My dad sent me this text:
" I failed in some subjects in exam, but my friend passed in all. Now, he is an engineer in Microsoft and I am the owner of Microsoft."- Bill Gates
So I texted back: Does that mean I'm allowed to fail?
Dad: If you want to fail, be sure to turn out like Bill gates.
Showing posts with label Being Sixteen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Being Sixteen. Show all posts
Pass yaa fail?
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Not Intrusted
Everyone knows that no one really studies before July after you've completed tenth (doesn't apply to science people). But the school can't let us stay at home for WHOLE three months, can it? So this is what my school does- makes us reach school at SEVEN A.M. in the morning. Yes. Seven. Because its too hot at 7: 45. It lets us off at 1. Because its too hot at 2. This would've made sense, just a TINY, TINY bit if we had something to do in school.
For example, yesterday
First Block - Played Pictionary.
Second Block- Made up plans for tomorrow's trip but then dumped them all.
Third Block- Roamed around in school.
Break
Workshop
Its like this everyday. Anyway, coming back to my post topic,
We have workshops every single day. Career Counselling. People from different organisations come everyday to make us aware of all the options we have before we make a decision. Mostly, we are told about the unconventional, lesser known careers, which is rather fun. Like yesterday, we had a guy telling us about animation. Did you know that the entire Avatar was shot in an airport hangar?!! Wait, I'm going a little off the point now.
So we have very different people coming up and talking to us. People in my school don't accept anyone new easily. They poke fun and mock them, unless they judge them cool enough to listen.
There came some people who spoke a little differently. With an accent, or weird pronunciations. Face it, nobody's perfect. There was this one guy who kept pronouncing interesting as 'intrusting' and kept saying 'You needs'. So maybe its a little funny. Once. Twice. Then you've had enough with the mockery.
This is one thing I don't get- if people speak in a different way, why does the rest of the world have such a huge problem with it? Is it the reluctance to accept someone unusual?
My dad always says, if the content in your speech is good enough, if there is power in your words, then it doesn't really matter how you say it. People want to listen to you.
Last year, we had this teacher who broke up words, like she'd say, "Consti...." Pause. "Tution." "Legis...." pause. "Lation". When she started to teach us, many people inserted a 'pation' after the consti, before she could get to tution. But then everyone started to realize, she was a really, really good teacher. The best in her subject. Soon everyone forgot about the consti, and listened to her eagerly.
New Kid started making fun of the 'intrusting' guy and I told him to get over it.
"Come on, Srishti," said New Kid. "Don't be such a Mother India."
That doesn't even make sense. How does not making fun of somebody make you a mother India? Its not even called being nice...its just plain, common, courtesy.
And the New Kid is a published author.
Go figure. :|
We were taken to an old age home today. It was nice, but I certainly can't say moving. Everyone treated them like they were time bombs, who could explode any time and start crying and narrating their life story. They looked happy enough. A girl in my class started crying. Really. She did. :|
One important point one uncle there raised was, why don't we have religious studies as a subject? Not centered on one particular religion, but a basic, common understanding of all religions. After all, religion is an integral part of any society, its important that we know about it.
He's telling us a joke. Everyone was laughing crazily when he finished, but I didn't get it. Something' really, really wrong with me.
I also had to stand up and tell them how cool it was to be there! I used some really good Hindi words. :D
Also, I really, really like Regina Spektor. That woman is a genius. I love her music. Its all about Lady GaGa and Mariah Carey these days....Regina Spektor trumps all of them. Here is one of her coolest songs-
Can I get some fire?
So on Saturday night, I was at the New Friends colony market. Its a really good market actually, with loads of good restaurants without the snobby air of it.
I was with this other person (henceforth referred to as 'Uncle') and this another person (henceforth referred to as 'Ann').
We were waiting for our juice and I looked around aimlessly. There were food stalls and magazine vendors, as I checked out their titles.
