confessions

I havent posted anything worth while for quite sometime, so thought why not kill my boredom by blogging.

The other day I went to the beach with my friend, which brought back many memories of school life.Those memories good or bad never get washed off from one's mind. As I was coming back home in my scooter I was thinking about this one very embarassing experience I had, during my school days.

This was during the annual day , otherwise called "parent's day" in school where all the mom's and dad's await to see their chilren perform on stage. The preparation for this great show begins a month in advance. It was a tradition my school followed that made it compulsary for each student to take part in atleast one play. There were many plays in hindi, tamil, english, sanskrit. There was a dance drama and even an orchestra too , and those who were more musically inclined preferred to go for those.

It was during this time that I fell ill with fever and couldnt attend school for about two weeks. After two weeks I found out that I had been assigned a role in the Hindi play. I was very excieted as two of my very good friends in class were also taking part in the the same event. The play was about the life of Gautama Buddha , about how he becomes the enlightened one from Siddhartha.
Most of the roles had already been assinged to the students by then and only the small one's were remaining.(to be continued).....

The greatest come back

The long absence from blogging was due to an unavoidable episode that occurs twice a year in my life and lasts for about 15 days. The aftermath of it , is the scariest part.

Yeah the episode was my exams. And I survived it. Three cheers to me. yeppeeeeeeeeeeeeee. A semester with 9 papers. Reading 9 books in 15 days. Which amounts to reading a minimum of 400 pages in a day. Not only reading but also remembering what i read. Gosh i survied it. But as i think about the future a cold rushes down my spine. How am i gonna survive 6 more semesters .ie. 40 more papers. Rite now its over and I have decided I’ll worry about the aftermath later.And take the future as it comes.

Mean while I can spare some time with the pen and paper – a favourite pass time.

This post is not to inform the regular readers (who are very few) of my blog , but to make a tress passer not wonder about the long absence.

Life's worth!

I read this somewhere actually forgot where but it was a good one just think about it...

A couple of small kids were playing next to a small pond in the country side.
Suddenly , the ball they were playing with fell into the pond, and the boy who went to retrive it fell into the pond.
They was a lot of hue and cry and everyone was trying to save the boy.
Later, one man came out of the blue and saved the boy's life.

The boy had lost all consciousness by then. After he got back his conscience he went in search of the man who save his life. He wanted to thank the man and said , "I am indebted to you for the rest of my life. Thank you soo much".

The man replied " Its ok boy! make sure was life was worth saving."

The race

I was reading the book chicken soup for the soul and came across this very inspiring poem. I read it over and over again and thought why not post it.


The Race

Whenever I start to hang my head
in front of failure’s face,
my downward fall is broken
by the memory of a race.
A children’s race, young boys,
young men; how I remember well,
excitement sure, but also fear,
it wasn’t hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope,
each thought to win that race
or tie for first, or if not that,
at least take second place.

Their Dad's watched from off the side,
each cheering for their son,
and each boy hoped to show his Dad
that he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went,
to win, to be the hero there,
was each young boy’s desire.

One boy in particular,
whose dad was in the crowd,
was running in the lead and thought
“My dad will be so proud.”
But as he speeded down the field and crossed a shallow dip,
the little boy who thought he’d win,
lost his step and slipped.

Trying hard to catch himself,
his arms flew everyplace,
and midst the laughter of the crowd
he fell flat on his face.

As he fell, his hope fell too;
he couldn’t win it now.
Humiliated, he just wished to disappear somehow.
But as he fell his dad stood up
and showed his anxious face,
which to the boy so clearly said,
“Get up and win that race!”

He quickly rose, no damage done,
behind a bit that’s all, a
nd ran with all his mind and might
to make up for his fall.

So anxious to restore himself,
to catch up and to win,
his mind went faster than his legs.
He slipped and fell again.
He wished that he had quit before
with only one disgrace.

