Hi friends, today I'm here again.... as usual, to share my new experiences. Certain things that I see happening around me, make me angry. It may or may not affect me directly, but I feel it wrong as it affects my near and dear ones. Let me take an example. There is a teacher in our college. He is quite young and tall fellow. The first day I saw him, I thought him to be a very good man. But, as it is said, 'First impression is not always the last impression', I didn't expect certain things from him. He always enters in the class with a smiling face. But it remains just for some time. Let me tell you some of his incidents:
DAY 1: He entered the class, and started giving his lectures. A mobile suddenly rung. All started looking at each other. The teacher's face had an angry sign. But no sooner it was found that his own cell was ringing! He took it out, disconnected the call, but it rung again. He picked up the phone, and attended it. Then he told us in a harsh voice, "I suffer a hundred problems daily. My cell will be on even in class. But your cells will be off". For the first time I realised he was a total 'khadoos'!
NEXT CLASS: he began taking attendance. 'Roll no. 1 to 23, pls tell who are present'. A student whose Roll no. was above 23, mistakenly replied. This was what he received in reply, "I'm not your servant!! Your 'baap' has not sent me as your servant!! I've just come to complete my syllabus!!!".
This is not the end. When he teaches, he speaks in low voice, unable to reach the students sitting in the last benches of the huge gallery. When a student interrupts, he says, "I will speak in the same tone. If you can't understand, you are free not to attend my class". This time, his voice is large enough to penetrate the walls of the huge gallery room.
CLIMAX: The teacher's 'khadoospan' reached its climax one day when he openly told, "The non-bengalis in the class are all duffers. I hate the non-bengalis and would be happy if they are not present. I'm intentionally telling this so that they don't attend my class from next day". He then pinpointed at our only punjabi batchmate, and said, "I hate those non-bengalis, especially that punjabi fellow". The teacher had said many more things and criticized many more, especially the teachers to whom we go for tuition. It's not possible to say everything. But I believe, the teacher had reached his climax that day.
YET ANOTHER: I used to share my works with the fellow in the beginning. But the day he criticized the non-bengalis, I stopped attending his classes. Few months passed by. Three days ago, I attended his class on the request of a friend. This was what he told me: "You had decided not to attend my class. Then why today? You are a Brahmin, right? (I replied 'yes') A brahmin always remains fixed to his decision. And I hate the non-brahmins especially for this reason. You had caused a 'ghatna' in the beginning (I wondered, which ghatna is he talking about??) You showed me your writings, and I gave them to the HOD of English Department (this was the 'ghatna). You had also given me your blog address. And soon after that you had stopped coming to my class. And today, what made you return? Do you think I have changed over the months?? No, I am the same". (At least he admitted he deserved some change in himself).
I would seldom visit his class henceforth.
The teacher is a typical example. There are many more. Some dealing directly with me, some with my near and dear ones, some with my country, or mankind. I feel all the more angry for I can't protest! I'm helpless!! I couldn't tell the teacher anything that day. Not only me, nobody said anything (as we were totally new, freshers). And if we protested, we'd be wronged. They say students grow aggressive. But seldom ask 'why'. This incident had infuriated many students, especially the non-bengalis. Apart from this, they must have got the belief that bengalis are getting more privileges in the college. They might have even started hating/ getting jealous of the bengalis. When I think these things, they make me very angry. Let me ask the readers, is my anger not void?? Ok, Leave me, if those non bengalis protest against the teacher, would it not be justified??
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
The mission of admission
It still makes me laugh when i remember the incidents that took place when i went to M M College for admission. The long queue which reached outdoor!! Actually I had to wrack my head over and over a lot before I got the final admission, and i used M M College just as a safety valve (in case i didn't get chance in Govt. College). I had applied for Honours course in this college, where the total number of seats were 40. Yes, some seats were reserved for SCs, STs and OBCs (keep in mind my words). Now, on the day of counseling, I went there. It began on time. I still remember the face of an idiotic fellow there. He was repeatedly warning from the beginning that we'd not get admission if we didn't obey. For example, 'don't break the queue or else you won't get admission', and even the tone of our dearest SXS teachers, 'don't shout in the queue or else u won't get admission!!' This threaten, of course, made me very angry, not because it was a lie, not also because he was talking to us as if we were kids.... I was angry just because these words were liked by me only when our teachers said them at school. We had given the right only to them to threaten us for this!!
