Wednesday, 26 March 2014

On playgrounds and bhoots.

I keep thinking of writing on my blog. While walking back from the canteen, while sitting through a boring class, while so many things. But, each time I turn my laptop on there’s always something more important to be written down. I have opened this new word document midway through writing a 3000 words report for my epi class. There’s so much to read and write that I am not able to ‘read’ and ‘write’ much, which is quite a shame coz people always take time out for things and people they love. Probably I don’t love to ‘read’ and ‘write’ after all. Anyway, there’s so much on my mind that I am really not able to focus on any one thing… so, I guess I should make it just a ‘moments’ post.
This is playground no.1

We had those big playgrounds in our school when we were young. The first had cemented flooring- the basketball and volleyball courts. We had a stage there earlier. Then we had those royal steps leading down to the second ground where there used to be Diwali celebrations before our school authorities awoke to the uselessness of fireworks in such a grand way. Then we had a third ground. They grew something there. Long grasses. God knows kis cheez ka grass. And the slope that led to that ground was one of the steepest slopes for me. I remember we weren’t allowed to go to the third ground usually. And there were numerous rumours among us about the possible reasons why we weren’t allowed to go down there. The most common was, as is obviously common among all children, there is bhoot in the ground. We even claimed to have seeing a girl comb her long hair at a window near the house and disappear the next time we looked that way (though exactly how it proves that she is a bhoot is something I must question my younger self!)So, anyway, we weren’t allowed to go to that ground. But, when we were, it was like Eid for all of us and all the kids ran down that slope (the one I was talking about before being carried away by the bhoot story)as fast as they could run, screaming at the top of their voices…All of us, except one child- ME! Coz I didn’t know how to run down a slope!!! I was scared like shit! And each time I had to ask some other child to hold my hand and walk me down the slope (there weren’t many takers for this helpful position coz it deprived them of the chance of running down the slope!).
A few minutes ago I was walking towards my hostel and I saw this tree on the way. It has a fruit-ugly and dried up and I don’t think it is fruity kind of fruit, but just a fruit biologically, if you know what I mean. It reminded me of that ground with long grasses. I could almost feel being back in that ground- from where we could see Central School. We used to play bhoot-bhoot (obviously!!! ) and ghar-ghar. Some of my classmates could make samosas out of a certain kind of tree leaves (I obviously didn’t know how to!) We played ‘batla poison’ (bottle of poison) and ‘kati patang’. Ahhh!!! We now have a big auditorium in the third ground. Mother Veronica auditorium. It used to be hot and windy down there (perfect for the ‘bhoots’ that lived in the ground).

No twist in the tale. This post ends here :P

Tuesday, 18 March 2014


Life is going on. Alhamdulillah for that. But, every once in a while we come across people, things, incidents that make us wonder if there's any point in all this.
Like a big grey cloud that hovers on your head, sadness may be following you. Worse still if the sadness is not yours but of people around you. People you want to help, you try to  help, but can't.
What a helpless feeling it is- not to be able to sort things out for others.
Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Those 'manglik' kind of things. Why are the people around me sad? Why do I have to struggle always to make people happy. Or is it that this is all my job in this world is? To cheer people up. I can go on only that much. I can inspire, motivate, help, support only that much. Beyond that, I am no less a human than anyone around me. I too can crash and burn.
If only I could change fortunes, I would. If only I could make things alright, I would. If only I was God.


Now reading ... "Crime and Punishment" by 'Fyodor Dostoyevsky'.



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