“I’m hopeless as a runner now,
I shouldn’t try to race.”
But through the laughing crowd
he searched and found his father’s face
with a steady look that said again,
“Get up and win that race!”

So he jumped up to try again,
ten yards behind the last.
“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought,
“I’ve got to run real fast!”
Exerting everything he had,
he regained eight, then ten...
but trying hard to catch the lead,
he slipped and fell again.

Defeat! He lay there silently.
A tear dropped from his eye.
“There’s no sense running anymore!
Three strikes I’m out!
Why try? I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought.
“I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But then he thought about his dad,
who soon he’d have to face.

“Get up,” an echo sounded low,
“you haven’t lost at all,
for all you have to do
to win is rise each time you fall.
Get up!” the echo urged him on,
“Get up and take your place!
You were not meant for failure here!
Get up and win that race!”

So, up he rose to run once more,
and he resolved that win or lose,
at least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been,
still he gave it all he had and ran like he could win.

Three times he’d fallen stumbling,
three times he rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win,
he still ran to the end.

They cheered the boy
who crossed the line and won first place,
head high and proud and happy
-- no falling, no disgrace.

But, when the fallen youngster crossed the line,
in last place, the crowd gave him a greater cheer
for finishing the race.

And even though he came in last
with head bowed low, unproud,
you would have thought he’d won the race,
to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
“To me, you won,” his father said.
“You rose each time you fell.”

And now when things seem dark
and bleak and difficult to face,
the memory of that little boy
helps me in my own race.

For all of life is like that race,
with ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
And when they shout "Quit give up you are beaten"
another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race!”

I Pray for this!!!!!

Answers that make one wonder!!

(My patti)

There is this one very special person in my life who has always influenced me. She is my grandmother, with whom i have grown up most of my life , the most brave woman I have ever known , and un doubtely the best cook.

This was an incident that happened last week:
After a bad day at college, i came back home in the blazing sun , fretting and fuming.
I was really pissed and didnt want to talk to anyone. My grandmom came promptly and gave me the evening tiffin, usual dosas . I had only one and got up. She immdiately said "How will one be enough have two more."
As i was already pissed I immediately retaliated saying:"Patti(grandmother) my stomach will burst if i eat even a small morsel. Can u just leave me alone I am already irritated.Don't irritate me even more."
Soon came a reply"Dont worry if your stomach bursts I will stitch it for u."
I was dumb-struck didnt know what to say. I quitely took another dosa into my plate. She made feel i was wrong but in the most passive manner and with a very cute answer.

I was wondering ..............................................

A grumpy prof's class (Lemon tree - fools garden re-worded)

When songs are being remixed these days, I thought, why not re-word them for a change. I sat and did this in my engineering mechanics class. Read it and u'll get a clear picture.

I'm sitting here in the boring room
It's just another grumpy professor’s class
I'm wasting my time
I want to get out soon
I'm playing around
I want him gone
But nothing ever happens and I wonder

I'm sleeping around in my class
I'm sleeping too fast
I'm dreaming too far
I'd like to change his point of view
I’m feeling so restless
I want him gone
But nothing ever happens and I wonder

I wonder how
I wonder why
Every day he comes to bore us all
And all that I can see is his big bald head
He’s turning his head up and down
He’s turning turning turning turning turning around
And all that I can see is his big bald head

I'm sitting here
I hate myself
I'd want to go out taking a break
But there's a heavy cloud inside my head
I feel so tired
Put myself into sleep
Well, nothing ever happens and I wonder

Isolation is not good for meI
solation I don't want to sit in this damn class

I'm dreaming around in the desert of joy
Prof anyhow I'll get another toy
And everything will happen and you wonder

I wonder how
I wonder why
Everyday you come to bore us all
And all that I can see is your big bald head
He’s turning his head up and down
He’s turning turning turning turning turning around
And all that I can see is his big bald head.
And I wonder, wonder

I wonder howI wonder why
Everyday he comes to bore us all
And all that I can see, and all that I can see, and all that I can see
Is just his big bald head.......