About being a Teacher & making the most of life...

Yes, I forgot about my lil' vent-space, till K'Tall (heh.. the name) reminded me that I could blog, when i told him I was terribly bored. I brushed it off with a "I'm in too much of a snappy mood to write". Hell Yeah I was! Somethings refuse to budge in my life, lets not get into that. Anyhoooo, I just had a flash-flood like realization, that I'd run out of ideas. Ideas strike me only, and only when I'm extremely busy with work! Since work has been normal and routine for the past week, I didn't really need vent-space. Besides, I'd been meeting Wag-kid and rAD-R quite often. Loads of fun! Really!

So again, I'm back! Blame it on the really important work I'm currently pursuing to complete. Well, the BIG update is that Aw and me have joined an NGO as volunteers, and well... *pause pause*... We Teach. Being a teacher, the non-textbook kind, changes the status of Dream 1 on the list to A.c.c.o.m.p.l.i.s.h.e.d. The girls at this school we teach at are quite adorable. (Thank Heavens they're girls... so well-behaved and nice like all girls usually are).

There's Girl1 - the attention seeking, question-always-answering, smiling-to-buttering(eh?), bounty-points-wanting girl, who sits right in the front, trying to supply right answers to me which I gladly wave off with a smile.
Girl2 - the last bencher, chatter box, bully (really.. trust me), whom I caught trying to ape me while i wrote on the board (Dude... chalk... its been so long!). Well, she quietly slipped into her best behaviour when I asked her if she had something to say with the most smashing smile I could offer. Guilt trips work like a charm!
Girl3 - Always giving me wrong answers, and super shy, so the answers are given in the softest of whispers. I promptly correct her in whispers as well. We work like that. :)
Girl4 - Eager, confident and wants to be politically correct, so we caught her peeking into the book. Eager works for me though.. brings in energy to my class.
Girl5, Girl6, Girl7 - Who waved me goodbye as i left, asked me to come back next week and left me enough warmth and fuzziness to last me all day.

NGO-time is packed into my week very conveniently, and I can't get over the fact that I'm finally doing this! :) (Hope you're smiling too, its quite an amazing feeling).

This is how I'm making the most of life. Hanging onto every moment passed now - every smile passed over to me (non-obviously, of course), every instance of eye-contact made (Oh! Could I die for that!), every meeting made with Goofy (last few, sighhh, heavy heart) and the others, every sign of shop-a-holism i've shown (love, love, love it!), among many other every things.

PS : I can eat with chopsticks now, thank you rADR! Although, my food-mate must possess patience.
Wag-kid, hehe, may thou inspire many :P
Goofy, wait for a more sigh-sigh post about you.

A Very Beachy Affair This...

Every one, without exception, always has someplace where they find Peace. The place can vary, and so can the kind of peace that they are looking for. For the menfolk(I love commenting on them), it could be as silly as dropping themselves loosely on a bean bag with a gaming joystick in hand and punching the air out of an animated figure. For me, it has always been the beach.

Life threw me into City(Read this), and City had a beach, a very long one at that. Mind you, City was always piping hot, with tropical weather at its best 9 months out of 12. The other three months were bearable, considering it was winter. So, I always loved the beach at night. City has a beach which i'm going to call Ellie, of course.

Being in City all alone, made me fall in love with Ellie. Normally a very stressed out day at the workplace, would normally end with me calling ThunderBird (one of my best friends who helped me get past City), and zooming off to Ellie. The long paved red walkway for 60-something couples to walk along, after a wholesome dinner was the first thing that struck you as different. Ellie was rather small, but the market, food and entertainment section (often like a fair) was restricted to one stretch of the beach. The other half was for regular thinkers (like me, ahem) and young couples (City had very few of those) to plonk themselves by the water.

