Hum Kaale Hain Toh Kya Hua Dilwale Hain

At times you hang me on the wall and at others I am made to stand on a pair of thin and steely legs. Some times your master leans over me and sometimes you hit me. Some stare at me while others ignore me completely. Ironically, after lightening up the learning minds I am dumped into darkness. Yes friends I am the black board.
My day starts with a routine cleansing of me and my friends-the benches and dusters. Here the dirty sweeper puts more dust on me than he removes.After this, we eagerly wait for the learned and the learners. Some students reach before time, while some are regular in being late. Sometimes it happens that after many days I see a new face sitting amongst his friends and listening attentively to his teacher as if he never missed any class.
During the class it is entertaining to watch the students. The one sitting at the back is an Abhinab Bindra in making; aiming accurately for the girls. The girls on the other hand who sit in the front rows make me feel uncomfortable; staring constantly at my dark face and feeble naked legs. But I like the one sitting on the right most corner. She is a fairy of never-land and I am the char (lie) of coal (land). Once she came very close to me. I tried best but could not help shivering. Her hands so soft, lips so red made me fall in love with her.The guys who sit in the front rows also neglect me completely. They are more interested in the chalk marks over me. Hence like other blacks, I am a victim of racial discrimination.
These days I am facing tough competition from various other mediums of teaching. The installation of projectors was a severe blow to my very existence.The students fell in love with the bright and fair projectors unaware of the fact that the projector puts them in dark and itself enjoys the light, while I keep my self in dark and brighten up their lives.
My best friends are the duster and chalks. I never mind the chalks scratching against my surface, though the duster immediately comes to my help, to softly remove the friendly stains left over by the chalk.
The class will end in some time. How do I know this!! It’s easy... when students stop looking outside, girls stop getting hit and there is a sound 'chhor do’, it indicates that time is over. Over the years I have learned this word and these days I too join them in unison...'chhor do sir'.

FAIRER SIDE OF FAIRER SEX

While walking through the road along the girl’s hostel I never miss to take a glance at the female fortress. The desire to know the unknown is strong. But in our quest for the darker side we often miss the fairer side of the fairer sex. Why care for the other side of the moon when the side facing us is still an enigma.

The most common thing on the campus is romance. Some day you meet her by chance. Few days after, she glances at you. Next she smiles at you. This is enough to convince you about her feelings and makes you eager to dash into the realms of friendship and hopefully love. By the time you are made to realize that those looks were ordinary and her smile was because of the fact that it cost her nothing, it’s too late. You sink in grief while she gains in attitude.

Next are some girls whose taste changes with season. During hill ‘ffair, the bhangra guy dances his way into her heart, kicking out the guy who had won her by that magnificent goal in the recently concluded football championship. But this dancing dude is unaware that as the exams will approach, the topper of the class will succeed in making her heart his library and her text messages, his study material.

But then we also have girls who are true friends. They love to laugh along with you; they trust your words and your actions. Your small efforts to bring smile on their faces are enough to make them feel important. They don’t expect costly gifts to remain friends. No matter how cacophonous you sing the purity of friendship adds melody to it. Their eyes gleam at your sight and this friendship gets stronger as semesters pass by.

THE TEACHING BEAUTY

friends most of you would have guessed whom this write up refers to ...others can keep guessing ...:-)

Imagine is his catch word. While teaching he takes us to places as far off as kanyakumari and sometimes also like to roam in space. His teaching is not bound to his assigned subject, but traverses wide areas of engineering and science. At times we are in doubt if we are sitting in the right class.

When in class his exceptional body movements make things easier. He has his own unique style of teaching through dancing moves. He is fond of bhangra and this dominates his teaching style. He is kind to the board and chalk. He makes use of the power point presentation or if ever feels the need to write, prefers sms script.

He has got an innovative way of assigning home works. The assignments, usually group activities don’t have dead lines. These have shift lines, which keep on shifting from one date to another. Sometimes these encompass two semesters.
His generosity in awarding marks was well known until recently he decided to change his marking scheme causing much pain and grief to the students.

