equivalent to evidence in print. Of course the close compatriot can change sides.But that is not important.)

"Kezzie, I'm not friends with Ammu."

"Ok."

"Come on lets play house."

Such promising political skills in ones so young,should allay all doubts as to where the nation is heading. It all gets spoiled when we the elders start bringing in stupid notions of loyalty, integrity and all that hogwash. But I guess we right the wrongs when we expose these "filtered" children to our hypocrisy and The World News.

A Generation Awakens.

my Animal( grrrowl)

You're a Dragon!

Noble, regal, and highly misunderstood, you're a bit of a loner at
heart. You like caves, the sky, and other vast expanses of air where you can blow
off steam. You and people like you got a lot more respect in the old days, but now
your type only shows up in songs about young children. They're the only people who
really believe in your potential. As long as you believe in yourself, and don't
breathe directly at anyone, you'll be okay. You have a strange liking for string and
sealing-wax.


Take the Animal Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Hope

Hope

The silken string

Which holds together

The beads ofAspirations,

Dreams,

Desires..

The single thread of that hapless Arachnid,

Swaying in the cruel breeze of reality.

That one four letter word

Which still lifts its head

Under the burning torrent of four letter words.

The blind eye that struggles to see the half full glass.
A totally contradictory entity-

this thing called hope.

A lease to life,

A reason to kill.

The Ceremony

She ran as fast as her pudgy legs would carry her, glancing back just once to look at the man she left at the altar.

But not fast enough.

"Kiki no! No! Come back here!"That was mummy.
Strong hands caught her chubby little arms, picking her up like a flailing sack of potatoes.That was Daddy.

"NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!" She screamed.

"Kiki, the Reverend is just going to pour some wa-"

"NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NOOOO!NOOO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!"

"Oh Goddamn it!"
"Roger! We're in a Church!"
"I don't care-!"
"Ahem."That was the Reverend.

Somehow whenever the Reverend spoke, everyone else seemed to shut up-or, as in Kiki's case, atleast lower the decibel level.

"Ahem." said the Reverend "Perhaps I could be of assistance. I'll talk to her." He put out a cold grey hand to Kiki.

Kiki's eyes shot to the door. Her fathers tightening hand on her collar said 'Don't even think about it' more elquently than a thousand line epic. Mummy shot her a glance which promised a sore bottom for a week. Well, she was pretty much dead already. So, there didn't seem much harm in talking to the old scarecrow.

Kiki- no no no- Katherine Elizabeth Mackenzie- lifted her chin and took the hand. She walked straight and proud, her shoulders squared. She bet Joan of Arc probably looked like this when she went to the stake.

The Reverend took Kiki to the little garden at the back.

"So Kiki, don't you want to be baptized?"

"Nont!"

The reader may go off on a tangent and imagine Kiki to be some Damian like devil-kid prototype. But the truth is that, in all her 5 long years of existence on the 1770s American Frontier, Kiki Mackenzie had never seen a church before. And this new Bostonian Church, with its sharp spires and pointed building, looked like something out of Uncle George's Dracula books.

"Nont! " she declared more forcefully " I know ye, ye old gargoyle! When i close my eyes yer gonner swoop down and sink yer fangs into me and turn me into them vampeer things!"

"What?!" The Reverend looked remarkably like a gold fish just then.

"An' if ye think I'm gonner letcha do that ye've got another thik comin' so there!"

The Reverend blinked a few times and then seemed to remember that he wasn't an owl.

"Er...Kiki dear, this is a Church-"
" No 'snot! Church is the house of God."
" Yes. It is th-"
" This shore don't look like any house i've seen."

The Reverend deliberately did not tear his hair.

"That's because God's house has to be special. He-"
"Oh yeah, if this is His house, how come all his pictures show him crying an' sad an' all huh? If this is His house, He shore don' like it."

Come to think of it she had a point, all the pictures did- But that's irrelevant!- The Reverend had to get this done.

"Listen Kiki, all I'm going to do is pour some water on your head and say some Latin verses and you're baptized!"

"An' how do I know yer not gonner put some hocus pocus on me huh? Huh? Huh?"

"You should trust-"
"SNORT!"
Logic was not working here. Though the Reverend - like Kiki aptly put it- did look like a gargolyle hewn from rock, his stony visage housed some incredibly creative faculties. He let out a huge, dramatic sigh.

" Alright Kiki.I have no choice. I have to tell you that great secret."

Kiki's eyes took on saucer like dimensions.