Then Uncle pointed to us, a group of three girls. Look at them, he said. They're smoking, his voice more patronizing than usual.
I resisted the urge to say "So?"
Ann looked mostly unconcerned.
Uncle looked at them, disdain clearly visible on his face.
"Do y'know, smoking is prohibited in public places?", he told us in a matter-of-factly tone.
And then I realized something-
He wouldn't have given them a second glance, if instead of those girls, there were a bunch of guys standing there and smoking.
Which they do all the time. But does anyone bat an eyelid? No.
He still had an expression of distaste on his face, as if he'd swallowed a particularly juicy fly, and I half-expected him to go over there, snatch the cigarettes out of their hands, stump them beneath his feet and yell, "Batameez!"
I didn't want to say anything or I'd be chastised for Not Knowing Anything and Speaking Without Thinking.
I was a little confused; as far as i had seen, he was a man with modern views.
Then why this prejudice?
This question is not directed at him, but to all people in general who have a problem with ONLY girls smoking in public. Or smoking at all (or anything else, for that matter).
Is this how its supposed to be, then? Even though smoking in public places is banned, when guys do it, thats alright, but when girls do it, its not? Is that it? Now smoking is a guy's domain? Isn't that sexist?
In this day and age, when we pride ourselves on having a female President, when the gap between girls and guys is fast getting bridged, where does a prejudice of this sort fit?
Merely allocating a third of seats in the Legislature to women isn't gonna do the trick. Sexual prejudice is deep-seated, and needs to be combated in our everyday lives. The very mindset of people has to change. Handing out political power doesn't necessarily mean change. Its little things like these that matter.
Now I'm no smoker, nor do I think that its a very good habit. I mostly dodge the fumes, as I know that passive smoking is equally harmful. But I don't believe in this kinda prejudice.
In 10th, in Political Science, we had a chapter- Gender, Caste and Religion. It taught how discrimination takes place in each of these three.
We study about it so much, we make notes, we get marks and sometimes even straight A's. But when it comes to practical application, we fail miserably. Then we go back to our rigid, old-age, dead beliefs (not implying that these are ALWAYS bad), wholly convinced we are right.
Theory is BASED on practical application. If after reading about all kinds of biases, being explained how they are wrong in a thoughtful, logical way, we still cannot apply it in our lives, then its safe to consider our entire year absolutely wasted.
On a completely different note, I'M GOING TO CAMP!!!
Youreka, thank you, thank you, thank you for existing! 11th June, I board the train for Chakrata, or Room on the Roof. My major will be watercraft. I shall learn all about rafting, reading water currents, paddling and all that. I haven't yet decided on my minor.
Maybe I'll be awesome at my major. Maybe that one week will be the best week of my life. Maybe I'll meet the love of my life.
Who knows? Anything can happen.
I CAN'T WAITTT!!
Whooo-hooooo!!
Set Free
I AM DONEEEE!!
O.V.E.R.
overrrrrrrrrrrr.
Well, okay, stupid MCQ's are still left. But thats just for 20 marks. On 31st. WHO CARESS??
The point is, I'm almost free from the exams which have been ruining my life since practically the whole year.
And they went smoothly. In your FACE, CBSE. Heheh.
My Leesha's back and thanks to her, the room of my wall now adorns a gianormous New Moon poster. Edward yo. :)
These few months have been very, very hard. But now, I'm ready to take on April-May-June. Which are hopefully going to be one of the best months ever.
In fact, last exam just got over today and I already snuck out to a place where minors, such as myself, are not really, umm allowed. But I didn't take part in any of the err, activities, so its cool.
Since the exams are over now and every person on this Earth who I'm even remotely associated with is very concerned about those, the obvious question now is:
What next?
What are my plans for future, and stuff like that.
Well, I, after great deliberation and negotiation, have decided to choose Humanities.
Needless to say, I've been met with a lot of skepticism, criticism and a huge amount of advice.