Each time I made my way to the sea-side, sand in my shoes, a strong-warm wind blew towards me, and I'd trod carefully, looking for any sharp objects that I'd like to avoid stepping on. Plonking myself on the sand, I always made it a point to look in the direction of the fair. A little giant wheel (oxymoron that) with its rotating lights, carts selling awful chilli bajji's, the little Gas-lights that lit them, and my favorite object of attention - The Balloon Shooting stalls. These stalls normally had a bunch of little children, waiting for a strong gust of wind to blow these balloons off the flimsy cloth wall. Once that happened, they'd tear down chasing behind them, laughing loud, eventually bursting them on their way back.

Then, a long hard look into the sea, which almost always decided to blow some peace my way. Thankfully ThunderBird never asked why I wanted to go. I've thought hard about my transfer, work problems, mended a broken heart, made my will stronger by Ellie. Everything that needed hours of pondering over, would be reserved for a trip to Ellie. This, had to be followed by dinner at Mash and that was a ritual. I'd always look forward to those heavenly plates of hot food. So, decide to walk back to the road, towards mash, tousled hair, salty lips and the smell of the sea.

Soppy Opera. Not.

Well, yes. I watch Hindi soaps and its a number I can distinctly count on my fingers - 2. At my defense, these 2 soaps are pretty good, you must check it out sometime, its not a mother-in-law vs daughter-in-law saga, etc. So, I'm warning the men about this post - this is not going to be a techno-analysis or a sports update, you might want to take my advice and steer clear off it. In case of matters of curiosity, read on.

The soap I am talking about is called Mahi way and you could find a link for the page here. (Sony entertainment television may as well pay me for this). OK, Mahi, Big fan. I simply love this girl's persona - plump, smart, happy outlook, bold (but not brazen), super frank, clumsy and lovable. Not getting down to the nitty-gritty of the plot, its about this Girl, who's a confused 25 year old seeking stability and sanity, but doesn't want to let go of the craziness in her life. This show gives me a Television's grown up feeling and i can't wait for the late night screening of this show on Tuesdays.

Well, the point I'm making here is about the connection that I (and probably other 20 something women) have to this show. This girl, Mahi, makes me think. She's frank, you know, so frank that sometimes she ends up in situations where she probably curses herself endlessly soon after. This makes me go "me tooooooooooo! Damn I said that to him", more often than not. Yes, its mostly always a him. Actually I believe in the "What if there's no tomorrow" concept. Its this constant fear that I should actually go and tell someone something in case something drastic happens. Like- him moving away, not wanting to talk to me ever in his frigging life, trampling all over my feelings without having a clue, thinking I don't care when i actually do, thinking i care too much when i actually don't, misunderstanding etc (melodramatic?). This probably looks like a psycho impulsive persons thing, but trust me its not.

The point is I always want to set the record straight. Simple lines, and my complex interpretations.
You're cute (and you really need to know that but i'm not looking for anything more).
Coffee? (we can be really good friends, pretty please don't misunderstand this!)
Do you think we should meet sometime, would you come? (we need to sort confusion, and get back to being good friends)
We're good friends. (I really mean that, really!)
Menfolk, on the other hand are expert complicators. Everything, must be complicated, misunderstood and mismanaged. Situations must not be handled. This post is not about them though, hence i move on.

Back to the soap. The normal Mahi, almost married this Rich, hot, amazingly perfect guy (calling him Hotness) last night, and suddenly realised, at the mantap, that -> "Dude, you're perfect, for everyone else. I need more than just being a wife to someone like you". Aaannddd she leaves, saying "ktnxbye". I was cheering, and doing a mental wooohooo!! (Argentina was smashing Greece on channel 66 btw, not that i care). The dawn of realization and escape to freedom was, ummm inspriring. The least she could do was figure things out, for herself and for Hotness.

Overall, I think this was a very slick, well made show. Hotness was very hot. Best friend was also very hot, saw shades of my goofy best friend -male (guess who, quick?) in him. The dilemma's faced, the complexities of having crushes, well handled. Sadly, I think the show's wound up. Dammit!

Note to menfolk - ignore, or learn.
Note to women - love, check this out.
Note to crush - I'm harmless.
Note to Milind Soman - I love you.