"I used to be one of God's angels."
"Oooh..."
Good it's working.
" Yes.. I refused to be baptized and so I have been punished to spend an eternity on Earth. And I have to eat oat cake and porridge every day- without honey!"

Kiki- tantrumic, and at most times the devils answer to the Child of God- possessed a very sympathetic heart and a disposition for heroics and general saving-the-helpless. The porridge without honey seemed the sharpest barb in the crown of thorns she pictured the Reverend in.

"There is only one way to save me, and only you can do it Kiki."
"What is it ?" Kiki glowed with the determination to save the hapless Reverend.

"For every child I baptized, 100 years were removed from my punishment.Now there are only 100 years left. If you refuse...then I will never be able to go to heaven. Please, you must help me."

A grown up was asking her for help!!

"Le's go Reverend. We have a baptism to finish."

The Reverend let out a sigh of relief and promised himself a few Hail Marys as penance. They went into the Church. Kiki's knees knocked in fear. But she steeled herself with the sad image of the Reverend's gargoyle face crumpled in pain.

They reached the altar.

The Reverend's lips moved in the prayer.

Steady Kiki.

He dipped his hand in the basin.

Hold on there sport.

The hand came out again.

Be strong Kiki.

The hand came down towards her.

Steady Ki-

" NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!"

Mary had a little Pig-A sensible nonsense poem

Mary had a little Pig
It's steaks were white as snow.
And they were so juicy and big
She liked to eat them so.

But this statement has logical fallacies,
And goes against Peta policies.
Consider if you will-

'You can't have your cake and eat it'
Then how can you with a pig?
And besides, if thePig was little,
How can it be juicy and big?

Thus I ponder this cosmic riddle,
With sweaty brow and thumbs a-twiddle.
Walked in circles and triangles.
Parallelograms and quadrangles-
UNTIL!
I came to a conclusion-
The perfect solution-
If you can't beat 'em,
Join 'em.

Now I'm off to Mary's to dig
Into some Pig.

Moveover Switzerland India is here!

These are a few pics of some of the most beautiful places i have ever seen in my scanty travelling experience.It pays to have a digi. :D Makes me wonder why people go all the way accross the ocean to see sights that we can find in our own country.

Eyes

Clear eyes look out

On a world as muddy

as a puddle of dirt.

Unflinching at chaos

Unblinking at hate.

Bleeding no tears of pain

As man fights brother.

And mute victims cringe

with their cries unheard.

They look bright and blue

At the scarred face

Of this land of peace-

now pieces of land.

And as carrion birds sweep

And tear and pierce the flesh,

The eyes still stare

Bright and Blue

From the face of one that fought

And won

NOTHING.

Ramblings-2

Life can be strange at times.

I am sure at some point of time in everyone's lifetime, there comes a moment where you stop in your tracks and say "WHOA!"

You know like during the september 11 wtc attacks. My aunt works with the UN. In that building.The only reason she was saved was because she was caught in traffic that day. Similarly, during the recent Bombay blasts, my friend's aunt had an equally close shave- she couldn't get into the train because someone shoved her out of the station.

Its things like this that make one stop in their tracks and take a look at the life they had been leading.

I mean we go through everyday faster than a caterpillar eating a leaf!"Oh I'm so busy !" we exclaim-but boil it down, what substantial thing are we doing? Have we made any real difference through our acts? If start analysing we'd probably realise that it's the little things that make it all worth while.

I know you must be groaning "Here she goes again about memories" But wait a sec gimme a chance man! just imagine this-at the end of your college life, are your classmates going to remember the grades you got- OR - are they going to remember the things you did to help them, hurt them, the gags the the comfort sought and provided...are they going to remember that-or they going to remember the notes you wrote?

ON that note, lets stop. This was today's dose of food for thought :D.

Ramblings

Today I decided to to take a walk through the wild jungles of my slightly(??) unhinged mind.And here's the first thought that popped up.

There are a few things that really matter in this world. I mean, of course our life is cluttered with "important" things at every point of time; but stop a while- wait a minute- hold your horses: out of those millions of things that "mattered", what stays perenially important until now??Hardly any.
Shows how fickle we human beings, are doesn't it? Lets just take a simple example. two years back, 12th standard, what was topmost in our list of priorities was the boards & admission. Now? Heh heh heh.