Many (Mostly Apoo) says that I'll be wasting my time and ruining my future and not utilizing my 'mental aptitude' to the fullest.
That I'm crazy to take this and regret my choice later.
That I'll have to live in a rented apartment with cheap momos as my dinner every night, because I'm gonna have to work really hard and will receive very little in return.
That I'll struggle and struggle my whole life and still be denied the appreciation I want and /or deserve.
All I can say is, first do your homework right and then come and talk to me.
For the first time in my life, I'm actually excited about studying something. To hell with everything else.
Of course, it is true that I'll be stuck with a bunch of dopes who'll not be able to distinguish photosynthesis from photography, but who cares.
What I'll be studying for the next two years is:
English- Everyone has to study that. I want to study that.
Maths- Which will be my death I'm sure, but its always nice to have a challenge.
Economics- Love it as of now, but lets see.
Political Science- This...should be interesting.
Psychology- CAN'T WAIT!!
I'll also be studying French and Biology, but from somewhere else.
Some may say that my choice of subjects is really not respectable, whatever, but its better than Science, where even if I spent my every waking hour studying, I'll still only be acceptable.
I met a lot of great, self-actualized people today. I wish I were like them. Hell, I wish I WERE them.
My pathetic existence never ceases to amaze me.
Shooting the Moon
There's something about The Pogues which makes you want to throw off your shoes and dance on the table.
Which reminds me of my favorite scene from Titanic.
I'm against choosing favorite movies because you can't have one favorite movie, you have a bunch of favorite movies. But Titanic is an exception to that rule. Titanic is the awesomest movie ever known to humankind on Earth.
Its so cold that my nose has turned into an abnormal shade of pink.
There's so much fog that I can't see whats five meters ahead of me at eight in the morning.
Smoke, or whatever that thing is, comes out of my mouth even at noon.
I haven't seen the sun for days. Okay not days, hours whatever.
Lesson of the day: Do not walk with your shoelaces untied because you're too lazy to bend down and tie them.
It always hurts more in the cold.
Also, a haircut and a blow-dry are a lot more effective than I gave them credit for.
Bonjour India!
I was lucky enough to be a part of the twelve student group who were sent to the FIRC- French Information Research Centre. (Thanks Daggu :))
Little did I know, as I climbed into the twelve seater minivan, that I'd learn something entirely different than what was expected.
We were there to witness a story narration by a professional French Storyteller. Now, I've never met a storyteller. I didn't even know that a profession like that even existed. Telling stories for a living? My kind of thing!
As we walked inside the gates, I saw the chairs and tables covered in clean, white linen and multi-colored satin bows on them. There was a round table and chairs around it. I've always, always, always, wanted to sit at round tables covered with white linen. And there should be a champagne glass in front of me. I've seen those only at weddings, and somehow, that mood isn't created. But those chairs around the tables? For me? Yay!
And then I saw around twenty-five little French kids, all dressed as if they were out for a picnic. There were other schools too, but they naturally caught my attention. They, as I found out later, were the kids from Lycee Francaise, which is a French school for children from classes sixth to eighth. The event was pretty formal and they were running around, playing and I immediately smiled, seeing what they were doing. We stood, as we were a little early, looking around, and surprisingly, they approached us. First came the boys, and alomst all of them had golden hair (not blonde) and the Zac Efron hairstyle which I totally LOVE! This one:
Only less weirder. So I couldn't stop staring at them. I was too nervous too actually talk to them so I let the others talk.
1.
And then, behind me, this group of French girls come and say, "Quelle est votre classe?" Which is your class? I look nervously at Shubhra. " Dixième," she tells me. I repeat.
We look at each other for a while...a little more broken French.
"Je t'aime ta jupe, " I like your skirt, I tell one girl.
"Merci, merci", she says happily.
Then they go back. We roamed around for a bit, as we were early.
2.