Everyone loves Hair(y) Man

This is my "Heavy-Heart" post. Heavy-hearted because I see this to be the beginning of an ending. An ending which is inevitable, an ending which all of us come to terms with and an ending which we work around anyway. We should, considering, 'thats what friends are for' (some wise people say). The reason for my heavy heart, reader, is because this friend of mine is going away, probably forever (who knows?).

I'm going to call this friend, 'Hairman', and I'll leave you to put a face... err.. hair to this name. Hairman came into my life probably in class 9, from this other cool locality in Bangalore and as luck (good) turns out, lived pretty close to my place. Was I a nasty friend or what, I conspired among many and made a really silly poem about Hairman to which he retorted, with another silly poem. His silly poem was a slap-on-the-face for my fellow conspiree(is there a word like this?). Then, Respect.

Hairman and I, bonded in class 11 (if my memory hasn't failed me), over walks back home and cycle rides (yes, he saved me once when my brakes were jammed). He always had something funny to say. If teased, at any point, he'd brush it away with the wave of a hand and a smile, which gets you assuming some more. To this day, 6 years later, the same wave of the hand is the general technique used. Still effective.

The mighty sport that Hairman was, he'd never say no to much, be it dancing, playing, urgent chaat requests, which naturally made him the most popular person in school (seniors, juniors, teachers, bahadur, dil bahadur, etc). He was pretty popular at home too, he was my after-the-dark-walk-home-with-Hairman person. Such is Hairman, that meeting him once would be enough to strike you with "attributes" like trust, respect, admiration, warmth, humor, etc.

Another incident of the recent past, which really strikes me is one where Hairman called me on my birthday. I'd had very disturbing pre-birthday events and was pretty heartbroken in another city. Hairman's early morning call, the attentive listening to my ranting, the extraordinary jokes that were cracked about the situation, the 'It happens, let it go', made my heart feel lighter (momentarily at the least).. left me wanting to crack some crazier jokes about me. A well kept secret is that, along the way, I've learnt to laugh at myself from Hairman.

Well, the years have passed and I've become really close to Hairman. So much to learn from him, so much to look forward to if he's around. The hairstyles have changed as frequently as spring turns into summer. The Hair has been rockstar-long, barely-there, bald, growing-back-messy, messy-enough-for-an-interview, unkempt. As we pass through the unkempt phase, Hairman's all set to go and seek greener pasture (verrrrrrrrrrry green pasture) and I've been feeling this mixed emotion - Sadly-excited. An oxymoron alright, sadly so because he's going away and i presume will take many years to return to home turf. Excited because this is the best thing that could happen to Hairman.

This too shall pass, with a little help from my friends.

A Shoe-String...

Thin (or a few mm more in diameter), usually black or white, ends tightly wound up with tape, thats where i carry my emotions - On a Shoe-String. Not that I have in-depth knowledge of women and their pysche, I'd say, most women do.

I presume that this phrase was created by some egoistic man, who'd probably want to lace a womans emotions into his shoes. Picture this in black & white - A tall, slick, well built, masculine man with a thin moustache {as thin as a Shoe-String, again} and hair Gelled back into a tiny ponytail; a rather thin, sickly woman in a long dress weeping helplessly in a corner. Well, I'm sure the origin does not matter much, but the essence of him wanting to overpower her and her emotions does.

Sometimes, I convince myself that the shoestring is an inappropriate object to place your emotions on. I end up doing it anyway, as hard as i try not to. If you dissect a Shoe-String you'd probably find 5 thinner strings wound and woven together(There is a possibility that there are more, but those are the complex sort and I'm not going there). I presume, that for a woman these stand for - Love, Trust, Envy, Ambition and Warmth (this is MY list, feel free to add on). This is one awesome combination, take my word for it.

It might take some time for a man to actually unravel the Shoe-String. Both ends are so tightly wound up with tape. Ever wondered why, when the tape on the ends come off, you try so hard to tape it back together before lacing your shoes, and its never the same? The tape always comes undone. I gather that this is symbolic in a weird way.