The things that matter are the people who have supported you through life, passions, nature, memories. People who have been there whenever, wherever,whatever! Like family, friends who stick like glue, mentors. Passions which helped succour your spirit and nurture your mind- like music, art, dance, running a mile and feeling the blood pump through every vessel in your body. Nature,or should I say, beauty.Beauty as in the purity of a sea of green hills in the early morning. The tranquil strength of that giant blue ocean ,the sight of that endless blanket of blue that is the summer sky.Memories: like those endless evenings spent playing mindless games with your little brother. Thinking of the silly jokes over which both of you would laugh your heads off.Remembering how your mother had cried when you won the competetion. Of how her eyes crinkle at the sides when she smiles. How your dad just knows when you want to have ice creams and gets it for you without u saying a word. How your friends came all the way from their place driving through the traffic just to see you. How all of us spent an entire evening trying to fix a banquet and ended up eating most of it before it reached the table. Of the surprises planned and the scrapes shared.

It's things like this that really matter.Everything else is susceptible to change. But the things that remain evergreen are the things that matter. Because whatever you become and whatever your new priorities" are- these are the things that will make you sit up and give ABSO-BLOOMIN-LUTE attention.

Limericks-1

These are my limericks I dunno whether they are technically correct, but I'm sure the comments I get will help me correct any mistakes. Cheers! Read on.

There was once a man from Burma,
He suffered from Leuco- Derma.
He darkened his patches,
And broke out in rashes;
He blames it on his karma.

There was once an old Sheikh from Muscat.
He kept all his money in a casket.
His apprentice knew,
With it he flew.
He didn't know the Sheikh had a musket.

There was once a girl called Shreya,
Who spent her days in prayer.
Along came Nitin,
And she was smitt'n.
Now she has no time for prayer.

POEM- Eve's Bite

One bite-

The Elixir flows.

Succulent flesh pours forth the juice;

Thirst quenching,

Rejuvenating

Life thrives-

But knowledge awakens-

SWAT!

The flow ends-

No one mourns a mosquitoe:

It bit the Forbidden Fruit.

Haikus-2

Summer-

Dried, dull,burnt corpses.
Yellow stalks bearing witness,
To the Sun's bright smile.

Winter-

Frosty smiles, cold faces-
graves of the seeds lie under
seas of bitter ice.

Electric fan-

Half-hearted circles,
Slow, lazy revolutions-
Mirage of Spring breeze.

Tubelight-

Dark and bright mingles,
Light and shadow play catch-catch.
A tube is dying.

STORY: And then it rained...

" HOW COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED????!!!!"

Rimi- 14yrs, student-tenth standard
Present Situation: hyperventilating, Eyes bulging, mouth working: in short, SHE'S GONNA BLOW!

"MAAAAA!"Rimi hollered- proving that Rimi's vocal chords were in superb condition.

"MAAAAA!"

" What is it? What is it?"

Ma- 38 yrs, teacher
Present Situation: Half Asleep, confused,worried.

" What is it?"

"Ma'arm'fing'sfalinguf?"

" What?Rimi, it'll do me a lot of good if you slowed down and - "

" Ma are my fingers falling off?"

"WHAT????"

Ma, Present Situation: Irritated, incredulous.

" You wake me up at two o clock in the morning because you wanted to know whether your fingers were falling off?????"

Nod, nod.

Ma took a long deep breath- ignoring the acid smell of both Rimi and Ranji's socks, a rotting lost lunch, and several other unique fragrances.

" No Rimi dear, your fingers are not falling off. See-they are all right there: all 10 of them. Now why don't you go back to sleep? You have your first exam tomorrow."

For the kind reader, who has been wondering for so long why a 14yr old girl of adequate mental faculties, must believe her fingers to be falling off- this will be a revelation.

You see, Rimi was going to write that incredible hurdle of the education system- The BOARDS. Yes, that looming spectre of Lugubrious Learning, that Emperor of Exams. That very same institution that turns students into desperate tape recorders - striving,straining to catch every word of their Together Withs and R.D Sharmas in their Venus fly trap brains, until no other thought but " MARKS" beat a tattoo into their young souls.

And these tattoos had begun to burn in poor Rimi's breast since the month before- taking the shape of terrible nightmares. Her worst one, until now, was where she stared at a blank question paper and every one else got a normal one. Finally, when the first question appeared on the blank sheet- the bell would ring and her answer sheet, white as driven snow, was torn away from her clutching hands.

But this newest one was the worst by far. In this case- She got a normal question paper- She even knew all the answers . But the moment she took the pen up to let her knowledge flow- Catastrophe!!"- each of her fingers fell off until all that was left was a trapezium shaped stub!!!

So friends, you will not condemn her to being childish- you will empathise with the turmoil in that young mind, when she bagan screaming "MAAAAA".

It took Ma another 10 mins to get Rimi to go to sleep again.

**

The day dawned.