And then I noticed something- there was French Jazz music playing in the background. And the little French kids, they started dancing! Just like that.
There were many people there, all of them older, and they didn't care. They started dancing, doing weird, funny little actions.
Just like that.
I couldn't take my eyes off them. Would I dance with all those people looking at me? No. Why?
3.
Finally, we took our seats, and this French boy turns around and looks at me. "Bonjour," I say. He grins and holds up two fingers, the victory sign. These kids were COOL.
The event started and whenever anybody on the stage said Bonjour, just as a form of greeting, all those French kids would shout Bonjour back.
The group-song competition started...first up was our school and the name of the song was announced.
4.
And surprisingly, all the French kids started hooting and giggling. "Whats so funny?" I asked them in French. One of them said managed to squeeze in between giggles,"Sarkozy...Carla Bruni."
I couldn't make anything of this answer until later I came to know that that song was dedicated to Nicholas Sarkozy by Carla Bruni.
Those kids were giggling.
5.
Our team was singing, it was a slow, romantic, melodious song. Everybody was listening quietly. And one of the French kids, he started clapping. Slowly, with the beat, holding up his hands. He looked at us and gestured to us to do the same. Clap for our team.
There were students there in the age group of fifteen to eighteen years. There were college students and post-graduates. There were teachers and adults.
And here is this twelve year old foreigner telling us to clap, cheer for our own team while everyone listened quietly. Obviously, when the song ended, we did cheer. But that was different. Cheering for a stranger, and sincerely, is much, much different.
6.
It was the French kids' turn then. They ran to the stage, pushing each other. All of them wanted to be in front. As I looked at them, I saw myself. I. Group song. Pushing. Laughing. Not caring that we're on the stage.
They sang enthusiastically, tapping their feet on the ground, almost jumping. After the song ended, they clapped for themselves, and one of them even jumped off the stage and fell face down on the grass. I couldn't stop laughing. (No, he did it intentionally!)
7.
Another school's turn. They became very excited when the heard they would be singing Champs-Elysees, a popular French song. They sang along to every word, encouraging everyone to join in.
Then was the time for story narration.
8.
One of them, Clarisse was the name, would be narrating a story. They cheered for her, and they cheered good. "Clarisse! Clarisse!", they yelled, clapping their hands. "Relaxe! Relaxe..." they kept saying...and it was so refreshing. When everybody sat on their seats, prim and proper, these children were jumping up and down, supporting their friend.
She narrated the story beautifully, avec action et al.
Then came, Muriel, the professional French story-teller. Muriel here, had vivid, red, curly hair and she wore a so many beads and necklaces and bangles. But the way that woman narrated a story- awesome. She mostly narrated folktales. She traveled all over the world and collected folktales from different cultures. What inspired her to choose a profession like that, somebody asked.
Because, she said smiling wickedly, when I was twenty, I was much in love with a guy who loved stories.
She was fifty seven now.
She told us mostly folktales, about devils and angels and heaven and hell. About how the city of Los Angeles was built and why people say 'Uh-hun.'
"Its all about," she said, "finding the right story for the right person at the right moment."
9.
The French kids were the perfect listeners. They gasped and 'oohed' and 'aahed' at the right time and every once in a while, they'd raise their hands and go, "Madame! Madame!" and ask questions. Even in the middle of the story. And nobody minded.
Then there was a play, La Petite Chaperon Rouge. The Little Red Riding Hood.
"Thank you everyone for coming. Now you can all proceed to have lunch, we have chocolate croissants and hot chocolate and sandwiches waiting for you."
And the French kids exclaimed and ran towards the food.
And at that moment, right then, I wanted to be one of them.
I had to be one of them.
I had to.
They were so...carefree, unrestricted.
So unaffected, it was amazing.
I wanted to be able to go upto older, intimidating (?) strange teenagers and talk to them casually.
I wanted to to dance on French Jazz, not caring that a group of snotty teenagers were staring at me.