Students who have bagfuls of luck with them get to work on a project under him. This involves a trip to a near by sub (hill) station, free tea and coffee sessions during work and complete freedom to bunk work. The beauty lies in his augmentative traits which keep on pushing students to think for that extra mile which if they cover can make them famous however no one wants to walk those extra ‘Zarry’ miles.

Gossip Mongers

It is difficult to trace the beginning of the phenomenon called gossiping .So far as my memory goes, I have been a witness to this from my early child hood .In fact I have learned the lessons in gossiping during childhood itself. Growing in a joint family, I used to listen to the banter of the women in the house and later when I learned the word chatterboxes it became easier for me to relate to them. In the evenings sitting with the vociferous men, I used to watch, how each one of them tried to express their shrewdness in their field of interest .Their discussion unlike our parliament always ended on a positive note. This was perhaps because no two persons ever spoke on the same topic, all had their own area of interest .In case of clash between interests, interests’ could be replaced but not members of the gossip club.

The beauty of the gossip club is that it is formed informally. There is no need to hold general houses to motivate people .Once people come to know of the existence of such group they would come flocking in groups. It induces instant interest amongst one and all. And once a member you would enjoy every moment of togetherness.

The effectiveness of gossips is indisputable. Discussions are meant to be confusing, but gossips lead to clarity in thoughts and increment in knowledge. Though this appears to be a leaderless group with no hierarchy, but such phenomenal success has to be attributed to some leader. This person is sole responsible for the establishment of this group. He begins the process by including people who are glib talkers. The hidden leader sees to it that the members care the least for their time. To this he may even remove all the watches from the venue. He knows how to drive out the positive fears which keep everyone of us on our toes. Such fear is instantaneous, and the leader knows this .So whenever he sees boredom setting in and members drifting to their rooms, he uses taunts, challenges and some times even physical force to keep them from moving out.

How ever the gossip club is a true entertainer. Here you can laugh your perils out which otherwise keep troubling us. We share each others joys and sorrows and this helps in curbing darkness from our live and bringing in light. Just join it as it promises to drive out our tensions and fills us with enthusiasm and life to face the life in its stride.

life in a metro

We have a government but no governance

We have a system that has long stopped functioning

We have a police but no policing

A judiciary that delivers injustice

The thread can never end

We are living in an insensitive society where self outweighs all mass. The sphere of influence shrinks not in centimeters but inches. Insecurity is a common feeling amongst all human beings and the irony is that humans have laid the foundation to this stony wall which segregates human beings into rich poor, oppressed privileged, and haves and have-nots.

Few days ago, while commuting in a dtc bus, I experienced this insecurity. A fellow passenger was being roughened up by the conductor for whom indecency was his greatest asset. The abusive words need no mention and the situation was nearing physical abuse. But none of the passengers cared to interfere. In fact no one even looked at them, fearing they would get inflicted.

I was sitting by the side of the window and kept glaring outside acting aloof. The bus was packed with no space left to breathe; the passengers were forced to face the wrath of commuting. Even this didn’t stop the conductor from allowing more passengers to board the bus. With no space left to accommodate them the conductor called people to provide some leg space, to which one of the passengers denied and that led to the episode. The hero had to pay for his heroic instincts and we got awarded for our cowardice. I felt secure and safely seated in the bus as I saw the conductor pushing that roadie on to the road.

In a similar way, everyday people unaccountable face ruffians, and the onlookers (indifference arising out of fear) keep silent.

To all such onlookers I leave here, with this message,

“Next turn is yours”.

Class-ifying

Individuality is distinct. So when we talk of 55 odd students we mean 55 individuals. Each unique, each different, yet together they are a class. Amidst this difference, exists, some similarity which cements strong association amongst students.

What are these similarities and can we classify them? Such things constantly ponder me and what follows is my humble response.

