Is it Common Wealth or con our wealth games!

Nine lakhs for a treadmill, eight thousand for a chair, a refrigerator for fourty thousand, four lakhs for an air conditioner. I can assure you that inflation has not gone through the roof nor are these rates quoted in Zimbabwean Dollar. But what gets my goad is that these are not even buy prices but ‘give it back to me’ rental prices for two months. So much so for getting our own rupee symbol last month. I am sure these figures will look good with the new symbol but it really hurts to know that these numbers somehow tie back to the tax money that went out of my pocket.

Welcome to the Commonwealth Games, Delhi, 2010. The fireworks have already started, allegations are flying thick and fast and it’s still not opening day. But one look at the common wealth of nations and you see a list of countries that hold no sway in the current milieu. I am not sure what’s the fruit in competing against countries like Barbados, Belize and Botswana. Beats me! Oh wait. No, on second thought, we might still not be able to come on top of the medals table. It’s like calling your old bar buddies, from your blackjack days and treating them to three fortnights of fun and frolic in your backyard. And I sure the wife’s not happy at all. She wants you to focus on the rising prices and the unruly neighbour.

I was always of the opinion that we are not a sports country. To start with, there is very little support we get at home to play a sport recreationally, forget about sports as a career option. A lot of this stems from the preponderance of the parents towards pushing their wards to have a crack at the entrance exams rather than at an opponent or a team. Further our schools also see it as just a leisure activity, one ‘games’ period in a week, and behave no different from the authorities at home in their commitment towards sports. As a result, the two institutions which should act as the cradle of sports fail us.

Once into adolescence, we do take up sports, but again as a distraction to steer our mind away from back breaking homework we get from school. Or if mom gets too worked up because of our pestering she would ask us to get lost for an hour or two. Now, in the company of similarly challenged kids from the colony, we don’t really get the kind of exposure which makes champion sportsmen, but rather fist fight and abuse leads us crawl back into our homes. And as time passes it is not long before we stand at the cross roads of choosing whether it would be science or math, for bread and butter, and say our final goodbyes to the ground beneath our feet. The thinkers of our land suggest that talent needs to be discovered early on and nurtured through proper training and support all through. But in a land where the parents are discussing if it’s going to be Yale in the summer or Carnegie in the fall, even before the spermatozoa and ova have fused, leaves no space for the little guy to play around once he is out and about.

Next in line is the attitude of the sponsors or the so called marketers of professional sport. They spare obscene amount of money for the Dhoni’s and the Sachin’s but not a thought for that unknown guy in the track and field event. Actually, I don’t know his name either and that’s because the sponsors never streamed him live into my living room. But let’s not spill all the venom on the sponsor because they only feed us what we love to gorge on. Which puts us in the spotlight and the million dollar question is - why don’t we like anything other than cricket? I know its clichéd, but so it is true that we don’t like any other sport so much, to watch or play, and if the marketers are only keen to sponsor what we like and if supposedly with their support we can bring about the change in the state of other sports in the country, this question is very relevant. I am of the opinion that, universally, contact sports (boxing, rugby, football, basket ball) are more popular along with ball and stick ones (baseball, cricket, tennis) and followed by the speedsters (F1). I am not saying that this is the norm because I contradict myself by pointing that Judo as a contact sport, snooker as a stick and ball game and MotoGP as a racing sport has not made us as crazy as the previous examples. I am trying to deep dive into our psyche to understand that if given a chance, to watch or play, why we end up choosing boxing and not judo, cricket over long jump and F1 but not swimming. Why some sports will make us spend top money to buy tickets and some we don’t want to watch even if it comes free on national television. If we get answers to these questions we can steer the big guys to focus on the bottom feeders and give them some premium treatment.

Somewhere in all those questions lies our answer to why we languish, if not at the bottom, of the medals table at every international meet. And rather than understanding the basic psyche of our outlook towards sports, how many of us would really watch the games on television let alone go to a stadium, we have brought home a jamboree, which is more about showcasing our organizing skills rather than our sporting prowess. And now looking at the graft charges, sub standard stadiums and incomplete infrastructure I am not sure how many medals will we get even for our organizing expertise. The ideal alternative would be to spend this money in upgrading the sporting infrastructure, starting from schools but not ending with SAI. But again swanky stadiums and hi-tech equipments will not bring the best in us until we get our motivation towards sports right. Somewhere in us lies a gene which abhors the thought of venturing into professional sports and is satisfied with a nine to six job, which pays handsomely enough to buy a flat screen and DTH and enjoy a game of cricket at home.

It’s good news that the guys in Delhi have said no to the Asian Games in 2019. Hopefully the inflation will not take away the gains from this move by then.

