Showing posts from March, 2012

In Class

They pretend to know everything. We pretend to understand everything.

They read books before the class. We read books after the class.

Their blackboards look ugly with horrible characters. Our notebooks look beautiful with cartoon characters.

They wait for class to over. We wait for class to over.

Sweet Remembrances

As a kid I had rather weird ideas, self developed concepts, wisdom that I had realized in the few years of my earthly existence…… the faint line between  reality and my imagination was almost non-existent. I had my own notions about things, and felt strangely confident about them, in fact sometimes I was so proud of myself, thinking I was the only one who was able to crack these mysteries! There was no ambiguity or obscurity; I was the detective in the thriller written by God called ‘Life’!

     My earliest memories are of Santa-Claus and the deep affection I held for him. Oh! That vision of the plump old man with his “HO HO HO! “  that I had in my mind never failed to bring a smile to my face!  My belief in Santa knew no bounds, though I had a couple of friends who did not get regular visits from him, when it came to me I was always a good girl and my dear old Santa never forgot my presents! I was extremely excited to see what he would get me each time…I jumped out of bed each Christm…


My hand searched for my phone. Under the pillow – no. In the small space of  my 7*3 bed, unoccupied by discounted tiny mattress – no. In the folded bed sheet, on which I had slept but then it wrapped me like a martyr in national flag – no.
I didn’t want the trouble of opening my eyes. I started measuring my mattress’s dimension by spreading my leg to search for my phone. My flesh of leg touched something cold. That must be the metal back of my phone. Yes!!! Indeed.
I grabbed my phone. Without opening my eyes, I typed my password. Same password for almost a year then, and an whooping hundred texts per day, gave me enough practise for typing messages under the table in classroom without deterring my look from the teacher.
“1 message received.”
The sign of closed envelope on the home screen forced my sleepy eyes peeping through corners avoiding sharp back light to open with full capacity. It has now become ritual to enter in the world of dreams while spilling my heart in 160 characters.…