His Story...

                     As I stood by the bridge across the Karapakkam backwaters, I heard blaring horns and felt blinding headlights. The evening traffic - people rushing to get to their homes, to their families. Out of the millions taking the Old Mahabalipuram Road home, there were thousands living in Adyar. Out of the thousands living in Adyar, there were hundreds who had families waiting for them. Out of the hundreds who had their families waiting for them, there was only one person who had a daughter who was bedridden with sickness with only months to live.

                     He had lost track of time while he was working. He needed the overtime for her medical expenses, but he needed to be with her to take care of her. His wife had passed away giving birth to this very little girl. That night still haunted him, but what terrified him was the thought that he was going to lose his daughter as well. As he rushed to the lobby so that he could swipe his card and exit out the front door, he realized that he had forgotten his phone in his cubicle. He glanced at his watch and decided against going back for it and went ahead, swiped his card and walked out. He shuffled the papers in his hands and put them in his bag. He fished for the key in his pockets for quite a while until he succeeded. His breath caught as he saw her picture in the key chain. He remembered how her eyes would light up as he walked through that door. He steadied himself, put the key into the ignition and mounted his bike - he needed to fill his tank again - but he was yet to receive his salary. Three more days to payday - he would take the bus for the next three days.

                    As he rode the bike onto the highway, all he could think of was his daughter. He had to leave her at home by herself every morning, asking the neighbour to make sure she took her lunch and her pills. He wished there were some way he could stay with her for the few months that she was going to live. A tear escaped the corner of his eye as he weaved his way through the evening traffic.

                    On the other side of town, a dark figure was stumbling down an alley. Had someone seen his face some other day, they would have said that he had a handsome face. Not today. Today his eyes were blazing red, his pain evident on his brow, his anger crystal clear in every move he made. He wandered aimlessly for a while until he realized he was right next to his car. He threw the bottle of vodka on the ground and smiled as it shattered into a million pieces. She had broken his heart into just as many pieces. Cursing himself for thinking about her again, he got into the driver's seat and started up the SUV. He knew not where he was going, he knew not why. All he wanted was to escape his own mind. 

                   His eyes clouded, he could barely see which road he had taken. He could almost remember his address, couldn't he? No he couldn't. He drove on and on, with nowhere to go. Until he was startled by a shout and the blaring of horns around him. He slammed the brakes and stumbled out of his car to see a man lying in a pool of blood a few feet away from his car, his bike fallen not far. Yanked into reality, he realized what he had done. He had driven through a red traffic signal. People were screaming at him and shouting for the ambulance. The man was choking on his own blood but was reaching for something. Looking away from the horrifying sight in front of him - at what he had done, he noticed something glimmering at his feet. It was what the man was reaching for. It was a piece of a broken key chain with a picture of a little girl. The picture of the man's daughter. He looked at the man with guilt burning him alive only to see his eyes close and his twitching arm fall limp by his side. 

                    To each one of us, something or the other may happen that kills us a little inside. But our life is not our own. It collides and entwines with so many other lives that one rash action can do some irreparable damage to us or to someone else. If I were to utter a word of prayer for every vehicle that speeds along the OMR, I would be praying all day.

                     Drive, but drive safe. Keep your head no matter how hard it gets, because there are people who have it worse. For them, drive safe. For the ones who care about you, drive safe.

The tears she cried...

She walked that empty, lonely road,
Dark enough for her to hide,
Her life's story, left untold,
She thought about and cried.

Nobody deserved to see her tears,
She did not let the world see,
Amongst the piling heap of fears,
She let her worries be.

As much as she feared trusting again,
She couldn't ignore her heart,
She'd rather face a new kind of pain,
Than let the past tear her apart.

Like venom burning through her veins,
Like a thousand stabs to the chest,
She could feel throbbing, piercing pains,
Her faith was put to test.

History may repeat itself,she knew,
Old wounds would hurt again,
The fact that they would never heal,
She learnt as she walked into the rain.

She trusted blindly one more time,
Just as she had before,
But this time if her heart broke,
There would be nothing left, no more....

From one home to another..