Happy Birthday Who

When I said missing you is part of life and you said meeting me is part of your life my stupid brain was doing some analysis. Missing is not expensive but meeting definitely is with our present state. So I was not expecting you on campus on a tuesday night and there you were asking me to leave every work and join you for a chicken biriyani at Olives without anything ( luckily i had my toothbrush). I was baffled because the planner came unplanned and you looked different. I dont think we ever enjoyed our planned trips as much as we did these 2 unplanned days.

Marriage does funny things to people and I think I have acquired nausea, crying and head aches as a result of this venture. You keep worrying as to why I have nausea early mornings but what you dont know is I only have them when I am with you and when I know you are leaving the next day. I dont like coming to the airport when you leave and I never did it before and you thought I was strong and never cried when you left. You tore my facade yesterday and I admit I have cried every time but only after you left. I have had co passengers watch me all the time wondering if I was going for a funeral. And when I tell them I have just left my husband behind they smile making me wonder what was funny.
Despite so much love how shallow we are when it comes to trust. You remember I tried walking with my eyes closed holding your hand at Beasant nagar and could not close my eyes for long . A part of me told me it was foolishness in peak hours of traffic while another part told me to learn to trust and i realised learning to trust is not so easy. And I realised life is full of distractions and sometimes we lose trust in the turmoil. But we will not do that exercise again.

The ride to main gate in that small bus was filmy I was the only girl clinging to a man and women stared at me wondering why I was hugging you and I was irritated coz I had space to stand and at some point of time I felt I would tear your shirt each time the bus hit a bump. That was some ride. would have given you goosebumps 8 months ago nahi marriage stole away all those pleasures :(

You amaze me at times like you did when you told me you met my ace enemy and you sounded cool about it, when you are excited with me when I acquired my friend's stamp collection, when you hunt down the snack bar at MSB while I invigilate to experience a part of campus I have been to, you amaze me.

I wish I could list down the endless words you invent each day and the narcissistic comment you make( tumhare poore khandan mein mujhsa handsome koi hai :0 ). Your popularity among my female friends does worry me not coz I am jealous just that I dont want them to make you and archetype and make a biggggggggggggg mistake choosing some guy like you :)

I just wish I could see you standing outside my hostel shy to enter and sit among all those girls in the lounge. I wish to see those eyes twinkle when you take sigmu and kunjoose and play with them. And I wish you give me a shock of my life again by flying down unexpectedly and tell me you want to eat a chicken biriyani from Thiruvanmiyur at 10.30 pm.

But I dont ever want to stand outside the airport and see you through the glass and feel like a ghost not being able to touch you. When you called me and we stood looking at each other with our phones and placed our hands on the glass it was so painful i could just run to you but the security would not allow me and you were right in front of me yet so far away. I wish I had some supernatural powers like time travel, or invisibility , dream travel but that's too much of science fiction.

I know I met you yesterday morning but I cant stop missing you can I?

Hmmm could not post anything on your birthday and I am not happy with the scraps all the girls sent you. This is my birthday post for you. May all your dreams come true ( offers involving other women are invalid)