Anyways, after a lot of struggle, I finally entered the counseling room, which was a mere dirty classroom, with spider webs on the corners. The counseling began with a long speech of a great celebrity..... The Principal. He had come out of his AC room, for his long speech. My heartbeat kept increasing! The idiot threatener was rotating like a supervising examiner. We, the candidates, with our files, were sitting there.
I suddenly noticed my big mistake.... My form's receipt!! I had left it somewhere!! Did it fall down from my pocket while i entered in?? Or did I leave it at home?? Shit!! My heart beat increased.
The counseling began. First came the list of SC, then ST, and then OBC. Out of the 40 seats, only 29 were for them!! They were called one after the other according to their aggregate marks. The lowest mark was 202.
Now came the turn of we, the generals. 11 seats for us!! The highest ranker was called. Then, the next one. The absentees were cancelled, and the remaining ones got benefitted. Despite lower marks, they were admitted. I could feel the 'lubb dubb' inside me. High tension!!
But my tension came to a full stop when the idiot said, after a fellow with 380 marks got admitted, 'our 40 seats are filled up. So no more admissions'.
Today I thank God I didn't get admission there. But that time I was under a grip of several negative thoughts. 'Will i be left with washing dishes?', 'will my studies stop?', 'I can't stand in front of my SXS batchmates', 'what will i tell my friends n relatives??' bla bla.... ran over my head everytime.
A fellow of the same college told me to come for admission in general course on a particular date. But the chance was 50-50.
On that day I went for the admission. The Long queue would even fail the length of the length of Rajdhani Express!! But I had to get into it. Why did that 'manhoos' idiot boy come again? He still said those empty threatens, and told to split the line into two.... Boys and girls. This ate our two minutes. Again one elderly fellow came and told 'Make a single line itself'. The outcome was, the queues remained two itself, but some confusions made us go a few steps backward!! (Grrrr!!)
And then, the queue would defeat even the person running a slow race. Every individual took around 15 minutes to get admission! The fellow behind me got brought a Kurkure packet. I too got some from him. My mum n aunt, who had come with me, bought cakes, and ice-cream. Similarly, many others in the queue got some food items. We joked that the line was so slow that we could sit down there and have a picnic!!
Joke come true!!!! The queue was extraordinarily slow. A time came when we were tired of standing. We squatted, and later sat down with legs crossed, eating our 'kurkure's, and cakes.
The girls' queue was longer. They were admitting a girl, and a boy. But due to the requests of a kind lady who was with us, the system changed to 'two girl, and one boy'.
As a result, the girls became very happy, but boys just frowned. I could see the fair young girl parallel to me on the girls' queue. She was chatting with a guy standing beside me, with a helmet on his hand (he was not in the queue). The girl drank water from her bottle, and passed it to that guy. I too got a share of the water on request.
We were getting slower. Girls became faster. The fair young girl soon went forward, still chatting with the guy, at times teasing and making faces at him. (Later i came to know they were on the verge of getting married. The girl's parents had sent the guy as her bodyguard, may be to test if he'd be able to guard her body once they were married).
I was, by now, dead tired, with sweat all over my body. Same was the condition of the others standing there. A time came when we sat down again. Our 'picnic' continued. Then, the same old idiot guy came once again, this time with a bundle of pages. He distributed them among us. It was a fresh form. This time too, the idiot's words came, "if you shout, i will not give you the form!". At which cursed moment was he born?! Anyways, We had to fill it and deposit it along with the new one.
To fill the form, we had to get out of the queue. I filled it. Amazing! The 'blood group' option was not known to many. They didn't know what to write there. Some randomly wrote A or B or O, and put + or -. Thanx to God that i had brought my photo with me. I had to paste it there.
When i joined the queue again, I was very careful not to go further backward. But i went back by around 3 steps. I couldn't stop this. But many went back around 10 steps in this procedure.
This time, the situation became unbearable. The persons who accompanied us, (parents, guardians, groom(s), etc) went forward and saw whats happening there. To their (and later, our) surprise, the present students, who were of the ruling party (trinamool), took their near and dear fellows with them, and got their admission done, while we struggled at the queue.