          Days of packing, weeks of planning and finally the day had come. I was going to leave the college hostel once and for all. It didn't really hit me until the day of. Until then, I was just going about with my work, glad that I was finally moving out. The potpourri of emotions I felt on the day, was overwhelming to say the least.
          First of all, I felt panic and fear. Fear induced by change, fear of a new place, new friends, new atmosphere. It was indeed incredulous. The next thing I remember feeling was sadness. Sadness that I would miss the hostel and its familiarity, the few friends I had made here and, oddly enough, the feeling that this was home. Speaking of home, I remember feeling a sense of deja vu, because this situation was eerily familiar. Three years ago, I had left my home, back in Ooty, to come to this very hostel in Chennai. 
          It was hard, I cannot deny that. It actually felt like leaving home, despite that fact that I hadn't made many lasting friendships here. Perhaps it was just that there were people who knew me and accepted me. Nevertheless, I was not going to back out of it - I knew that much.  So I went ahead and made that call to the taxi which arrived half an hour later; in what seemed like a very short time, I was speeding away from the place which had been my home for the past three years.

Change..

              
                The inspiration for this blog comes from desperation. Desperation to change the pitiful state of our country and the danger women face as they try to live their life. First, the news of the Delhi gang rape case, rattled the country. Protests and demonstrations were held in every part of the country. It wasn't to no avail. The special fast track courts were set up for hearing rape cases and the J.S.Verma committee's report was also reassuring. Many more women who had been victims of sexual violence gathered the courage to lodge complaints against the perpetrators. People began to think that perhaps there was a chance for the country to change.
                 Then came the news about the news about the brutal rape and mutilation of a five year old girl in Delhi. She was kidnapped from her house, raped and mutilated to be found two days later by neighbours who heard her cries. What is worse is that, there are allegations that the police offered to pay the family Rs.2000 to keep quiet. At the same time, a four year old was raped in a village in Nagpur and has sustained severe brain injuries. These children fought for their lives in hospitals due to the monsters who set out to destroy their life for their own pleasure. As protests and demonstrations continued, three teenagers were raped in different places in Delhi. This is what are country has come to.
                 Women, a decade ago, were held in the limits of their homes. They were afraid to step across their boundaries and to test themselves. They weren't safe then. In the present day, they are bold enough to step out of their homes and change the world. They aren't safe now. Leave alone women; children playing in the limits of their homes are not safe now.
                It is terrible to think that we are living in such a barbaric country where women aren't safe anywhere. I do not wish for more protection for women, because that isn't going to change anything; I do not wish for a miracle, because they do not happen; I wish for a change in the mindset of men, i wish for them to rise above this and be human; I wish for the world to be a better place, so that my parents wouldn't have to worry that I won't return home in the same state I left, or worse, not at all.
                

Chocolicious!!!

                Dark, velvety brown. Rich, sweet taste.  Intoxicating flavor. Irresistible scent. The one thing that can match the description - chocolate. One of the best things ever created by man, chocolate, is mouth watering to say the least.

             From childhood up to old age, there is barely a person who doesn't root for chocolate. Tempting children with chocolate to get them to eat or as incentive for completing their homework has been an age old habit of parents. Finding those boxes of chocolates hidden by mothers in cupboards and bureaus is not uncommon at all. Mothers, wary of their children getting more cavities than they can handle, try to limit the amount of chocolate they eat.

             Have you just gone through a break up? Try a cup of hot chocolate and a non-romantic movie; nothing can make you feel better. Feeling low? Bake a chocolate cake, ice it up and treat yourself, your spirits will soar in moments. Sweltering heat you can't bear? Get yourself a chocolate milkshake and you are good to go. Time to treat your friends? Nothing beats a cup of chocolate ice cream.


             From homemade to branded, from liquid to solid, chocolate is addictive. Popular as a valentine's day gift for women, chocolate is considered a woman's best friend. After all, it is sweet enough to mend hearts. As Sarah Kay says, there are just a few heartbreaks that chocolate cannot fix. When tension is building up between people, melt it down with some chocolate.
          
           May it be a thick chocolate mousse or a chocolate fountain, it is one of the things hardest to resist. Chocolate, whose history goes back to 1900 BC, is one of the most popular holiday gifts. Milk chocolate, dark chocolate, raw chocolate, semisweet chocolate, bitter chocolate are all very common kinds of chocolate.
          