I, Me, Myself

I am finding it difficult to keep my eyes open. I can feel heaviness on my eye lids; as if someone's trying to shut it by force. But I won't give in that easily. Between these moments of fighting with the unknown enemy I could see that the surroundings feel a little eerie. It's not the darkness; I have been in darkness before, but it's this silence which I have not felt before. I try to move my body but there is no response. I try to shout but I do not even hear my own voice. I am starting to get worried. Soon I start hearing voices, though they feel like coming from very far. Suddenly there is light coming from a corner, as if a door has been opened. I can now here the voices much clearly but there are too many people speaking at once. I try to move my head but I feel a weight holding it down. I am now able to make out that I am lying on my back, not on something, but may be suspended in mid air.
Then slowly I am being moved into the light, by the people around me. It's now that I am able to recognize those voices and see their faces. They seem to be lifting me up but I don't feel their hands touch my body. I feel of an invisible space between them and me. It takes time to come to terms with my surroundings and I suddenly feel a knot in my stomach. I have seen a morgue before but not from where I am lying now. What does this mean? My heart skips a beat. I try hard to move my body, a hand, a leg, a finger but they are beyond my control. I feel like a prisoner of my own skin. It doesn't take long for me to realize that I am in a casket and that explains the separation between me and the others. Suddenly I see my father coming forward and looking straight at me, expressionless. I scream out but the voice again just dies in my head. He closes the casket and I am in darkness again. I could not even get a proper look at him; he seems devastated.
I feel strongly about my father. I have been an obedient child to him. Not because I am one but because he is a hard taskmaster. Our relationship is more driven by fear than out of love. I would usually try to stay out of his sight and only approach him if it was about school or about money. It was a matter-of-fact kind of relationship. I am the subservient son and he being the omnipotent dad. He was directing my life; through the script of do’s and don’ts, with very little scope for re-takes.
My thoughts break with a question; am I dead then? What happened to me? I don’t feel hurt anywhere. I don’t remember anything fatal happening to me. Before I could go deeper, looking for answers, the casket opens and light floods around me. I am at home now and I can now hear wailing sounds. I see the fan rotating above me, same as how it used to when I used to lie on my bed. Mom comes and wipes my face. I yearn to feel her touch but I can’t. Something invisible still blocks my senses. I want to touch her hand but I can’t move an inch. She has always given comfort in times of pain. She is like fireplace on a snowy day; warm and accommodating. She is embodiment of God himself, who could take away all my sufferings and fulfill all my wishes. She knows all my little needs and my big wishes. She would look right through my eyes and know that I have been naughty. There is nothing to hide from her. If there’s a bullet for her I will happily take it. Then I want to ask her - what happened to me? And as if she heard my question she starts to weep heavily. I always knew there was a deeper link between us.
My brother grabs her; stops her from falling over in my casket and consoles her. He has always been our support system. From our ‘I hate you days’ to ‘brothers in arms’ years to ‘friends for ever’; the journey has been wonderful. He’s like a bridge between two river banks; providing a solution, dependable and resourceful. We always talk on stuff and share ideas. Sometimes like mentors; often like novices. Friends? May be more; there is so much we share in common that often I feel one with him.
I hear a prayer being read out. There’s no mistaking that it’s for a dead person. My ears want to listen to it but my mind won’t agree that it’s for me. Then I see an apparition standing next to my family. It looks exactly like her. Somewhere in this confusion I had forgotten about her. She is the one with whom I was to spend the rest of my life. We came together as a whirlwind, she then set the sails right and took control of our lives. She had everything to give: love, life, laughter, courage, calm, care, time, temperament and trust. My eyes fill up, but only in my mind. She comes closer and touches me. I feel her, on my face. She embraces me. I feel her. How? Is she also? She looks at me and blinks her eyes and assures me. She smiles, just a little. I smile back. We are finally at peace. No distance separates us now. Alas we are together!


The casket is closed and there is darkness again. I am being lowered into my final resting place. I feel my eyes becoming heavy again; I don’t fight this time and let it close. I am at peace with myself now.

Animals are beautiful people

The new entrant in our hostel i have christened him Kunjoose :P thats my nickname . Ain't he cute?????? He is playful and a mama's boy and lovesssssssss chocolates. That's Kunjoose

Candid Confessions

He said I am scared of being lonely and I am a loner

You would never find me alone for I am always in the world

But I was never of this world, and I knew I was a misfit

Perhaps it is because I am estranged from my loved ones

The ones who know me yet do not for they are of this world too

I prefer being hideous

when things are perfect I withdraw into the oblivious

I fight a lot and argue even more but

what my friends you do not know

is that i buy everything you say and get hurt

though I never show it

They have the power to hurt me and

yet they beleive I am invincible.

I still cannot sleep without lights on and

I am scared of the darkness.

I love animals more than human beings

and my books more than my friends.

I can be very demanding and nasty at times

and I am labelled possessive.

And why am I writing it here?

because its my catharsis and

I am supposed to be venting here

rather entertaining readers alone.

Yeah I am melancholic but we all have the right to be so.

What will I gain by not writing it here?

A pain noone can fathom and bear

What do I gain by writing it here?

I can soothe my soul and wipe my tear

Fallen have I many a time

But never felt so hurt and grime

Worthless I feel not worth a dime

Something's changed forever and this is no rhyme

Someone has broken my heart and I can tell no soul

Someone has changed me forever and I am no whole.

I am a teacher

For those who love being with children, who love teaching them and learning from them. For those whom patience is more than a virtue. An excerpt from Mr Done's 32 third graders and one class bunny.