What could then be left behind? We raised our voices. What an irony!! We, the 'ordinary's, were raising voice against the guys belonging to the ruling party!! I could hear my mother speaking to one of them, "you are working for (mamata) didi, right? Did your didi tell you to do THIS?!"
Ultimately the partiality was towards its end. The guardians strictly didn't allow any more partiality. When the girls' queue became of same length as that of boys' queue, the process of 1 boy and 1 girl began again. Everything went smoothly thereafter. I submitted the documents and money, got my receipt, and came out. The queues, i saw, were still very long. Might be the last fellow could get admitted at around 8pm.
I felt greatly relieved! Finally I could get it...!! But I had no wish to be in this college. I remember, in the counseling, the HOD had told, "students never came here to study. They were repeatedly absent. On being asked, their parents said their boy/girl came out of the house everyday for college". Such is the college! And secondly, meeting HOD was an 'Eid ka chaand'. He sat in his closed AC office, and seldom got out.
Later when I got admission in Govt. College, I was overjoyed. I've heard, this college is far better than the previous one. Here, the teachers are from Jadavpur University, and many such named institutions.
I'd never be able to forget that 'war' in the MM College. I'd also not forget the huge preference given to the reserved class. The mission of admission we had, has, but taught me one thing:
You can't get fruit if you only have patience. Patience is good, but too much of it is never good. If it crosses the limit, we have the whole right to violate and protest!!
Anyways, after a lot of struggle, I finally entered the counseling room, which was a mere dirty classroom, with spider webs on the corners. The counseling began with a long speech of a great celebrity..... The Principal. He had come out of his AC room, for his long speech. My heartbeat kept increasing! The idiot threatener was rotating like a supervising examiner. We, the candidates, with our files, were sitting there.
I suddenly noticed my big mistake.... My form's receipt!! I had left it somewhere!! Did it fall down from my pocket while i entered in?? Or did I leave it at home?? Shit!! My heart beat increased.
The counseling began. First came the list of SC, then ST, and then OBC. Out of the 40 seats, only 29 were for them!! They were called one after the other according to their aggregate marks. The lowest mark was 202.
Now came the turn of we, the generals. 11 seats for us!! The highest ranker was called. Then, the next one. The absentees were cancelled, and the remaining ones got benefitted. Despite lower marks, they were admitted. I could feel the 'lubb dubb' inside me. High tension!!
But my tension came to a full stop when the idiot said, after a fellow with 380 marks got admitted, 'our 40 seats are filled up. So no more admissions'.
Today I thank God I didn't get admission there. But that time I was under a grip of several negative thoughts. 'Will i be left with washing dishes?', 'will my studies stop?', 'I can't stand in front of my SXS batchmates', 'what will i tell my friends n relatives??' bla bla.... ran over my head everytime.
A fellow of the same college told me to come for admission in general course on a particular date. But the chance was 50-50.
On that day I went for the admission. The Long queue would even fail the length of the length of Rajdhani Express!! But I had to get into it. Why did that 'manhoos' idiot boy come again? He still said those empty threatens, and told to split the line into two.... Boys and girls. This ate our two minutes. Again one elderly fellow came and told 'Make a single line itself'. The outcome was, the queues remained two itself, but some confusions made us go a few steps backward!! (Grrrr!!)
And then, the queue would defeat even the person running a slow race. Every individual took around 15 minutes to get admission! The fellow behind me got brought a Kurkure packet. I too got some from him. My mum n aunt, who had come with me, bought cakes, and ice-cream. Similarly, many others in the queue got some food items. We joked that the line was so slow that we could sit down there and have a picnic!!
Joke come true!!!! The queue was extraordinarily slow. A time came when we were tired of standing. We squatted, and later sat down with legs crossed, eating our 'kurkure's, and cakes.
The girls' queue was longer. They were admitting a girl, and a boy. But due to the requests of a kind lady who was with us, the system changed to 'two girl, and one boy'.