           So, no matter what mood you are in. You need to feel better? Get yourself some chocolate right away, because, hey, it's chocolate!!

Too many reasons to be happy!

A walk in the rain,

A cup of ice cream

A bar of chocolate,

A winning team

A little child laughing,

A cuckoo singing,

Coffee beans grinding,

A new born crying,

A peacock dancing,

A meteor flashing,

Wonder all around us,

Feel joy surround us,

Breathe in the air,

It's beautiful there,

Sing from your soul,

Dream of your goal,

No reason to be low,

Smile, you will glow,

It's simpler than you think,

Can happen in a blink,

Just let your heart soar,

You'll be sad no more,

Your heart is lighter,

Your day, brighter,

Open your eyes and see,

How happy you can be.

The wrath of death...

Death... It is something that most people fear. It is something unknown. People are full of uncertainty as to what lies beyond. For more than just a few people, death is synonymous with pain and suffering. Death is something some people choose when they have no hope left. Death is an escape to some, while it is a punishment to others.

        I  had witnessed death. I had seen my grandparents die. I had seen them take their last breath. Yet, only in the past few days, did I see, what death can do to someone. I was very young when my encounter with death occurred. For this girl, that wasn't the case..

       She was one of the prettiest girls of the college. She had the sweetest smile and was very cheerful. This is why it was so easy to realize that something was wrong. She had circles under her eyes, walked like she had to put in all her strength to put one foot in front of the other and stared at walls while her dinner sat untouched in front of her.

       She bumped into me in the dining hall, startled as if she had woken up from a reverie. I asked her whether she was alright. She said she wasn't and that the reason was that her brother had passed away the night before. I didn't know what to say, I didn't want to upset her. I asked her though, how he had died. She replied, "Someone killed him" and walked away.

       Those words rang in my ears. To the police investigating the case, her brother was just another victim. To people, he was just another person who didn't make it in the world. To God even, perhaps he was just another of His creations. To her, he was her only family. I watched her mourn everyday. I watched her try to smile at people. I could do nothing. Even today, I saw her. But there was nothing I could do.

      When we care about someone, a part of us dies along with them. We take time to mourn. Our hearts take time to heal. She would heal in time, but she would never be whole again. Death had taken only one body, but he had also taken her soul along.

Give me some sunshine...

           We Indians, are born in a country known for its excellent academic structure. Education in India began centuries ago, when gurus used to teach their students in ashrams. From the Nalanda University to the IITs, India was always the first preference of students looking for quality education. Today, things have changed.
            Now, the number of students going abroad has increased when compared to the number of students coming to india for their studies. Statistically speaking, the number of students preferring universities abroad has risen by a whopping 250% in the last decade alone. This isn't with no reason.
            Universities established decades ago seem to follow the same syllabus established over half a decade ago. With the world developing at a fast pace, students do not get the exposure they need in their universities. Moreover the universities which do offer quality education present daunting challenges for admissions. For instance, one of the colleges at the Delhi University set its admission requirement to a cut-off of 100%. There also exists the issue of reservation of seats due to which college seats for the general category students become scant.
            Despite these issues students are willing to study in these universities, but the ultimate issue that breaks them down is the pressure they suffer. Pressure, not to excel in their field, but to achieve what is expected of them. Nowadays, colleges seem to care only about their reputation, their pass percentage, their position on the rank list of top colleges. This results in extreme pressure being laid on the students.
            Students who are extremely talented in one field may not be just as talented in another field. Colleges do not seem to see that. The staff forces the students to study well, to get a high grade point average and to give them the honor of having a university rank holder in their midst. The personal interests of the students are lost in this process.
            Extra curricular activities require a large amount of time and involvement. They cannot be pursued without the help and support of the teaching as well as the non teaching staff. If done so, these activities become a source of discouragement and humiliation to the student. When such events occur, any student may lose his determination in doing something he likes. Many opportunities are missed, many dreams shattered and many lives lost. There are more suicide cases in engineering colleges than in other colleges.
            Inspired by my own experiences and those of my friends, I put up this blog today. I find today's education system in most colleges of India nothing close to what it was a few decades ago. Despite my wishes to stay in the country for my higher studies and work, I probably will go abroad. I really hope that things will change and this country will be a better place for the coming generations to study in.