I read Charlotte’s Web and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory every year, and every year when Charlie finds the golden ticket and Charlotte dies, I cry.
I take slivers out of fingers and bad sports out of steal the bacon. I know when a child has gum in his mouth even when he is not chewing. I have sung “Happy Birthday” 657 times.
I hand over scissors with the handles up. My copies of The Velveteen Rabbit and Treasure Island are falling apart. I can listen to one child talk about his birthday party and another talk about her sleepover and another talk about getting his stomach pumped last night – all at the same time.
I fix staplers that won’t staple and zippers that won’t zip, and I poke pins in the orange caps of glue bottles that will not pour. I had out papers and pencils and stickers and envelopes for newly pulled teeth. I know the difference between Austria and Australia.
I plan lessons while shaving, showering, driving, eating, and sleeping. I plan lessons five minutes before the bell rings. I know what time it is when the big hand is on the twelve and the little hand is on the nine. I say the r in library. I do not say the w in sword.
I put on Band-Aids and winter coats and school plays. I know they will not understand the difference between your and you’re. I know they will write towhen it should be too. I say “Cover your mouth,” after they have coughed on me.
I am a teacher.
I examine new braces and new blisters and holes in mouths where teeth have just fallen out. I can spell vacuum. I know the magic word.
I wear four-leaf clovers and dandelions in my shirt pocket that have just been picked with love at recess. I pray for snow days. I pray for Stephen to be absent.
I spend Thanksgiving vacation writing report cards, Christmas vacation cleaning my classroom, and summer vacation taking classes on how to relax. I know the difference between a comma and an apostrophe. I can say “apostrophe.”
I buy books about cats and dogs and sharks and volcanoes and horses and dinosaurs. I turn jump ropes and am base in tag. I am glad you can only get chicken pox once.
I correct pencil grips and spelling mistakes and bad manners. I push in chairs all the way, push swings higher, and push sleeves up while children are painting. I can touch the paper cutter.
I own one suit, two pairs of shoes, and eight boxes of graham crackers. I have every teacher mug that Hallmark ever made and every Save the Children tie too. I say, “Use two hands!” when they carry their lunch trays. I say, “Accidents happen,” after they did not use two hands.
I wear green on Saint Patrick’s Day, red on Valentine’s Day and my bathrobe on Pajama Day. I poke straws into juice boxes and untwist thermos lids that are too tight. I unpeel oranges that are too tight too.
I sign library passes and yearbooks and new casts. I attend soccer games and Little League championships and funerals for guinea pigs. I answer to both “Mom” and “Dad.”
I am a teacher.
I hope April Fool’s Day is on a Saturday. I blow up balloons that will not blow up. I always blow the whistle too early at recess.
I can borrow and carry very fast. I give them more time to answer six times eight than two times three. I never end a sentence with a proposition. I know what a preposition is.
I draw stars and smiley faces. I say, “Take over,” in four square games when I was not looking. Once I forgot eight plus seven.
I know when to say “can” and when to say “may.” I have worn green marker, red paint, yellow chalk dust, glue stick, and glitter all on the same day. I hate glitter.
I always begin a sentence with a capital and end it with a period. I always walk in line. I always lose at arm wrestling.
I leave “shugar” and “vilets” misspelled on their valentines. I know all my continents and all my oceans. I tape pages back into books. I can find the end of the new roll of Scotch tape. I call on children whose hands are not raised.
I know that colonel is a really hard word to read, and so is doubt and so is gauge. I know that kids will read started, when it says stared. I have spelled outbecause and beautiful and friend six million times.
I am a teacher.
I look both ways before crossing the street. I save balls stuck in basketball hoops. I have given 842 spelling tests and have written “Have a Good Summer!” that many times too.
I collect milk boxes and coffee cans and egg cartons. I know all my times tables. I can type without looking. I know that two pretzels do not equal one Hershey kiss.
I can make a telescope out of a toilet paper roll and a totem pole out of oatmeal boxes. I can make snowflakes out of coffee filters and a space shuttle out of a Pringles can too.
I know my notes because “Every Good Boy Does Fine.” I know my directions because I “Never Eat Slimy Worms.” I know all my planets because “My Very Elegant Mother Just Sat Upon Nine Pickles.” And I can only say my ABCs if I sing them.
I fix watchbands, repair eyeglasses, and search for lost milk money after freeze tag. I know when their fists will make a rock and when they will make scissors.
I know when a child does not understand. I know when a child is not telling the truth. I know when a child was up too late last night. I know when a child needs help finding a friend.
I am a teacher.

Animals are beautiful people

I was waiting for the next pic and look what I found ? My friend Tessy called me to her room frightened, seeing this humble being. Frankly I was confused too.We could not understand how he/she got in. I even frightened her more saying scorpion would have laid eggs somewhere in her room. Thankfully she did not step on it and get bitten which was quite possible coz we open our doors in darkness.

I consulted 'Who' coz he claims to be an expert with snakes and scorpions. He suggested to take best pics possible before thinking of killing or throwing the scorpion away. I smiled remembering love for animals is something we have in common. But Tessy was hysteric and we had to murder this soul lest he bites someone in the darkness. I guess this corner of our hostel is jinxed we got a snake once and now a scorpion. Will post the snake's pic next time.