As a result, the girls became very happy, but boys just frowned. I could see the fair young girl parallel to me on the girls' queue. She was chatting with a guy standing beside me, with a helmet on his hand (he was not in the queue). The girl drank water from her bottle, and passed it to that guy. I too got a share of the water on request.
We were getting slower. Girls became faster. The fair young girl soon went forward, still chatting with the guy, at times teasing and making faces at him. (Later i came to know they were on the verge of getting married. The girl's parents had sent the guy as her bodyguard, may be to test if he'd be able to guard her body once they were married).
I was, by now, dead tired, with sweat all over my body. Same was the condition of the others standing there. A time came when we sat down again. Our 'picnic' continued. Then, the same old idiot guy came once again, this time with a bundle of pages. He distributed them among us. It was a fresh form. This time too, the idiot's words came, "if you shout, i will not give you the form!". At which cursed moment was he born?! Anyways, We had to fill it and deposit it along with the new one.
To fill the form, we had to get out of the queue. I filled it. Amazing! The 'blood group' option was not known to many. They didn't know what to write there. Some randomly wrote A or B or O, and put + or -. Thanx to God that i had brought my photo with me. I had to paste it there.
When i joined the queue again, I was very careful not to go further backward. But i went back by around 3 steps. I couldn't stop this. But many went back around 10 steps in this procedure.
This time, the situation became unbearable. The persons who accompanied us, (parents, guardians, groom(s), etc) went forward and saw whats happening there. To their (and later, our) surprise, the present students, who were of the ruling party (trinamool), took their near and dear fellows with them, and got their admission done, while we struggled at the queue.
What could then be left behind? We raised our voices. What an irony!! We, the 'ordinary's, were raising voice against the guys belonging to the ruling party!! I could hear my mother speaking to one of them, "you are working for (mamata) didi, right? Did your didi tell you to do THIS?!"
Ultimately the partiality was towards its end. The guardians strictly didn't allow any more partiality. When the girls' queue became of same length as that of boys' queue, the process of 1 boy and 1 girl began again. Everything went smoothly thereafter. I submitted the documents and money, got my receipt, and came out. The queues, i saw, were still very long. Might be the last fellow could get admitted at around 8pm.
I felt greatly relieved! Finally I could get it...!! But I had no wish to be in this college. I remember, in the counseling, the HOD had told, "students never came here to study. They were repeatedly absent. On being asked, their parents said their boy/girl came out of the house everyday for college". Such is the college! And secondly, meeting HOD was an 'Eid ka chaand'. He sat in his closed AC office, and seldom got out.
Later when I got admission in Govt. College, I was overjoyed. I've heard, this college is far better than the previous one. Here, the teachers are from Jadavpur University, and many such named institutions.
I'd never be able to forget that 'war' in the MM College. I'd also not forget the huge preference given to the reserved class. The mission of admission we had, has, but taught me one thing:
You can't get fruit if you only have patience. Patience is good, but too much of it is never good. If it crosses the limit, we have the whole right to violate and protest!!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
The ATM story
I had to draw some money from ATM. let me tell you, Sahibganj, my ex-hometown, is famous for ATM machines. Near my house, were 3 ATMs, and the next closest ATM was a kilometre away.
I went to the 1st ATM, the closest one. Its closed shutter made me sad. Although I was not much sad as I knew this ATM remains closed most often.
I walked till the second ATM, which is at a distance of around 250 metres from the previous one. The ATM room was open, and I could se the ATM machine clearly. But there was something that was more clear. It was nothing but a signboard where the following was written:
I went to the 1st ATM, the closest one. Its closed shutter made me sad. Although I was not much sad as I knew this ATM remains closed most often.
I walked till the second ATM, which is at a distance of around 250 metres from the previous one. The ATM room was open, and I could se the ATM machine clearly. But there was something that was more clear. It was nothing but a signboard where the following was written:
"ATM is out of order. Sorry for the inconvenience"
I had to walk till the 3rd ATM. It too was open, and contained no signboard outside. A customer was inside. I went on the gate, and waited for my turn. Soon the customer finished his work and came out. He seemed quite satisfied at his transaction. I asked him in hindi whether the ATM worked. He replied in affirmation.