Breathtaking beauty....

                   On the eve of the festival of Holi, I left for my hometown, Ooty. Colleges didn't seem to be reopening any time soon, I reckoned I might as well spend the holidays at home. I didn't want to spend any time travelling, so I decided to take a flight to Coimbatore from where my father would pick me up. It was the first time I was taking an evening flight. It turned out to be one of my best ever memories.

                I wasn't one with take-off issues or landing issues; I’d booked a window seat and was completely relaxed as we took off. As the plane gained altitude, my eyes widened. To say the city looked beautiful would be an understatement. The lights and the traffic – the city was a sea of red and gold. The roads were lit up and to me they seemed like rivers of gold, slowly moving towards their own destinations. The beauty I witnessed had me overjoyed. The city looked like sparklers sprinkled all over the ground; beautiful as a bride, dressed to rejoice.

As the plane drew me further away from the city, I felt a smile spread across my face. I’d fallen in love with the city, yet again.

Of houses and homes....

                 When all hostel students were asked to vacate immediately,  I decided to camp at a relative's place. My stay here made me realize a few things. It had been a while since I'd spent much time at home. Even the holidays lasted not more than ten to fifteen days. Staying here for the past three days had initiated a new chain of thought in my mind. I did a little research and this is what I came up with.
                 The routine that households follow these days have made them similar to bed and breakfasts. With at least two members of the family working long hours and a few members being college students, it seems like there is no family time in this routine. IT company shifts vary a lot. These employees get home late at night, exhausted and sleep in late in the mornings. They wake up barely in time to go back to office. The little time they get before they crawl into bed at night, they spend on their computers, trying to have an online social life at the least. By the time they come home, the older members of the family are probably asleep. There is barely any contact between them, leave alone quality time to spend.

              Other working members of the family are burdened with their responsibilities and any idea they have of spending an evening with their kids is ruined by traffic jams and extra hours on the job. More often than not, people end up snapping at others solely due to the exhaustion they feel.
             Students, especially college students, have another tale to tell. Most engineering colleges work from 8.30 am to 4.00 pm. The time they spend travelling adds to their exhaustion. All they can do is crawl into bed as soon as they can. Students who try to take part in other activities find even lesser time to spend with their families. Sometimes, they just give up trying. Some may say it is all about balancing our life accordingly, but from what I've seen, most people don't seem to find that balance.
            I have seen parents try to stay up late just to find some time to talk to their children. I have seen children trying to help their parents out with their work in order to spend some time with them.It seems as if, day by day, homes have lost their essence. The essence of family and love, the time and space for loved ones; it is said a family turns a house into a home.
            The people living in the rural areas on the other hand spend much more time with the family. Often, most members of the family work together at the same place. They have no electricity in their homes but they light candles and lamps and spend time with each other.They have their meals together, they communicate and share their lives. The bonds they share are way stronger than any of us have seen. The effort they take to spend time with each other is inexplicable. They are family.

           We need to wake up and realize that our homes are turning into houses. The time we spend chasing our jobs and studies is not nearly as important as the time we must be spending with our loved ones. We need to make the effort to turn them back into homes. Because where we love is home - home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.

Us against the world...

               In my three years of stay at Chennai, this is the first time I have seen protests of this magnitude. This is the first time after the outrage related to the Delhi gang-rape, that the youth of Chennai have come together for a cause. I have been spreading word about the determination of the Tamilians to put together such rallies and protest to support their kin.

                When I spoke to some of my friends from other parts of the country, their reactions surprised me. One of them even said that they can’t consider this a big issue because our own PM was bombed on our own land because of it. It amazes me that the same country that came together and fought for the justice of a girl is now reluctant to fight for the justice of hundreds of innocent civilians. It amazes me that people think that just because a person assassinated our PM, his son being shot point blank is appropriate.

          Yes, the LTTE has shed a lot of blood, but does that justify the cold blooded killing of a 12 year old?The rest of India is closing its eyes and ears to the suffering of the Lankan Tamil people. I feel deeply disappointed that our fight for justice is solely our own.

                College students are still on strike, colleges are still closed and people are still dying. We need to stop more people from dying and we need to give the families of the dead some closure. Not by having Sri Lanka conduct its own investigation for human rights violation, but for all the war crimes committed and for genocide. The people who lost their husbands, mothers, children deserve more than what is being offered to them now. 

