Skip to main content

Stories!

I pulled the fraying edges of the ribbon which held my knotted plaits together as I heard my teacher say, "The universe is made of atoms". I smiled unwilling to believe the fact. What did the atoms know of life, chided a thirteen year old in me?

Science classes to the rest of my friends were interesting, with all those atoms and molecules and rays and motion, they found diverse things in their platter. They would jump at the sight of the rays passing through the prism or gasp at the bubbly solutions gurgling in the chemistry lab and there I would stand, failing to take interest in any of those. At best I appreciated things  but my interest was always in those neatly stacked story books with luscious covers which the librarian would always hand over after removing those, he worried I could leave it dog eared.

How much I longed for those hours of library class which became rarer as we jumped towards higher classes. Science textbooks became bulkier enough to eat away those library hours and what was left off at the end was our grim looking science teacher harping over the fact to concentrate on studies. He would stress the last word unnecessarily to create an impact.

How much I longed to tell him that the universe was made of stories. Stories long and short, stories of you, me , everybody. Gripping tales which stemmed out of life. Stories that changed life each moment. stories that had pulse of their own. That it was okay to prioritise stories over atoms, dreams over the weighing scale of the physics lab. That it didn't matter at all to know how an apple hit Newton, that it was perfectly okay to take interest in art and music.

The bulky textbooks once overshadowed a friend of mine who today paints magic with her makeup brush, it could never understand the pain of my dancer friend who had to undergo the dilemma when she was made to prioritise studies over dance. Her ghungrus rusted along with her dreams.

With the result fever on, I don't want another kid to suffer the wrath which a thousands did. Do what you feel like doing, be it art, music or pottery. Let your work write your own beautiful story. More power to young souls!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Checks and balances of life!

I wasn't always who I am today. It took a lot of courage to break past my shell. Oscar Wilde  had once stated that knowing what you want to be in life becomes a curse because you invariably become that but not knowing is liberating, there are endless possibilities of who you can become. I too didn't know who I was going to be. Today, I realise it was liberating. I never knew i could find my voice some day. Now that I feel liberated,it becomes difficult to remain confined. We need to grow, evolve into better beings each day. We need to grow past the "checks and balances" of life. I remember Fuller here,  Fuller has asked us to be a part of a process of this evolving planet. He wants us to be "verbs" not "nouns"!  Here is a tale of an introverted me who knew not what to expect from life .  ....... I would talk less at school, not attend socialising events, avoid looking at stranger's eyes while on the road. In short, I wanted to be invisible to t...
Post a Comment
Read more

Uncovering whispers

Isn't it strange how love binds people who are polar opposites! I have always believed love to be a faith which grows deeper each day as it is based on trust and the ability to hold on just like the waves hold on to the sea. The story is about two love birds who got caught in the web of love. He resembles the morning sunshine, shy yet bold enough to fight past the night's gloom. A deafening silence engulfing his soul. She is a tempest who gave his silence a shattering jolt. And just when the word impossible could have defined the bond they likely could have shared, the word split itself into " I am possible!" and a possibly, "I am possible" love story took birth. What interests me is the way they stand together,  I have seen them fight, seen them suffer but that suffering has it's beauty of it's own where one cries and the other feels the pain (Okay, that was a cliche!) I was always attracted towards stories which had pain in the sense that it mad...
Post a Comment
Read more

Voice

A wail escapes from the bottom of my belly But as I part my lips, it escapes as a frozen breath Speak, the teacher demanded! A throbbing heart, I could hear it ringing deep. The world would trample you in its way, my mother sighed. She could see the bruises of the cane on my palms. Why couldn't you tell the answers when you knew it by heart? she wanted to know. But, Maa I did try..I did , I stammered. My tears choking my half eaten words She pulled me closer, wiped my tears and as she freed my hair from those tightened plaits She spoke of a rule which I was to abide by. You need to win over words, you need to make those words a game Ah I said, I do try but I have to struggle hard They ring in my mind but don't escape my lips She smiled at me and said you need to trust yourself! Ah, I said I would try. And I did try over these years But they still ring in my mind forming loops of their own And the moment I open my lips, they die And I try again from the start ...
Post a Comment
Read more