The sky was overshadowed by dark black clouds and the rain beat a steady rhythm on the window panes.

Rimi felt like a goat during BakrEid.

"Hey sis, you're writing the first one today right?"

Ranji: 15yrs, student-11th.
Present Situation: gloating.

All Rimi could do was nod a shaken affirmative while the toast turned to ashes in her mouth.

" Hmm...you know, the general view is that the paper is going to be really tough this year." said Ranji nonchantly while Rimi wished him to perdition.

"It's ok Rimi. I am sure you'll scrape a 60%" Ranji smirked.

Rimi prayed for a war to erupt just then.

"Anyway 50% percent is also possible eh?"

Nuclear explosion PLEASE!!!

" Don't worry, if you fail, you can always write a compartment."

" Shut up you fool!"

"That's enough Ranji!"

Pappa- 43yrs, engineer.

" Hey, I was just stating facts."

" Sadist!" spat Rimi" I didn't see you stating facts this time last year. And I'll be sure to remind you of them next year this time!"

Rimi had the satisfaction of seeing him blanche.

"Stop it both of you! Rimi have your coffee."

" Pappa, I really don't want coffee."

" Did you eat your toast?"

"Yes" said Rimi, quickly checking whether her half eaten toast was well concealed.

"Rimi, stop being fussy and eat it. You can't go on an empty stomach- you know that."

Drat!

**

20 mins later-

"Pappa, shall we go."

"No wait, I'll just catch the broadcast.."

Oh no! this was just like nightmare no 132- leaving late reaching the examination hall just when bell rings for withdrawal of paper.

" No no pappa lets go now!" The whining had begun.

" Rimi, this will just take a few minutes and we have an hour and half till the assigned time anyway. Just calm down. "

Easier said than done Pappa dear.

" Pappa please pappa, take me there now pappa, pleasee pleaase please pappa, pleeeaaasssse."

' But Rimi, I -"

"Pleaaase...." almost in tears now.

Ma intervened- " Take her, you can see how she is. You can catch the broadcast later."

Pappa, understanding and patient though he was, could really not understand or be patient with Rimi's unatural nervousness. But- majority wins. Mumbling and grumbling about Prima-donna daughters and over hyped examinations Pappa left for school.

Horror of horrors, traffic jam!

Damn And Blast!!

"The roads seem flooded after yesterday's rain." commented Pappa, trying in vain to infuse some small talk into the charged atmosphere.

" Pappa we have to be at school by 7:30 otherwise the bus leaves without us to the centre!"

"Yes Rimi, but the car in front has to move right?" replied Pappa to his distraught offspring while furiously honking the horn.

15 desperate, nerve racking minutes later, the car was moving again, wipers flapping listlessly.

"Pappa please drive faster."

" Rimi, the road is full of water!"

"Pappa please we are going to be late!"

" Ok ok I''ll hurry."

Oh my God it's 7:15!!!

" Pappa, faster pappa!"

" Yes yes calm down it's only an exam."

"It's 7:15!!"Rimi was close to hysteria now.

" Rimi, don't worry- if we are late, I'll take you to the centre myself."

" Oh no! Alex sir said he'd give us some last tips! I'll fail if I didn't hear that!"

" Rimi, the only thing you have a risk of failing is in avoiding hyper tension. Now be sensible and stop being such a muddle of nerves."

" Yes Pappa."

There was a moment of silence.

"Pappa please drive faster!"

There's no use Pappa, your daughter is too strung up.

Finally, after a severely sloshy sojourn, the poor car reached it's destination.

Rimi jumped out of the car and ran to the front gate . The beating rain was unfelt on her zealous forehead. All Rimi cared about right then was to get into the bus, reach the centre, write the exam.

Pappa was calling something out.

"What is it Pappa?" asked Rimi just as she entered and turned to find-

NO BUS!!!

" OH NOOOOO!!!"

Poor Pappa probably thought Rimi witnessed some gruesome sight- not just a missing School bus. Not that we can blame him for supposing this- Rimi was standing motionless like a zombie; rain dripping from her ponytail, staring into the empty courtyard.

" Rimi! Rimi! What happened dear?" Pappa ran up to her and covered her head with his umberella.

"It's gone...." she whispered" gone..."

" Ah Reemee! what you doing? How you are?"

Ummar ikka: unknown yrs, watchman cum janitor cum canteen supervisor.
Present situation: Cheerful, umberella weilding.

"Hello Ummar ikka, how are you?" asked Pappa respectfully.