I finally entered the ATM room. The AC was turned on. The ATM screen was waiting for its next customer. I inserted the card and entered the password. It accepted my card. Ifollowed the procedure and entered the amount. the screen had the following written:
"Your transaction is being processed. Please wait"
I felt bit relieved. What to do, I didn't know that after some time the same ATM screen would show, "Sorry, the ATM is unable to transact!!!"
I angrily came out of the ATM room, and caught the same old gentleman who had told me that the ATM works. The fellow replied me that the ATM has no money, and he had actually gone there to check the account balance.
I had heard a saying, "Do not count the chickens before the eggs are hatched". That day I had learnt a new thing, "Do not trust the ATM unless you receive the money".
I finally came back home. I could have walked/cycled till the 4th ATM. But I remained at home itself, as I had recalled a previous matter regarding that ATM. The ATM room was open, and a good number of persons was in it. I went in, and saw that the ATM machine was switched off, and those persons were actually enjoying the presence in the AC, which was turned on. They could get this free treat in the hot summer.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Just in Barber!! (part 1)
I had to reach my maths tuition by an hour. I placed the immersion rod in the bucket of water, and was waiting for it to be heated up, when suddenly my mummy called out, "You need to go for a haircut today. Do you remember?" Shit! Today was my birthday, and I didn't wanna shorten the length of my hair. But I had to obey my mother. Moreover, I didn't wanna sadden anybody on this special day.
I didn't want to go to the barber to whom I went for my last haircut, for he didn't cut it properly and so, I had to come for haircut again, in the same month.
I went to the barber a little away from my house. But the roadside wall where he keeps his mirror and sets his 'shop', was deserted. One could not guess the wall is occupied by a barber.
Then I went to another shop, which is no less than a log-made military camp. But that too was found closed. My tension was increasing as I knew, my maths tuition time was coming closer and closer. Just an hour in my hand, or even less, which included the time I would use to hunt a barber, get the haircut, take a bath, and cycle till tuition.
So finally I walked till another barber's shop. Relief! It was open. There were two arrangements for haircut, one of which was empty. A person was sitting clumsily on that hair-cutting chair, while the other chair was coveted by a customer, his cheeks painted with white shaving cream, and a barber caressing them with his 'astura'. I mistook the fellow sitting on the other chair, to be a second barber, and requested him if he could cut my hair. Thanks to God that he was a polite fellow. I was on the verge of getting thrashed in the public.
The other fellow, who was still 'dating' with the customer's white polished cheeks, told me that he had to do the same with two other customers. He could cut my hair only after this. I found no use waiting there.
If I would walk till another barber, I'd get late, as his shop is very far. So there was just one way out..... to continue with the fellow with whom I didn't want to get my haircut. I had learnt one new thing. There is a saying in hindi which means that 'in every grain of food, its eater's name is written'. Today I have learnt:
"In every follicle of hair, the barber's name is written".
Finally I went to that barber. He too was busy with another customer's beard. But his work was on the verge of completion. I went and sat on the nearby bench. Another fellow was sitting beside me. A newspaper (Dainik Jagran) was kept there. I didn't care who owned it. I turned the pages, and read two news pieces. One was about Salman Khan's murdering a deer. The deer must have taken rebirth and enjoying life by now. But poor Salman Khan still has to wrack his head over it. Another news was of a man having more than 100 family members which includes his wives, children, and grandchildren.
After reading the news, I looked at the barber how far he had proceeded. A gentleman suddenly appeared in front of me that time. He asked for the newspaper as it was his. I handed it over to him. The man who was waiting for his turn, was still beside me, gossiping with the barber.
When the barber finally finished shaving his customer, and his chair became empty, I soon went and sat there. I was lucky the person beside me was looking the other way, and i took advantage of it.
I sat on the wooden chair, seeing my handsome face on the mirror. Don't think I'm boasting. Actually I dislike having a haircut. Before every haircut, I see my 'long' hair and feel myself handsome, which I'd not be after some time.
The other person on the bench, the one who had to wait again, saw me, and tried to hide his foolishness. He tried to show that he had done a favour to me.
I didn't pay any attention to him. I had to finish up this 'hair cutting ceremony', and reach my tuition.
The gentleman, who was a barberian barber of Baber's era, began his work like the local train. I requested him to make my hair shorter this time. He said, "alright".