The group which attracts instant attention is, of the students who sit at the back. Usually this unit comprises of people with gelled hair, funky T-shirts, and drooping eyes deprived of sleep. They are eager to discuss, however their subjects of discussion are counter strike and other things but not books. They disturb all with their chit chat and when objected, they act innocent. They are the first to leave the class and last to come in. Their presence does not make any difference to the class but their absence does. They proudly call themselves as members of the back benchers’ society (mbbs).

Enough of the big brothers. Let’s now step down a few levels to the first row. Next group is of students who sit in the front row. These are the first to come in and last to leave. Their usual attire- heavy specs, bulky bags, thick copies -thicker books and to top it all a set of pens- green, black and of course blue. They keep their eyes fixed at the black board and are quickest in pointing mistakes of the teachers. Their hands rise frequently; sometime to answer and sometimes to enquire. They study, study and only study. Responsible for undue lengthening of the period, at times, they have to face the burnt of the proxy kings.

The third group likes to sit in between the front and the last rows. These people have one thing in common. Each of them has something to hide. Some hide novels, some sudoku sheets, some their empty refills, some empty notebooks. Some hide unfinished poems, some emotions, some their mobiles and some hide their shame. With heads held low and fear in mind they play this hide and seek game with the teacher. At times the teacher too sits in these rows to hide his limited knowledge.

The fourth group is unique as it is comprised by the students who do not form any group. They sit alone in the class and they have a world of their own. They will enter the class in time or late and if in good mood they might even bunk the class. Their limited interaction with others, limits the knowledge about them. They can be found roaming alone in the campus. They too sit in the middle rows and hide themselves and their loneliness.

It will be unfair to the fairer sex if they are not there in the list. Girls of nit hamirpur are not from Venus, they are from PGH. Girls elsewhere are known to be chatter boxes. But here they have opted to be silent bombs. They explode at times but never chat. Jealous is a term synonymous to the girls; however here they can be found cuddled together with their lot. Beauty is to girls as intelligence is to boys. This however is not true in this case. Here it is rare to find both.

hostel lyf

Carefree life is a privilege which the workaholic will avoid even in the wildest of their dreams. But some long to have such kind of life, where they have got no assignments, no responsibilities and no one to question them. They get what they desire at the slightest effort. They have the latest facility available and life is completely cool. Then there are some who live life their way. It can be anything, music, sports, girls, food, studies, movies, computers, or even gossiping. If they are into it, nothing stops them from doing what they like. Any guesses, where do we get to see such diverse species?

Hostels! Obviously. These welcome us to an amalgamation of cultures. The activity as well as inactivity is worth observing. One gets to see here, an environment of opposites, Silence and din, rock and soft, drunkards and ascetics, cigarette and incense sticks, theists and atheists, optimists and pessimists. One can go on and on, endlessly describing the ambience of a hostel. Away from the plains and heat, in these hills we learn the lesson of life i.e. to adjust, accommodate, and adapt to the circumstances.

Facing the heart

Face is the mirror of heart. But not many people listen to their heart. It is the mind which thinks and it is seldom right. When bonding of hearts clash with boundaries of mind it becomes difficult to take decisions.

Face is the mirror of heart and when body movements compliment the face, what should be the response of the two people involved …should they succumb to the morals of practical life or should they allow their soul to take charge, neglecting the prohibitive vibes emanating from the mind.

Face is the mirror of heart. It is reflective of how good one is at heart. Face gleams if heart feels happy, frowns when gloomy. The rosy cheeks tell that the heart is beating for someone. Fiery eyes signal hate. When there is a heart break, the face weeps. When the heart feels good, the face wears a smile.

Face is the mirror of heart, though sometimes, the differences arising out of the clash between the mind and the heart lead to deceptive looks. You try to laugh aloud but the still eyes say it all. It is human to fabricate a false laughter and humane to be what you are.

Face is the mirror of heart. The heart can pump life but can’t think. The mind can think but can’t pump life. Making a choice is difficult.

This is dedicated to someone who is liked by all and loved by one.

Don’t think, listen to your heart.

Adieu