Monthly Archives: April 2014

My 8th and 9th Grade English Teacher

Personal

My journey in the world of English began with her in grade 8. I still remember the first ever class I had with her. The first thing that caught my attention was obviously her beauty. But by the end of the class I was equally drawn in by her intelligence. And as and when I attended more of her classes, I found that there was more to her than just her looks. She is someone who makes people reconsider their typical thoughts that beautiful women aren’t intelligent. She changed that mindset of mine too. I truly admire her for the person she is. I remember how everyone in class used to get really annoyed when she wouldn’t punish me for not completing my homework. If I remember right, she hasn’t ever punished me in the two years that she taught me. Hmm…looks like someone has a favourite! Even though she isn’t officially my assigned teacher anymore, I still learn from her in every conversation that we have.

She walks into class gracefully, taking small careful steps. Placing her books on the teacher’s desk and crossing her arms, she clears her throat softly to get everyone’s attention. What she doesn’t realise is that all of that is completely unnecessary, as the moment she set foot in class, everyone’s eyes had turned to her immediately. Her attempts at being stern go all in vain, as everyone looks at her, totally dumbstruck by her mere presence. Her flawless radiant skin and eyes that shine with dignity and intelligence captivate everyone. Tucking a light strand of hair behind her ear, she waits for the class to settle down. Introducing the topic of discussion to us, she waits for a response from our side. Occasionally she plays with the ends of her shawl and comments on the weather as the class slips into a deep trance looking at her spellbinding exquisiteness. Resplendent in even the most simplest of attires, she is no doubt one of the most stunning yet distinguished women in the world. A slight smile peeks out of the corners of her mouth as she suppresses a soft giggle and rolls her eyes at the vague remarks of a few boys. She tolerates up till a limit, but at the slightest rudeness, she points towards the door and sweetly asks the offender to leave. If he resists, she throws what seems like a mild form of a diva tantrum, and the boy leaves obediently, absolutely amused by the range of different expressions her face displayed in a very short period of time. Her sensible and highly sagacious thoughts are understood by very few, and she finds humor in the faintly bewildered expressions of the few who were too lost to even hear what she said. “I hope you’re straight” she jokes when a girl passes a flattering remark on her, and the student is left in her thoughts wondering about the same. A sweet blush forms on her cheeks when someone compliments her as she turns around to leave the class.

The Uncommon Common Sense

Social

A long time back, certain parts of sense had been categorised into a separate group called ‘Common Sense’. What those people probably meant was ‘ideally meant to be common’ sense or maybe ‘commonly absent’ sense. Because ironically, the so-called ‘common’ sense is the most uncommon trait found in humans these days. To come across a person with common sense is like finding one of those highly endangered species of birds, as, when spotted others will point in amazement. Just like how certain animals and plants are fading away, soon common sense will be extinct too. Shortly, people who somehow manage to hang on to their senses in this harebrained world will be showcased in galleries and perhaps even museums. They will be like those magnificent pieces of art that only a selected few people can truly appreciate. They will be a part of a collection of rare artifacts.

Cursed are those people who are wired with common sense because they have to deal with everyone who doesn’t have it. Arguing with people who lack sense is like trying to get a cat to bark. It’s like trying to slam a revolving door. It’s like trying to remember exactly how your dream began. It’s like trying to look classy while eating chicken wings. I’m sorry this one is clichéd, but it’s like trying to put toothpaste back into the tube. In short, it is impossible. Absolutely impossible to convince them, persuade them, and try to make your point to them. They can’t make sense of anything, and no one can make sense out of them. The entire process of arguing with them is a struggle for the unfortunate sensible person. It’s like what people say – ‘Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or an idiot from any direction’.

Ever heard of those mirages that one stumbles upon in barren regions? You think you’ve uncovered a source of water to quench your aching thirst, but as you move closer you realise that there is not the slightest trace of water there at all. Some people are like those mirages. Looking at them you think that you’ve finally come face to face with a person who has sense, and the moment they open their mouth to speak, you become conscious of the false impression that you fell for.

I read this on a social networking site and it kept me amused for quite a few days – ‘Common sense is like a deodorant, the people who need it most never use it’.

SAM Strikes Again

Personal

“Walk?” one asks, and the other two immediately rise. Leaving their marked territory in the corner of the class, they take a look at the timetable. And before anybody fully understands exactly what is happening, SAM is out for a midday stroll around school. Just one fleeting glance inside the classes they pass by tells them that there is no replacement for them once they pass out of school next year.

They stumble down to the basement, laughing like a bunch of drunkards, and set their first target as the library. Ah, the library. A room filled with books (objects that two out of the Trio didn’t seem to have any relation with).

“Ma’am, can I borrow a book?” one of them asks as the other two wonder whether he even knows how to read.

“You wouldn’t by any chance have the Indian Constitution here would you?” another asks politely, with an innocent expression masking his inner mischievous self, as curbed laughter in the form of shameless sniggers comes from the remaining two.

The librarian glares at them threateningly as she musters all the strength that she has, to control her hands from strangling the Trio. And as expected (and as desired too), they get kicked out of the library ruthlessly. They roam around hopelessly bored when suddenly something catches their attention. An empty room. The music room. Setting their eyes determinedly on their destination, they take a short leisurely walk till there.

“Just the thing for lazy people like me, the keyboard. It does all the work itself, all I have to do is press a few buttons here and there” one says as she takes her place behind the instrument.

“What an instrument it is, the Harmonium. Alive with music rooted deep in its soul; it needs oxygen to function just like all living beings” he says, as he settles himself contentedly on the mattress.

“A wonderful instrument, the Guitar. Six strings and more than a million different tunes to produce from them. Place one hand for support on its slender neck, and use the other to strike or even beat the strings as per your whims. Why use two hands when you can make music using only one?” the other says, seating himself on a chair in the corner.

Vocalists by birth and each one a maestro in their own instrument, they begin with their music. Not a trace of harmony, no sense of tune and absolutely no presence of coordination, their music or rather cacophony resounds in the empty basement. And then all of a sudden, someone emerges from the shadows. The music teacher.

“Play something for me. Let me see how much you know” he says, stepping into the music room.

“We would love to sir, but with all due respect, we don’t want you to feel intimidated by our natural talent in music, so I think we’ll just leave” one says, as SAM steps out in glory and returns to class by taking the longest route possible.