I wanted to make the 'V' sign AND look cool.
I wanted to hoot after hearing the Bruni-Sarkozy song.
I wanted to cheer for my team, absolutely not caring what anyone thought of my screams.
I wanted to jump and laugh on stage and not feel conscious.
I wanted to jump off from the stage, rock-star style.
I wanted to yell my friend's name among a meeting of serious, sophisticated people.
I wanted to jump because there was hot chocolate for lunch.
I wanted all that.
Because they were happy people. The real happy.
And I'd settle for NOTHING less.
Where has the heart gone? Where has the spontaneity of actions gone?
Nevertheless,
*raises empty wine glass*
To the French Spirit!
Love,
Srishti
P.S. There's a chilly nip, or rather, Christmas in the air. Bring on the warmth, whatever may be the source. ;)
Good enough?
Every so often, these thoughts, they enter my mind, sometimes strong, sometimes weak. A random photograph, a song, a passage from a book, triggers my mind and I think.
Do I have what it takes?
Will I make it?
The people around me are sophisticated, poised, shrewd. They know how to get what they want. They know how to get around. They know the way.
They’re aware of the tactics, and they don’t mind breaking the rules. Morality comes later.
They are the types who won’t mind shoving it in your face; they won’t mind clawing you to get ahead.
They have it all, people say. They have it all.
And again I think:
Am I good enough? Good…but is it enough?
And then…then the Voice spoke aloud again. The very same Voice which had helped me when I needed it, the Voice which had guided me forward when I couldn’t see, the Voice which was always by my side. The Voice which urged me to move ahead no matter what, which kept me grounded when I floated above.
And the Voice told me, as it had always done, “The only person you need to be good enough for is only, and only, you. As long as you're honest to what you do, they cannot harm you. ”
And instantly, all my doubts, fears, insecurities were washed away. All of them. As long as I knew that I did my best, that I gave it all I had, that I was the best I could be…t’would be alright. I needn’t be good enough for them. I needed to be good enough for me, and for me alone.
Content.
Thats what I am.
Content.
"I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and doggone it; people like me. " - Al Franken
My ok-ok Diwali
Happy Diwali, people!
Well, belated actually.
All in all, this was an okay-okay Diwali. Some problems were solved, some new cropped up.
The best I could come up with, due to my non-existent artistic skills.
cLats year's was better, I think.
No it was as bad.
I love how everything is enveloped in lights. And when I try to take a picture, sometimes it looks like there are colorful musical notes suspended in air. Like this:
And this:
This was the view from the eighth floor in my building last year.
Which were, unfortunately, simpler times than these.
Sigh.
Love,
Srishti
Uncertainty
It seems as if the only certain thing in my life…is Uncertainty. Everything right now is uncertain. Uncertainty comes with the Wait. The waiting, the wondering...will I get it? Will we go? Will it be OK? Will something happen?
Answers: None. Only the Wait.
I wake up one morning, thinking it to be any other normal day…and suddenly it seems as if the whole world’s tumbling down. And on the day something should happen, the huge feeling of anti-climax envelops me.
This Uncertainty, this makes each emotion extreme. Every single one. When I’ve lost all hope and I think, this is it. Ain’t gonna happen. And suddenly it does…obviously, I’ll be overjoyed. Over the moon. Bliss.
And when…when I wake up in the morning, excited, anticipative thinking, yes. Today’s the day. What I’ve been looking for. It all crumples down with the swish of a feather. With one wrong decision. Then I’m crestfallen, downcast.
It’s a wonder I haven’t been diagnosed with Bi-polar Disorder.
And at the end of the day I lie in bed thinking, ‘If only…’
What could have been had I…? The possibilities are endless. So are the outcomes.
With each decision dictating the next turn in our life…how do we choose the correct one?
With everything uncertain in the life, do we learn to go with the flow…or do we plan even more relentlessly?