So the barber began his toys on my head. Simultaneously he was chatting with the person on the bench. I wanted to tell the barber to pay more attention on my haircut. But I couldn't do so as the barbers here, are very cunning. I feared if I'd tell him to hurry, he'd cut my ear, and then, would boldly say, "What could I do? You yourself said me to hurry".
I didn't want to go to the barber to whom I went for my last haircut, for he didn't cut it properly and so, I had to come for haircut again, in the same month.
I went to the barber a little away from my house. But the roadside wall where he keeps his mirror and sets his 'shop', was deserted. One could not guess the wall is occupied by a barber.
Then I went to another shop, which is no less than a log-made military camp. But that too was found closed. My tension was increasing as I knew, my maths tuition time was coming closer and closer. Just an hour in my hand, or even less, which included the time I would use to hunt a barber, get the haircut, take a bath, and cycle till tuition.
So finally I walked till another barber's shop. Relief! It was open. There were two arrangements for haircut, one of which was empty. A person was sitting clumsily on that hair-cutting chair, while the other chair was coveted by a customer, his cheeks painted with white shaving cream, and a barber caressing them with his 'astura'. I mistook the fellow sitting on the other chair, to be a second barber, and requested him if he could cut my hair. Thanks to God that he was a polite fellow. I was on the verge of getting thrashed in the public.
The other fellow, who was still 'dating' with the customer's white polished cheeks, told me that he had to do the same with two other customers. He could cut my hair only after this. I found no use waiting there.
If I would walk till another barber, I'd get late, as his shop is very far. So there was just one way out..... to continue with the fellow with whom I didn't want to get my haircut. I had learnt one new thing. There is a saying in hindi which means that 'in every grain of food, its eater's name is written'. Today I have learnt:
"In every follicle of hair, the barber's name is written".
Finally I went to that barber. He too was busy with another customer's beard. But his work was on the verge of completion. I went and sat on the nearby bench. Another fellow was sitting beside me. A newspaper (Dainik Jagran) was kept there. I didn't care who owned it. I turned the pages, and read two news pieces. One was about Salman Khan's murdering a deer. The deer must have taken rebirth and enjoying life by now. But poor Salman Khan still has to wrack his head over it. Another news was of a man having more than 100 family members which includes his wives, children, and grandchildren.
After reading the news, I looked at the barber how far he had proceeded. A gentleman suddenly appeared in front of me that time. He asked for the newspaper as it was his. I handed it over to him. The man who was waiting for his turn, was still beside me, gossiping with the barber.
When the barber finally finished shaving his customer, and his chair became empty, I soon went and sat there. I was lucky the person beside me was looking the other way, and i took advantage of it.
I sat on the wooden chair, seeing my handsome face on the mirror. Don't think I'm boasting. Actually I dislike having a haircut. Before every haircut, I see my 'long' hair and feel myself handsome, which I'd not be after some time.
The other person on the bench, the one who had to wait again, saw me, and tried to hide his foolishness. He tried to show that he had done a favour to me.
I didn't pay any attention to him. I had to finish up this 'hair cutting ceremony', and reach my tuition.
The gentleman, who was a barberian barber of Baber's era, began his work like the local train. I requested him to make my hair shorter this time. He said, "alright".
So the barber began his toys on my head. Simultaneously he was chatting with the person on the bench. I wanted to tell the barber to pay more attention on my haircut. But I couldn't do so as the barbers here, are very cunning. I feared if I'd tell him to hurry, he'd cut my ear, and then, would boldly say, "What could I do? You yourself said me to hurry".
Monday, March 7, 2011
Just in Barber!! (part 2)
And then the worst thing happened. I do not know if the person on the bench wanted to take revenge of me. He ordered two cups of tea.... One for himself, and the other one for the Barber. What worse could happen?? The barber stopped his work for tea. When I watch a programme on TV, the ad breaks irritate me a lot. For the first time I saw somebody taking 'tea-break', that too having tied me up. I couldn't go away as my hair was in a 'half-cut' position. They already call me a clown. I didn't want them to call me a super-clown. The only way out was, to sit there quietly, and pray to God.