               I came across this link while I was looking for more information on the situation of Tamils in Sri Lanka. I must warn you, the content is extremely graphic. By the time I went through this link, my fingers were quivering.

                        http://www.countercurrents.org/vendhan100810.htm

 May their souls rest in peace. I urge everyone who reads this to make their best effort in bringing some peace to the families of these poor souls.

KCG Bazaar - the aftermath..

The Bazaar had come to an end, all our work had culminated into an extremely successful event. The weekend had gone better than we had expected. The stalls made a total profit of over Rs. 1,20,000 and a turnover of over Rs.3,50,000. Our satisfaction outweighed our exhaustion. As we left college, taking a good night’s rest was the priority.

I stepped into my room, freshened up and typed up the report for the Bazaar. The genius I am, I forgot to save it when I was done. I went out of my room to get myself some water, I tripped over my foot, landing on the floor with my laptop – which had turned off. In horror, I turned it on with crossed fingers hoping my work was still there. A big thanks to auto-save, my file was intact. Breathing a sigh of relief, I e-mailed it to Rosy ma’am and was fast asleep in minutes.

The following day was worse. I had to make myself wake up and drag myself to college. The only consolation was that all the other students involved in the Bazaar were also shuffling around the college like zombies. I was more than relieved when I was called out of class to settle some issues related to the Bazaar product stock. I made arrangements for the stock to be picked up from college. Since it was a drag to be in class after weeks, I gladly dealt with the issues. This improved my mood considerably.

When I returned to class, it took me all the concentration I could muster to pay attention. Being extremely active for over a month, it was very tough for us to remain idle. We did have the culturals, college day, hostel day and HYLC coming up. We didn't know that there would be a turn of events that would change that too. The issue with Sri Lanka was growing in proportion. That afternoon we came to know that Anna University was also closing all its affiliated colleges in protest. And with that began another story...

Despite all the tight spots we went through,I owe the success of the Bazaar to my mentors - Dr.Sumathi Poobal and Dr. Rosy Fernando and to my team - Varun, Hari, Ram, Paul and Arjun. All the time we spent for Bazaar, the meetings, the OD runs, the jokes and the fun. I couldn't have asked for a better team...

KCG Bazaar

                I was up early on the 16^th of March, 2013. Reason was simple, it was the Bazaar weekend!! I wanted to be at the stalls before anyone else, I wanted everything to be perfect. I checked on my team members and set off to the stalls. The stalls were all set and the shamiyana was also standing tall. I don’t mean to gloat, but the stalls looked really good. As I walked the length of the Bazaar, I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that something may go wrong.

At the mehendi stall

                Yielding to my gut feeling, I checked whether the stalls were provided as many power sockets and tables as were requested, whether they had enough table cloths and many such minor details. By and by the stall holders began to arrive with bags enough to fit a month’s utilities. I had them fill in their paperwork and handed them their ID cards. As I was doing this, the rest of my team arrived too. We blocked the emergency exits to prevent them from being used as entries and stationed volunteers at each point. What we failed to note is that the junior students wouldn't be able to stop the senior students from making rogue entries and that we should have stationed some seniors instead. But well, we learn from our mistakes.

                And then we opened sales. It was inches away from becoming a stampede. We had underestimated the crowd, but somehow, the stall holders managed the crowd very well. The day went on with more and more students filing in. The stall holders didn't get a chance to breathe and neither did we. We were practically running from one end of the Bazaar to the other solving minor conflicts (which could’ve gotten real ugly). The inauguration was done by Mrs. K. Saraswathi, the General Secretary of the Madras Chamber of Commerce and Industry. We accompanied her as she visited each stall and interacted with the students.

                After seeing over two thousand people walk in, the stall holders had recovered their investments and were looking forward to make some profits on Sunday. We weren't expecting much of a crowd on Sunday but we were pleasantly surprised - over five hundred people visited the Bazaar. The crowd included families and friends of the college students and the like. My team and I also found some time to shop and have some fun at the stalls.