I carry my heart on a Shoe-String,
Baby, I'd give it to you,
If only you'd make my heart Sing,
Would you give me yours too?

(That was an original composition, pretty darn good i think ;) )


Anyway, I hope that my Shoe-string is given to someone who'd love and respect it with all of his heart. In return, I'd gladly accept his football, mp3 player, Ipod, Ipad, iTouch, basketball or whatever he cares to keep it safe on.

Sigh, romantic post. Comes as part of the weather in Bangalore, I think.

I am a serial time waster.

Well.. If my blog had been followed (sad.. if you haven't already), I'd be asked a zillion times, what a serial time waster does. The answer to that, of course, is nothing. Mind you, its an art in its own. Being a classic STW (need I explain this?) takes more than lying around feeling morose and wasted for a day.

Facebook addiction. The mother of all time wasting tactics. F5. F5. Home. Ooooh! Pics. Click Click. Add as friend. Tag. Mafia Wars, Farmville, Fishville (yes, and you feed them virtual worms). Facebook provides wholesome time wasting.

Techno-Junk. Read, gain knowledge and invest, they say. You always make a better buy when you are well-informed. Who would think they were encouraging men to scan websites after websites listing electronic gadgets? More wires to you, STW!

Magazine flipping. Online or otherwise. (My favourite STW-ing technique www.highheelconfidential.com). Nothing more delightful than watching celebs strutting their stuff and nothing gives me more kick to see them getting it all wrong. Atleast, I'm on the same page as they are. (No, I'm not implying page 3)

Plan the Future. Plan some more, realize its all wrong and start from scratch again. Too bad I keep forgetting to take notes.

Speculate on the possiblities. Well the possibilities are infinite, a STW should know that.

Catch up with friends online. A masterpiece of a line ever created, cleverly incorporated by my fellow STWs. Everyday? Really? Does chatting really match up to actually meeting them?

Believe you're an artist. I'm an expert at doodling. A STW can doodle to the extent of believing they're good. I do.

A STW will also blog, micro-blog and then do a round up of all those traits to live up to the name.
Comments anyone? Suggestions to the amateur STW?

You've got to just love those rainy days in this city. Bangalore, my charming little (atleast, used to be one) city where you expect a tormenting cloud to hover about for hours and then not shower down upon you. The point I'm making is, clouds seem to think here. Uncanny as it may sound, the same cloud can give you a burst of rain and silently float away. Come and go without a bang, and the next minute, bright sunshine!

Ask any true Bangalorean (Bengaluru-ean/Benagloorite sounds rather depressing), they'd give you the most heart rendering reaction about Bangalore (again, I'm going to stick to the charming name it had). "Bangalore's got charm", which pretty much seeps into the people living here as well. Charming, quaint, practical and all those adjectives you'd choose to describe a really charming place.

Being away from here, home, was probably the hardest phase for me. They say, once a Bangalorean, always a Bangalorean. No other city can be called home after being here. After being dropped (like hot cake, at that) into a city (owning to my cribbing nature, I'd rather not name this city, just going to call it city), I felt alienated. Entering City was like entering an oven which your mother chose to pre-heat to bake some cake. City was not so kind to me either, since it had a brain of its own (generously lent to it by the residents). It chose to give me the worst summer, worst monsoon I'd ever faced.

Sooner than I expected, i got used to City, with its ways that connected to the roots of the Indian Culture. I saw it all around me, amidst all the hustle and bustle, the big waves, the loud gyrating music and dance, City never failed to impart little lessons. Lessons for me to look back at life, undo somethings, redo some others. The most important lesson, never (and i mean never) discard your old history text books. You'll find the most amazing man-made structures in City and surrounding areas. Artistic temples, big sculptures and references in your old history books that you never thought you'd encounter.

City is certainly going to have many references in this thread and then the story of how Bangalore pulled me back in one line- Bangalore is home (and I came back humming Mama, I'm coming hooooomme) and will always be.