Two of a Kind

“Feeling the stares of everyone around her, she closed her eyes, took a bite, and imagined she was eating imported chocolate.” — Today’s Author

two of a kind

Knowing what the peanut bar was going to do to her only made it difficult. She felt her eyes well up in fear and in anger.

How dare they make her eat that stuff knowing well that she was allergic?

She chewed slowly, dreading the pain the peanut bar would cause. But there was no way out; her seniors were determined to get to her. They had been ragging juniors the whole day, and the management was purposefully oblivious.

She kept chewing, her tongue unwilling send in the poison. One of the seniors lost her patience.

“Eat up, midget! We haven’t got all day!” The others cheered and egged her.

With nothing else to do, Kate swallowed the lump of peanuts. She could feel it move slowly down her throat, as she took another bite.

Her body felt sore when she woke up in the hospital. Her worst fear had become reality — the peanuts had caused painful boils all over her skin.

She tried to remember.

She had eaten the whole peanut bar, and the seniors had left her, choking, under the tree.

Then how did she get here?

Just then, a skinny boy walked in. He looked pale, but she wasn’t sure whether it was his natural complexion or just looking at her made him uncomfortable.

When he spoke though, he showed no sign of disgust.

“My sister and her friends are always doing stuff like this. I’m really sorry you had to endure this.”

Kate stared at the boy, not knowing how to react. That bully was this boy’s sister?

For some reason, she could empathize with the boy as much as he did with her.

She tried to speak, but could only manage a weak smile. Seeing her smile, the boy’s face lit up.

“I’m William.”

And thus began a new chapter.

The Ultimate Race

On your marks, get set, go! Arms flailing, the girls rush forward. The stronger of the two wins. Naturally. The children clap and cheer, the teachers smile their appreciation. The girl who has won laughs happily and runs back in triumph. I look at the girl who has lost. In her eyes, I see shame, I see fear, I see despair. Shame at not being able to win. fear of what others are thinking, despair at not knowing what to do next. I see a soul that is slowly being bruised and brutalised by comparison. Something within her has withered. I want to tell her that she is beautiful and sensitive, that this race doesn’t matter, that it’s just a silly system that grown-ups invented for their own selfish reasons. I want to give her something to make her feel better. In my hand, I have an orange, Impulsively, I reach forward, take the hand of this child and put the orange into it. ‘Take this’, I say to her. ‘It’s for coming second.’

— Excerpt from “Ramblings on a beach” by Kabir Bedi

rabbit 2

Oh, isn’t the world drunk on competition!

Everyone wants to outdo each other. Run, run, life is a race. The only purpose is to win the rat race. We’re so high on the thought that we easily fail to recognize the little things that we lose, merely by winning a good-for-nothing rat race.

How many poeple have we hurt, how many people we’ve made feel small. We’ve crushed too many souls. We’ve lost friends, family, health and joy. It’s all our obsessive need to belong, to be on top, to succeed. The need to override others, to control, to influence, to manipulate, to exploit.

What’s the point? What do we gain by walking over the very things that matter the most to us?

But hey, we’ve won the race! And now we’re alone.

Another Year. Yet Again

Google surprised me. Yet again.

My own personalised doodle!

I don’t remember seeing a personalized Google doodle for my last birthday. It’s just this year. Perhaps it’s not such a big deal, maybe it’s been around for some time now. But no one I ever know spoke of this, and I thought it was pretty cool to suddenly find out on my birthday at 12.35 AM.

That said, the intent of the post is not to thank Google. It’s to reflect on the past one year. But just as I typed that out, I realized that would be boring. It would be boring to read and even more so to write about.

So, let’s talk about today.

Things will change from today. I’ve been away from work for a week and in the meantime, I cut my hair off. I had weak and almost-long hair. Now it’s short, easily manageable. So, it’s bound to raise eyebrows – not something I’m not used to. Plus, going back to work really means, having to work on Mondays and Fridays. That I’m not thrilled of. But at least there’ll be Saturday afternoons.

Apart from that, life would be pretty normal. It’ll be tough to get back to the routine after a week of chaotic lifestyle. It’s going to be difficult to get back to waking up at 5.30 and hitting the sack  before 11.

Enough of the rant though.

It’s my birthday. I’m twenty as of today. No more a teenager, no more a kid. Of course, to my mother, I’m always a small child, but mothers don’t count. I’ve grown a lot. I’ve grown out a lot of my old, childish habits, and also a few clothes. I’ve grown out of the “irresponsible” age and am supposedly into the enjoyable twenties, the age of responsible drinking. (Does anyone else ever think that the words “responsible” and “drinking” don’t go well together?)

Cheers!

Refreshing Memories With Nancy

Nancy Drew

It’s been long — literally years — since I abandoned Nancy Drew to the unavoidable circumstance of growing up.

After such a long time, I was able to lay my hands again on the series when I visited a book fair at home.

This book fair comes to my hometown twice a year; in July and in December. And though I have been to the fair more times than I care to remember, I am, unashamedly, every time overwhelmed by the collection they seem to display.

Any vain pride that I have about knowing a lot of books, is just washed away in a huge wave of unheard authors and books.