                As the Bazaar drew to a close, it was time to pick the winners of the lucky draw. We had two five-year-olds pick four winners, two from each day. We also gave away gifts to every hundredth visitor. The volunteers were relieved of their duties, but they weren't just our college mates then, we had become good friends over the weekend.

                When we finally asked the stall holders to close for the day, I sighed in relief. It wasn't my gut that was telling me something would go wrong, it was just me being paranoid and for once, it was a good thing. 

KCG Bazaar – the “pre” events

E-Week was over. All the documentation for it was done, all the events completed, all certificates distributed, all finances settled. Now, it was time for the KCG Bazaar, again an initiative of the students’ entrepreneurship development cell of the college. Scheduled to be held on the 16^th and 17^th of March, we had precisely four weeks to plan and prepare for the Bazaar. The core team this time consisted of six people – Arjun, Hari, Varun, Ram, Paul and I. Arjun was our photography guy while Paul was our design guy. Hari, Ram and Varun were the doers and the thinkers of the team, so to speak, while I was the documentation girl.

               Phase 1: The word-spreading-and-meeting phase 

                  With the guidance of Dr. Rosy Fernando, our mentor and Dr. Sumathi Poobal, our vice – principal, we began our work for the bazaar. It started with us spreading word about the Bazaar and setting up meetings with interested students. This was easier said than done. Some students needed a nudge in the right direction while others needed a big shove. We arranged over three meetings with the students who seemed interested and showed promise. As each meeting progressed, more and more students enlisted for the Bazaar. The numbers swelled from a mere 50 to hover around 250. The students teamed up and began to prep for the Bazaar. 

                Phase 2: The we've-gotta-do-this-we've-gotta-do-that phase

                    The part where the students decide what stalls they want to put up and how they are going to procure the items for their stalls. Yet again, Rosy ma’am was there to help. While we were running all over the campus trying to get On – Duty slips signed for all the students (the toughest job of all) , Rosy ma’am would meet the students and talk to them about their ideas. She helped all the students and gave them a lot of suggestions to improve their stalls as well. Using the ideas and contacts they gathered, the students began to look for places to buy their products.

              Phase 3: The I'm-in-I'm-out phase

                The phase where some students back out and need to be convinced again that they are capable enough to put up the stalls. We faced quite a few of these cases and handled them quite well. We gave them some tips and examples; helped them organize their stalls and then they were set to go. Another part of phase three involved the sponsors. While some of our sponsors were very true to their word, some backed out at the last moment. They had to be replaced – this was not an easy task.

                The end of the beginning phase:

Somehow we scraped through phase three and came up with the final phase. The setting up, numbering and allotment of stalls. The location where the stalls were to be set up was changed due to various reasons and there were the usual issues that accompany any event that takes place in any institution. In spite of those issues, we successfully set the stalls up and had all the stall holders pretty satisfied with their stalls. It was indeed satisfying.

On the eve of 16^th March, we left the college after making all the arrangements for the Bazaar. We were to come to college before the stall holders did and stay longer than them. It was definitely going to be a long weekend, but we all hoped it would also be a fun and successful one. 

Sand in the Glass...

When your mind is full of pain,

You feel you can take no more,

The walls seems to be closing in,

But the loudest noises never go.

You wish you could disappear,

Or find a place to hide,

Where there’s no darkness, no fear,

But that’s a fantasy, you realise.

‘Coz, no matter how far you run,

The pain will one day knock your door,

All the things you have ever done,

They’re a pile of regrets on the floor.

                                                                  You wish you could turn time back,

                                                                  Return to what once was,

                                                                  But now you know it can never be,

                                                                  Because now, it’s gone forever.             

You can try to believe in wishful thinking...

                But the sand in the glass will keep spilling...

Sand in the Glass...

When your mind is full of pain,

You feel you can take no more,

The walls seems to be closing in,

But the loudest noises never go.

You wish you could disappear,

Or find a place to hide,

Where there’s no darkness, no fear,

But that’s a fantasy, you realise.

‘Coz, no matter how far you run,

The pain will one day knock your door,

All the things you have ever done,

They’re a pile of regrets on the floor.

                                                                  You wish you could turn time back,

                                                                  Return to what once was,

                                                                  But now you know it can never be,

                                                                  Because now, it’s gone forever.             

You can try to believe in wishful thinking...

                But the sand in the glass will keep spilling...