My college bus....
I think this is my first funniest blog…. Actually my friends were pestering me to write about the spectacular feats I perform every morning!!..( Ishu & Blessy, I ve kept my word..)
This blog is dedicated to all those people who run behind their bus, chase the bus for a considerable distance and finally manage to board it and for those who somehow jump into the moving bus…

Every morning I need to catch my college bus at 7:25 (Really hard folks!!!L)… I never manage to reach the bus stop before time.. Its when the bus reaches the stop or mostly after it leaves the stop.. Unfortunately, my college bus has no stoppings after my stop, so I should either catch my college bus or board a private bus to college.. That also eliminates the option of chasing the bus.. But at times I ve tried even that.. Once I boarded my college bus when it was halted due to traffic.. It was actually a bridge,a NH with heavy traffic … Since the traffic was immobile, I got down from dad’s bike and walked to the other side of the road and got into bus , the conductor ,who didn’t notice me, was standing at the door..I was at the last step of the footboard and he was standing on the one above mine and the traffic had started moving.. . He turned and was shocked to see me and then moved to let me in.. My dad was staring at me from the other side of the road giving me a look saying “If ever u could manage to get ready some 5 minutes earlier……………” Even now, when I think of this incident, I burst into splits of laughter..

Every morning turns out to be an adventure for me… Every morning when im on my way to the bus stop I call my friend to ask which stop the bus has reached. At times, she would have taken leave and I ll be cursed for waking her up on a holiday.. Sometimes the bus would have crossed my stop but I ll call people thinking the bus has been late.. I ve got many “bulbs” for that also..
Sometimes I ll have to take a share auto from home to my bus stop.. To my horror, the driver will drive slowly, there will a problem with the engine, somebody will have a huge luggage to unload.. I ll have to cross all these obstacles and finally catch the bus to go to college.. You should definitely appreciate my “thrist for knowledge”.
Once I was on my way to the bus stop in a share auto, I was about to get down wen my friend told me that the bus has crossed the stop. So I had stop earlier and cross two roads( it’s a 3-lane bridge) and stand in the route the bus passes. I had a minute or so to accomplish this feat ( I would call it a feat!!)..
I got down from the share auto ,when an old lady, who was with me in the auto, held my hand. She wanted me to help her cross the road. If im unable to catch my college bus , I ll have to walk a long way to the bus stand to board a private bus and I ll definitely be late for class.. But she was a old lady and I couldn’t say no to her.. I pulled her and made her walk on par with my speed..The funniest part was that I was crying loudly to her that too in the middle of the highway..”ayyo.. paati .. sikiram.. college bus poidum..pls paati..sikiram..” I felt bad at heart but was helpless… When we reached the other end of the road I apologised to her and said that I was in a hurry to board my college bus. But she thanked me profusely and even blessed me. I finally boarded the bus that day and will never forger that paati’s smile.
Many such incidents have happened in these 3 yrs.. I have only a year more.. . I ll be missing all this fun.. I should thank our driver Baai for waiting for all of us when we were late.. I think later in life, these bus memories will be a part of the most relishable times I ve spent at college.

Inability....

I think writing is one way of expressing your inability to do things which you earnestly wanted to do. A writer's best works are those in which he gives vent to all his shortcomings. This is one such post. In the past two months , i have quite often realised that being a 20 year old, educated girl , i am unable to do certain trival things which i had ,so far, imagined to be simple. So this post is the outcome of a month-long anger on myself for being so incapable and dumb.

It was a sunny evening and i was on my way home from college. I had boarded a crowded bus and was standing. The bus was filled with people who were going to some rural area which was far beyond mine. An old , illiterate lady was seated near the place where i was standing. An elderly man entered the bus and started questioning the lady, he called himself a police constable. After few minutes he was literally abusing her and the entire bus was watching this scene (including me). There were few educated men but they didnt even raise a question. I wanted to tell the man to mind his business, but i was sure that he was drunk and so kept quiet. Suddenly people said that another bus had come and it would start immediately, everybody got off this bus and went to the other one. I didnt know what to do,many big burly men were just watching the scene. I felt that i could'nt do anything and uttered a silent prayer for that lady and got off the bus. When i told this to my mom, she suggested that i could have reported it to some lady pc in the bus stand and then come home. I could not forgive myself for such a cowardly act. Whats the use in me debating about "Liberty of women" , when i just let a poor lady to be abused right in front of me. It still pricks when i think of it.

