What an idea sir jee?

http://stuteenag.blogspot.in/2014/07/what-idea-sir-ji.html

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Because somethings just last a lifetime

Stu(art)

So you know back in the day, we used to have this annual carnival at my hometown. Nothing over the top – No Brazilian dancers or colorful parades. But it meant the world to me. It took place in the month of March, which also happens to be my birthday month, and more often than not the carnival week used to coincide with my birthday. Need I ask for more? As a spinning top, all of eight, I used to be all over the place. For a kid hopped up on sugar, being in that place used to be like finding gold. No, wait, not just finding gold but finding gold with ice-cream on it.

Every year as soon as the calendar was out, I used to earmark those special magical seven days of endless fun. You know? The merry-go-round, the giant wheel or even the snake charmers for that…

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Because somethings just last a lifetime – writing 101 day 15 excercise.

So you know back in the day, we used to have this annual carnival at my hometown. Nothing over the top – No Brazilian dancers or colorful parades. But it meant the world to me. It took place in the month of March, which also happens to be my birthday month, and more often than not the carnival week used to coincide with my birthday. Need I ask for more? As a spinning top, all of eight, I used to be all over the place. For a kid hopped up on sugar, being in that place used to be like finding gold. No, wait, not just finding gold but finding gold with ice-cream on it.

Every year as soon as the calendar was out, I used to earmark those special magical seven days of endless fun. You know? The merry-go-round, the giant wheel or even the snake charmers for that matter (told you it was a small town!) So much so, that at a tender age of seven I knew that I had to save up for the big event all round the year, because whatever I’d manage to save, mum and dad, tripled that sum, respectively. So the more I saved the merry-go-roundier it was. I’d show off my giant pool of money to my friends and cousins before all the fun began, because no one in my entire group could even come close to me. I was always on top of the pocket-money pyramid. (This from a girl, who has never been a topper in a class of forty – her entire life.)

Anyway year after year passed like that and by the time I reached eighth grade, I had become this self proclaimed version of ‘too cool for school.’ Suddenly the carnival seemed lame to me and I couldn’t make, what the fuss was all about? I don’t know when exactly this happened but suddenly the people who attended that thing, seemed nothing but big dorks to me.

‘Huh! Losers,’ I’d role my eyes, ‘I am just glad I am not into this stuff anymore.’

Little did I know that some fifteen years down the line – I’d miss being a part of that little space so much that suddenly the best lounges in the city wouldn’t make me feel one millionth as happy as I was back then. But at that point of time my hatred for the little carnival only increased with every passing year. Something that brought me such joy as a child was now nothing but a mere nuisance. ‘Urghhh what’s with so much noise?’ I’d whine every evening and my parents would just give me a blank expression, which was enough to send chills down ones spine. ‘Ah! But what do they know?’ I’d shrug.

Life zigzags funnily – at fifteen I thought I owned the world, at twenty six not any more. EYES WIDE OPEN.

Some five years ago I visited home and found my little nephew equally (if not more) excited about the whole thing. ‘What? They are still doing it,’ it was as if I had dumped that memory, underneath all that crap life had handed over to me (Heartbreaks, tears and irony to name a few).

‘Of course it’s going on,’ said my father, ‘What did you think? It’d stop just because some people stopped valuing it?’ SARCASM DRIPPING ALL OVER THE PLACE.

‘No, that’s not what I meant,’ I replied quickly, ‘how about I come along?’ I questioned, in my bid to do some damage control.

‘Sure why not? Although let me tell you it’s not half as fancy as things are in your big city.’

‘Papa, will you let go now?’

And so I did visit that carnival after a lapse of say eight nine years. And boy! Nothing had changed. Kids were still fluttering all over the space. There was firework. There was light and most importantly, there was joy. But you know what gnawed at my insides though? It was that feeling – when you let go of someone great in your life – just cause you thought you were too good for them. And when you realize your mistake you come running to them and nice people, that they are, they forgive in a jiffy. But it’s that niceness which kills you inside, for being so selfish to them at one point of time. It could be anyone, your ex, your best friend, or may be a distant cousin. That’s the feeling I got that day. Even though the best memory of my life had welcomed me back with an open heart – it was me who could not see eye to eye – with my sweet little carnival. It felt as if I didn’t belong there anymore. As if I had lost that right to claim it as my best memory and boy it hurt!