" Me?" Ummar ikka smiled genially, wiping his thick horn rimmed glasses," Oh, I am good. My leg not hurting so much- it usual bad hurtings when raining, but today not-"

" Pappa," Rimi meanwhile had revived from the shock "Pappa, shouldn't we be..." she ended giving him the broad hint.

"Ah.. Reemee," began Ummar ikka." why you in uniform? Where you going?"

Rimi underwent a sudden transformation- she was now patronising-better-informed-but kind-individual talking to inferior-intelligence-organism.

" You see Ummar ikka, today is the first board exam"

" No no Reemee, no exam today."

Rimi was now getting annoyed, valuable minutes were slipping away as she conversed with a man who had obviously gone senile.

" Ummar ikka, today is the beginning of the exams."

" No Reemee."

"But ikka, today is the 12th remember. "

"Yes Reemee."

"Then the exams are today."

" No Reemee."

Rimi was getting hysterical again.

"Pappa..."

"Wait Rimi. Why is there no exam then, Ummar ikka?"

"The morning broadcast say there no exam today because bad raining. See- news paper saying also."

"WHAT??????"shouted Rimi.

"Rimi! Rimi! Wake up! Wake up what is wrong? What happened?"

Rimi woke up to stare at Ranji's worried face.

" Ranji....it rained Ranji, it rained.."

**

Nominate for the Ignoble Awards-Morning sleep

It's widely acknowledged that yours truly is not the morning type.

I belong to the category of "normal human being". Those who burrow deeper into the matress/quilt/anywhere away from the source of light or sound, at the burst of light with the drawn curtains and wail of the (damned) alarm. But unlike what mindless, cynical, worldwise, dumdums call "laziness" (gasp!!Shocked stares!), we morning sleepers are conoisseurs of le dormis. I call it the Theory of Conscious Sleep.

There is a logical explanation for this theory.

Now let us look at a general scenario. When you are asleep at night- I mean the deep, mindless, drool-from-open-mouth kind of sleep. The kind of sleep from which even an earthquake wouldn't wake you: that is "dull sleep'. Sleep that's...well..dull. I mean you don't really enjoy it because....Dammit!you are not even concious at that point of time!

Now at around the time where your body clock knows it has to wake up- you reach a state of semi-concious sleep. That's why you can hear your mother's voice when she starts the whole " Get-up-you're-late routine. Precisely when you hear that voice/siren/death knell, this theory kicks in.
Now you can savour your sleep. Feel it seeping through your over worked body (???? no, no creative conotations thankyou)Experience it like a vision, Enjoy it like some fragrant wine...Why? Because, technically, you aren't really asleep. You are concious of the feel of the warm blanket and the cold world outside. You are conscious of how your bones feel like they are sleeping. You are conscious of the fact that every second of borrowed sleep involves a risk factor. "Risk Factor ?" you ask. Of course! Sleeping late involves many risks. Some of them are-

a) You might get clobbered by the mater when she loses her temper and decides to manually remove ( read 'throw you out') of the safe sanctuary of your bed.

b) You may have to re-enact the Speed 2 stunts so that you reach your work place on time...well...atleast not too late.

So, naturally,when posed with these risks- the adventurer in you wakes up and decides-" Let's just see how far I can push it!" Because this risk factor also involves not only lightning fast reflex actions ( in event of a hurled pan of water/ running to catch a bus), but also quick thinking and pitting your wits against worthy adversaries- your mother/ warden/ room-mate.
Naturally any hot-blooded human being will rise to the occassion and exhibit an act of pure defiance by staying asleep.

Therefore, in conclusion, I would like to declare that we morning sleepers are not what lesser mortals call " lazy bums" ( poor chaps, they are just....intellectually challenged...you know what I mean?) . We are the fighters of the small struggles! We are the pioneers for Revolution- we leave no rule unbroken! We are the true believers of " Method in Madness ". So next time you are being forced to wake up in the morning- just remember the " Theory of Concious Sleep" and stay PUT!

Some of my haikus

Summer:

The fires burn higher.
We cry for revolution!-
Of the dead fan blades.

Exam paper:

Red gashes on snow,
Dark smudges on white wastelands-
It's Death by paper.

To Varshini

She wanted to be free.
To run,
Like the wind in the desert.
She wanted to fly
High,
Higher
Higher still.
She wanted to be not anyone -
She wanted to be The One.
She wanted to be able to look
at the whole world :
looking up at her .

She wanted so much-
She could have Had so much!
A moment's mistake,
turned all her dreams-
into just dreams.

This poem is dedicated to 13yr old Varshini, who lost her life along with her brother in a car accident last week. May their souls rest in peace.