I just dared to request the barber once, if he could 'kindly' hurry. The barber didn't reply. He finished his tea, and began his work again. 'Zip-Zap' went the scissors over my head. I made him recall once again that I needed shorter hair.
After scissors played their part, 'astura' began its work. It had to adjust my columns.
Finally, after 6 minutes (from then), it was done. The 'war' was over.
I was to pay Rs. 13/- to the barber. But he demanded 15/-. I had no time to bargain, that too just for Rs. 2/-. So I paid him what he had asked.
When I came home, and looked at the time-piece, I saw I had just 5 minutes in hand. I knew I had no possibility to be in the tuition on time. It takes ten mimikks to reach there itself. I calculated and saw, I'd be at least half an hour late. I came to a decision of not going there. Then what about the matter I needed to understand?? I never have a thought to it, as I knew I will have leaves before maths exam. I'd get ample time to clear my small problem I had in maths. I didn't wanna spoil my birthday taking more tensions.
The day is gone. I had got lot of wishings from my friends and relatives. But frankly speaking, no 'barber' had come to wish me a happy birthday!!
I just dared to request the barber once, if he could 'kindly' hurry. The barber didn't reply. He finished his tea, and began his work again. 'Zip-Zap' went the scissors over my head. I made him recall once again that I needed shorter hair.
After scissors played their part, 'astura' began its work. It had to adjust my columns.
Finally, after 6 minutes (from then), it was done. The 'war' was over.
I was to pay Rs. 13/- to the barber. But he demanded 15/-. I had no time to bargain, that too just for Rs. 2/-. So I paid him what he had asked.
When I came home, and looked at the time-piece, I saw I had just 5 minutes in hand. I knew I had no possibility to be in the tuition on time. It takes ten mimikks to reach there itself. I calculated and saw, I'd be at least half an hour late. I came to a decision of not going there. Then what about the matter I needed to understand?? I never have a thought to it, as I knew I will have leaves before maths exam. I'd get ample time to clear my small problem I had in maths. I didn't wanna spoil my birthday taking more tensions.
The day is gone. I had got lot of wishings from my friends and relatives. But frankly speaking, no 'barber' had come to wish me a happy birthday!!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Roadside talent
Hi friends, Happy New Year.
Many great thinkers say that we must utilise our talents. Each one of us has got some or the other talent within us. We may be able to utilise our talents. But is this applicable to all? Let me tell you a small incident. One day, I went for marketing. I was to buy a kilo of gram shrubs (chhole ka saag). The shopkeeper had his little daughter with him, who would be hardly four-year old. When I asked the shopkeeper for the saag, the little girl immedieately took some saag from the basket, and handed it to me. Not being sure of its weight, I asked the shopkeeper to weigh it. Moreover, why should I trust that little girl? Even the shopkeeper thought she had given me less saag, and tried to add some more. But the girl didn't allow her father to do so. She was dead sure that the saag she had given was of one kilo.
To keep the wish of his daughter, the shopkeeper weighed the saag without adding extra. But he held some in his hand to add it after proving her daughter that she was wrong.
But to our surprise, the saag in the bag weighed exactly one kilo. I was surprised at the determination of the little girl. First of all, without weighing, she had picked up a kilo of the vegetable, and then, she had full faith on her measurement. And her measurement was really accurate.
After that when I was going to pay the price to the shopkeeper, the girl said that I had to pay more, as the price of saag had risen. I was stunned to see her way of bargaining. Only if I could show you!! Later when her father chided her for doing this, she started crying. To stop her cry, I was forced to pay some more money.
We have seen the talent inside that little girl. We have also seen her way of protest. She would surely grow up to a good seller of raw veggies. A time would come when she would be married, and would accompany her husband in the corner of the street selling potatoes and onions, and would indeed make a good sale of it.
My question is, does she deserve it? Doesn't she deserve more? Would her talent be limited only to that extent? Had she not been the daughter of a mere shopkeeper, she would have been somewhere else. Her talent would have been known to the world one day. Today she has protested for her right return for the vegetable. Tomorrow she would have protested for her rights and others' rights. She would have become the next Indira Gandhi or Kiran Bedi. You may be laughing at my statement, but just feel, could this not happen? It could have happened..... But sorry, this won't happen..... This won't happen because she is the daughter of a poor vegetable seller. Her poverty won't let her expose her talent. Even if she wants, she cannot do anything because of no money, followed by no proper education. I'm sorry to say, but this is a bitter truth.