But for what it’s worth, I did see it as my first of the many eye openers to come. And there on onwards, there has been not a single year when I have not made it to that carnival, in the hope that it accepts me once again 🙂

Writing 101, day Eleven: Size matters

Where was I at twelve?

Oh boy! I created this blog just now and it already feels like the first day at a new school.

Confused and clueless I am diving head-on into a four feet pool (Which is exactly what I did when I was twelve). Eight stitches, I got. And if I were a boy, I probably would have ended up with a bald patch or something. Anyhow, my point is that I was at my boarding school when I was twelve. I guess it was kind of a given now, isn’t it?

I had newly shifted to the school and need I mention? I was not loving it so far. I belonged to a small town in the hills. There weren’t any great schools back there. So my parents had sent me packing because this was one of the best schools in the country. Yeah right, tell that to my sewed up head. Losers! Couldn’t even keep tab on a little girl – what were they going to do for the rest?

Anyhow, my hatred for the school didn’t last long. Soon enough I transformed from an alien, who loved busting her head, to one of their own. And before I knew I was feeling boarding sick. You know as opposed to ‘home sick’? Poor attempt, I know. But at least I tried to make you laugh.

So you know the teenage was upon us- a bunch of six girls, in an all girls boarding. Chocolates, candies and Enid Blyton were suddenly giving way to other boys oops sorry, I meant joys of life. Of course, this wasn’t going too well with the sisters at the convent. But we still somehow managed to keep our little secrets and sneak under the sister’s nose copies of romantic novels alongside the forbidden tuck.

Years passed and we delved deeper into this girl-boy thing. And it took us not more than a heartbreak or two to realize that we were better off at twelve. A scraped knee was any day better than a wounded heart.

It was great to not know a thing about the social media and yet have friends. It was not bizarre to not have a hundred thousand ways to connect and yet be able to make some real connections.

At twelve not everything stooped down to some sleazy double meaning innuendo. Back then we knew what girls looked like in human hair? From someone’s kind heart to an internet connection we took nothing for granted. We believed in sharing and not just on facebook. Lastly, it was so much better when ass was just a cute funny animal and pussy was just a cat!

So if you ask me, where I was when I was twelve? I’d say I was at a happy place.

 

This Father’s day!

My Hero, My friend, My Safety net

There’s no one who loves me more – I bet.

First time I rode my bike,

There you were, watching with pride.

As if I had conquered the Everest,

You rooted for me, you were the best.

 

Remember when I was afraid of dark?

Leave me alone and my throat would parch.

I was your daughter and you loved me alright,

But enough of the delusions? You had to set me right.

So you left me in the jungle — in the middle of the night,

With a rusty old clock and a funny flash light.

 

‘Say hi to the ghost if he stops by.’

‘Trust me you’ll like him, he is a funny guy.’

‘See you in an hour, beta I love you,’

And Off you vanished, without a clue.

No wonder I howled in the 5th gear

Through hell I went — to kill that fear.

 

Off course you didn’t leave, you were standing right by my side,

Only to teach me a lesson, you had to hide.

This I didn’t know at that point of time,

To me, what you had just done was a big fat crime.

Sure no one showed up all that while (not even a mirchi or a half sliced lime)

But the lesson I learnt was worth every dime.

 

Then came that time when my Hero changed

Your efforts to rescue – went all in vain.

Gone were the days of the ghost in the meadow,

Now I was keen to outrun your shadow.

I was this pesky little thing you know,

Who felt ‘She knew it all’ – Her biggest flaw.

 

Anticipating what lay in store,

You stood by my side, but said no more.

Not long after I learnt a lesson again.

This time not so easy and with a lot of pain.

Brokenhearted I came to you

Didn’t have to say a word – you already knew.

Blunder on top of a blunder,

How easily you forgive me? I wonder.

 

So I guess this father’s day,

What I am trying to say,

Is the thing that doesn’t get said enough

When I hit rock bottom and the going gets rough,

It’s your wise words which make me tough.

Dear father, I love you more than I care to confide,

You are my friend, philosopher and my guide.

I wish you health, joy and pride,

May the life ahead be a blissful ride!