The other day i had got down from my college bus and was waiting for my father. A little girl came to me asking for alms. The girl would'nt be more than four, she thought begging was some sort of a game. She didnt even look at me, her hands were outstretched for alms and she was looking elsewhere but she kept on murmuring something, probably few lines she must have memorised. I was just looking at her and when her murmuring was over , she bent down and touched my feet. I was completely shocked. Till then, she didnt even look at me n ask for alms. She did it as if it was some routine procedure, murmuring few lines and then touching the feet. Before I could rummage my bag for few coins, she spotted a car and ran after it. She just pressed her nose into the car window and ran from there as well. It was so pathetic. Though in dirty clothes and matted hair, she was a little kid who wanted to run in the streets, play with butterflies and gaze at the stars. I felt she was robbed off her childhood. There are many such kids in the streets and this girl left an indeliable memory.

I still clearly remember an incident in a restaurant when I was twelve.The cleaner there, a boy of ten, was wearing a torn shirt. I asked my dad to get my brother's shirts and give it to this boy. My father replied that he would be chucked off his job if we gave him something. He said its better that he gets three square meals a day. At that time the boy's mom had come to see him. She had left him in the restaurant few days back and since this was all new to him, she had come to visit him. But the boy was worried about his duty and replied her precisely. It was such a pitiable sight.I almost cried there. And even now, eight years later, whenever i see any child labourer only that boy comes to my mind. We wanted to help him but could'nt, even then our little help would'nt have solved his problem.

Whenever i think of all these incidents, it makes me realise that i ve got miles to go before i sleep. My schooling has instilled a deep sense of social responsibility and love for fellow beings. Though such incidents make me feel im incapable of helping my brethren in trouble, they also strengthen my conviction to make a difference. I sincerely hope that in future that i ll definitely make a difference ,in my own little way, to the lives of such little kids.

A Daughter's cry....


Female foeticide.... An issue which has always stung my feministic instincts. . To me, foeticide is an evil which has to be uprooted from the society at the earliest . Every child is a blessing from heaven, its full of promise and we do not have any right to take away its life. Such inhuman acts question our basic moral and ethical values. .
This is a little poem of mine on female foeticide...


"I was cozily cuddled up
Feeling the warmth of your womb
Unmindful of the fact that
It would turn out to be my tomb.

From a mass of tissue
Growing up each day with your “bon succour”
Into a being full of life
Least expecting the great disaster to occur.

A child is a blessing from heaven
A girl child, even more precious
Protecting it from all odds is your forthright duty
How then could you commit a sin, so atrocious??.

A land where womanhood is sanctified
Rivers being named after women
But the birth of a girl child,
Is still considered an omen.

Let not this evil prevail
Nip not a bud before it blooms
Strike foeticide at its roots
Lest our nation will fall to its doom. "

She....

Sunday... The day started with the serene and tranquilising atmosphere of the church. I headed home n buried myself in the day's issue of sunday magazine.The column by Kalpana Sharma on Page 3 has always been my favourite. Her writings have always unleashed a renewed spirit in me, inspired me to do something for discriminated women.She takes up a wide range of issues where injustice is meted out to women.

As I was pouring through the day's issue, i wondered about a common opinion, the women of our nation do not have much role models to emulate. True!!.. I thought about myself, many articles describing brave feats done by women have aspired me , but i ve never found a strong lady to emulate.

My grandmother was beckoning me for breakfast.As she laid the idlis on my plate, I looked up at her. There stood a woman, a strong woman... An epitome of greatness... I wondered how an uneducated, village-bred woman could have crossed so many hurdles single-handedly ,when educated, civilised women of today easily succumb to domestic struggles of life.As a woman, she has always had the guts to speak for herself and stand up against anybody, even her near ones, if she feels they are wrong.She has endured alot and has sailed through the losses of life with courage and perseverance.As I turn back the pages of her life, I see that she has exhibited patience, courage and endurance in its extremest degree.

Even now, at the age of 68, she is the same old strong granny, young in spirit and never settling for the least. Though well-rooted in the customs of the past, she has blended well with today's trend and has always been an eager learner, curious to know about the latest breakthroughs. She is even prudent enough to advise her son-in-law about investments.

To me, she has always been an inspiring granny,a second mother,supporting me to scale great heights. She has never forced her views on me, she believes my dreams and encourages me to pursue my passions.I have never experienced the slightest signs of gender discrimination from my grandmother which has been experienced by most of my friends .

"It's one of nature's way that we often feel closer to distant generations than to the generation immediately preceding us."

Most true... I realised that if we spend time with our grannies at home, we can easily understand the trials they have been through and how courageous they have proved themselves to be in such trying circumstances where cant ever imagine ourselves to be in. My friend's granny had given birth to her daughter in a bullock-cart. We trumpet that we lack enough women leaders , but we miserably fail to look at a strong woman in each of our home.Their tales have enough cure for all our wounds and would definitely invest a sturdy spirit in us.

"The history of our grandparents is remembered not with rose petals but in the laughter and tears of their children and their children's children. It is into us that the lives of grandparents have gone. It is in us that their history becomes a future." ~Charles and Ann Morse