But it was Nancy Drew that helped buried memories surface. So I bought a Nancy Drew: Girl Detective trilogy. (I didn’t even know Nancy Drew came in trilogies!) This particular trilogy is the Eco Mystery Trilogy.

I started reading the first book and was surprised (like countless times before when it came to books,) with the narrative. All of the previous Nancy drew books I had read followed the third person narrative. This trilogy however, was of Aladdin Publications (whose books I’ve never read before)  and followed the first person point of view. That was unexpected. I have never experienced Nancy describing a situation from her view. It was rather bizarre. It had always been the narrator-writer, Carolyn Keene, who told us about Nancy and her friends.

This Aladdin Publications raised a question in my mind: how was the stories originally written? It is possible that the author herself adopted a change of point of view? As always, I turned to Wikipedia. It says that Carolyn Keene was a pseudonym that multiple authors wrote by. So Nancy Drew was a work of multiple authors, the revelation leaves me a little disappointed.

Moving on to other things, there was one other thing about the story that caught my attention than anything else. It was the simplicity of the narration. This is one thing that almost everyone speaks of nowadays. But what I’m trying to point out here is that the books are so simply written that it involves less or no effort to read it.

That’s really important, in any book. As we grow up, we move on to bigger and, what we assume, better books that are merely complicated reads. In other words, they are just simply too tough to read easily. Which is one of the reasons reading has become a chore.

Mysteries are knotted, complicated and twisted. If a writer (or many) can vividly bring crime scenes to our minds, without using twisted vocabulary and grammar, then it is a good read, isn’t it?

Children’s and young adult mysteries like The Famous Five, The Secret Seven, Nancy Drew, The Hardy Boys are all great examples of simply describing serious plots.

We do need more of such books, if we are to encourage youngsters to read. Maybe after reading effortlessly and loving it, kids would opt to explore the more complicated plots.

Just a random thought.

These kids nowadays…

I have met a lot of adults who complain about the young generation. Most people find it difficult to accept that life on earth — from being easy — has now become challenging. Nowadays, mere survival requires enormous effort.

Irresponsible, forgetful, careless, jealous, greedy, inane, insane. These adjectives, we hear almost everyday from parents of teenagers. From their point of view, their teenage children are useless and can’t do anything right. Parents nowadays accuse teenagers of whiling away their time in front of television watching useless programs or surfing the internet, killing time.

There’s something they need to understand though. The period between 10-20 years is the most difficult part of a modern child’s life. Difficult, not only to the child but also to those around him/her. That is the age a child begins to look at himself/herself as an individual. That’s when a sense of self-importance arises. We feel the transition from a child to a person in society. That’s when we desperately try to break through the chains of childhood that our parents and society had restrained us in.

It’s like taking the first step out into the world after a lifetime in prison. Everything and everyone seems strange. It feels like a butterfly breaking out of its cocoon. As a child, we’d have thought everyone we met were good and everyone was a part of a larger family. It’s during those pre-teen years that we figure out that our childhood fancies, were indeed fancies and everything we thought we knew of the world was wrong. It’s when we meet the jealous, the ruthless; the deceiving, and the unfriendly that we realize how wrong we had been all along. It’s hard to accept.

It feels like forcibly being thrust into a group of snarling and unfriendly wild dogs. Suddenly the picture of the ‘beautiful world’ starts to crumble. We see the world for what it really is.

In days of yore, children were either forced into adulthood before they could come out of their cocoon or our society wasn’t as bad and corrupted as it is now. There wasn’t much difference between the family children knew and the society they would soon get to know.

Now, however, things have changed. It’s like balancing two worlds that are in complete contrast with one another. The change, in itself, is a hard-to-bear reality. That causes depression. And to add to the helplessness, the usual duties of school and homework come in harder than ever before.

That’s the age we feel a sudden urge to experiment on relationships; that’s when we learn to make friends of strangers. Making friends with others who feel as insecure as us is easier said than done, we find it difficult to trust anyone; we view even family with a doubtful eye. Inexplicable emotions run amok in our minds and we won’t feel confident enough to confide in anyone.

Bottled up insecurity, frustration, fear and emotions threaten to break out as depression. When they do break out, they result in desperate mood swings. That’s when the rest of the world calls us ‘irresponsible’ and ‘incapable of doing anything right’. These accusations make us feel as if something is indeed wrong with us.

Naturally, we look up to our family for help. Parents are the only ones we trust and if they have problems of their own, that would be a huge let down for us. Of course, there are some families who make efforts to try and understand.

We find it nearly impossible to rest. To overcome the chaos within us, we look for alternatives. And, with some help sometimes, we do find them in drugs.

Most teenagers who do drugs only do it to relieve themselves of the stress of the outside world and try to rest. I am not justifying the use of drugs, but merely stating that they honestly believe that drugs can help them clean up their scattered emotions. Those who escape the claws of drugs turn to the option of suicide to escape the harsh realities of life. It’s only a moment’s foolhardiness and luckily, some come out of it as coming out of a reverie.

Me saying all these might sound odd because I talk for teenagers in general. Of all things I’ve said, I have felt almost everything myself and I am pretty sure other teenagers feel it too. I realized I wasn’t alone when I read Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul, Letters. Reading letters from fellow teenagers around the globe, inspired me to muse on my teenage life, and this is what I came up with.