Can anyone of you take the initiative to come forward and help children like her, get proper education and be able to show their talent to the world?? Today when I myself show my works to you, you say, "you'd become a great writer one day" and so on. But will you be able to assure this to children like that small girl? No. Then why not try to make such children like us? When a small boy begs on the road, he doesn't beg money. He begs education, he begs a better living, he begs to be one like us. But we send them away most of the time thinking that they beg without doing any work. But do we ever think what work he can do?? Have we given them an opportunity?? We have taken our new year resolutions. How many of us did include in our resolutions that we must help children like them?? Of course, it may not be possible for many of us to incur huge expenses towards educating them. But if we contribute a little towards them, it would help them a lot. Don't do thinking this a burden. May not do thinking this a duty. Just try doing it thinking yourself a human being..... Trying to help a person like you..... Exposing the talent of a roadside genius like that vegetable seller's small girl!!
Many great thinkers say that we must utilise our talents. Each one of us has got some or the other talent within us. We may be able to utilise our talents. But is this applicable to all? Let me tell you a small incident. One day, I went for marketing. I was to buy a kilo of gram shrubs (chhole ka saag). The shopkeeper had his little daughter with him, who would be hardly four-year old. When I asked the shopkeeper for the saag, the little girl immedieately took some saag from the basket, and handed it to me. Not being sure of its weight, I asked the shopkeeper to weigh it. Moreover, why should I trust that little girl? Even the shopkeeper thought she had given me less saag, and tried to add some more. But the girl didn't allow her father to do so. She was dead sure that the saag she had given was of one kilo.
To keep the wish of his daughter, the shopkeeper weighed the saag without adding extra. But he held some in his hand to add it after proving her daughter that she was wrong.
But to our surprise, the saag in the bag weighed exactly one kilo. I was surprised at the determination of the little girl. First of all, without weighing, she had picked up a kilo of the vegetable, and then, she had full faith on her measurement. And her measurement was really accurate.
After that when I was going to pay the price to the shopkeeper, the girl said that I had to pay more, as the price of saag had risen. I was stunned to see her way of bargaining. Only if I could show you!! Later when her father chided her for doing this, she started crying. To stop her cry, I was forced to pay some more money.
We have seen the talent inside that little girl. We have also seen her way of protest. She would surely grow up to a good seller of raw veggies. A time would come when she would be married, and would accompany her husband in the corner of the street selling potatoes and onions, and would indeed make a good sale of it.
My question is, does she deserve it? Doesn't she deserve more? Would her talent be limited only to that extent? Had she not been the daughter of a mere shopkeeper, she would have been somewhere else. Her talent would have been known to the world one day. Today she has protested for her right return for the vegetable. Tomorrow she would have protested for her rights and others' rights. She would have become the next Indira Gandhi or Kiran Bedi. You may be laughing at my statement, but just feel, could this not happen? It could have happened..... But sorry, this won't happen..... This won't happen because she is the daughter of a poor vegetable seller. Her poverty won't let her expose her talent. Even if she wants, she cannot do anything because of no money, followed by no proper education. I'm sorry to say, but this is a bitter truth.
Can anyone of you take the initiative to come forward and help children like her, get proper education and be able to show their talent to the world?? Today when I myself show my works to you, you say, "you'd become a great writer one day" and so on. But will you be able to assure this to children like that small girl? No. Then why not try to make such children like us? When a small boy begs on the road, he doesn't beg money. He begs education, he begs a better living, he begs to be one like us. But we send them away most of the time thinking that they beg without doing any work. But do we ever think what work he can do?? Have we given them an opportunity?? We have taken our new year resolutions. How many of us did include in our resolutions that we must help children like them?? Of course, it may not be possible for many of us to incur huge expenses towards educating them. But if we contribute a little towards them, it would help them a lot. Don't do thinking this a burden. May not do thinking this a duty. Just try doing it thinking yourself a human being..... Trying to help a person like you..... Exposing the talent of a roadside genius like that vegetable seller's small girl!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)