With the world moving by in a rush, how do we keep our feet on the ground while keeping pace?
"The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next" - Ursula K. LeGuin
I'm not blaming uncertainty; because in the end, uncertainty is what makes life enjoyable. I'm just saying...its not very easy to live with. Sixteen is not easy.
I'm sixteen!
My life supposedly turned 'sweet' on the twelfth day of this September. 'Sweet sixteen' is not supposed to be all that sweet, you know. They say sweet like they say sick. As in, this guy says, "I rode a dirt bike man, it was sweeeeet! It was SICK" So it wasn't really sweet or sick.
Sweet in this case, I think means that this is the age, baby. To do wild and crazy things. To cross lines. To make new ones. Take it or leave it, you won't get another chance.
Go crazy. Lose yourself. BE sixteen.
Is this change supposed to come overnight? 'Cuz I'm still all same.
The only change is that I have a few more belongings now, presents you know. :D
And many more memories.
I'm a TOTAL age wimp. I don't know what that phobia's called, where you're scared to grow old, but I SO have it. I'm trying not to think that next year this time, I'll be seventeen, ALMOST an adult. An ADULT. I can barely tie my shoelaces, I mean, come on! Ok, I can tie my shoelaces , but still!
Except the oh-no-I'm-sixteen-going-on-seventeen-part, my birthday was pretty good! Now I HAVE to write maine kya-kya kiya, or the birthday fever will never die.
11 September- Okay so I woke up at around 5 in the morning. I hope you know what a birthday can do to a hyper-excited kid(?).
Mallika gave me a present in the bus. But the genius had, for some reason, squeezed in some amount of diluted fabric paint in the tape or something. My first present of the day, I ripped the wrapping paper apart and bam! My WHITE shirt now has permanent blue spots on it. Never mind.
In class, I felt like a queen! Haha...I'm not THAT small. Got a few more cards and presents (Daggu, thanks for the singing card!) and two beautiful bouquets. :)
I kept asking the teacher if everyone could sing 'Happy Birthday' for me. By the end of the day, they could write a song about how much they hated 'Happy Birthday'. :D
And seriously, they REALLY thought I knew nothing about the cake. Right! But break was ruined by stupid Yoga Workshop. Matlab, seriously. Yoga workshop on my birthday...I'd rather take double maths. And how were we supposed to do dhyaan or whatever when the yoga instructor standing in front of me had the HUGEST butt ever? Me, the girl with unstoppable, crazy laugh. Especially when there was 'pin drop silence'. Then its absolutely mandatory that I laugh.
Moving on, I came back to the class, cut the cake and got it plastered on my face. YAY!
I carried my bag of presents and bouquets with ABSOLUTE glee to the bus and then from the stop to home. And that was 11th.
12th September|The Big Day: My dad told me to hang up the phone at 1 in the night. Woke up around 8:30 or so, showered, went to the temple and the rest of the day was how a Party Day should go, you know, GIP, food, fun. Whatever. Yawn. SO over it(not).
Except by the end of the day, I wanted to crush the phone under my mum's heels. Fortunately, I didn't. Came back from mall at around 5, met up with other friends, and FINALLY when I thought I could lie down and watch TV, Ass and Prerna came over. Not complaining though. 'Twas sweet of them. :)
13th September (yeah it was a birth-weekend!): Dad's present still remained! I asked him to take me to My Sister's Keeper. And the only hall where it was still airing was in Select Citywalk and thats far and he still took time out! Though I cried my eyes out on that one. Seriously. That scene with the collage that Kate made totally had me bawling. Oh, well.
But the fun is not over, my friends! 20th September is the Dance party that I so naively promised. Yeah, yeah...I'm rubbing it in. After all, I don't turn sixteen everyday, do I? ;)
Love,
Srishti (16 and 6 days old)
P.S. Stupid Blogger's taking too much time to upload photos. Will do it later.
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