The below article shares personal views on Emily Doe’s (Chanel Miller) case of sexual assault inside the Stanford campus by a fellow student in 2015. The case gained traction as the judgements passed down were initially lenient- that opened up the fallacies of the US court and the law systems. Click here to read her personal account of the horrendous events that followed suit, to gain more depth and understanding of my comments.


Feminism. Feminazi. How often we women are ridiculed with these words! How often is our fight for equal rights is dismissed as publicity stunts! And then they talk of women empowerment. Gender diversity at workplace. Oh, the double standards that this society is made up of!

The story of Emily Doe reminds me of those countless women worldwide who have been raped, abused and assaulted. A UN report cites that more than 250000 rape cases are reported worldwide annually. This is shocking because the world is moving towards providing human rights and equality to everyone rapidly, or it seems so.

It felt horrible to go through the entire 8 pages. I could feel all the pine needles, the dust, and the pain. I could feel the shivers running down my spine. It was terribly gruesome and graphic. I cannot imagine a human being undergoing such torture and harassment.

Apart from the statement, I did a little bit of digging. Her real name is Chanel Miller, the author of Know my Name. To protect her privacy, in all her court papers, she has been referred to as Emily Doe. I don’t know what kind of privacy are they talking about. When a woman has been photographed from all angles and the close-ups of her private parts have been flashed in the court, her horrific story published in the press, then what kind of privacy has been maintained? I could not follow.

Whenever we think about rape, the countries that usually strike our mind are nations like Afghanistan and Pakistan, South East nations like Bangladesh and India and parts of Africa. But do you know that the United States comes under the top 10 countries that are unsafe for women? Yes, US is the only western country that falls in the list. The country that claims itself to be the powerhouse for championing the cause of women’s rights and women empowerment. 

Now, coming back to Miller. Emily was in a party, where she was in an inebriated state, and was subjected to physical and sexual violence. The details of her harassment are dreadful and chilling. She was also victimized to digital penetration. That made the court who handed over the sentence feel that this was not that of a big deal.

Wait, what?

Turner, her traitor, a student of the prestigious Harvard (read literate and educated) was also intoxicated that night, and hence whatever heinous crime that he did was taken warmly on the ground that he was drunk, and being an excellent swimming candidate for Olympics just added fuel to the situation.

So, if you are drunk and you have a scholarship, does that make you more humane?

In other words, the judge felt that he was not that guilty as he should have been.

It’s true that the judge also sentenced him to register himself as a sex offender for life. But was justice served in a right manner? I feel it wasn’t.

The alcohol was blamed more than Turner. Emily was also challenged in court for being drunk that night. Her memory had gone blank, she did not recall incidents from that night. Turner and his lawyer took advantage of that. Turner was allowed to paint a picture of that night’s details, much to the dismal and horror of Emily.  She was asked way too personal questions that further shattered her core into pieces. She was mentally agonized time and again in the court when these questions were thrown at her, when all eyes were glued to her skin, when friends sent her “I am sorry” messages.

Emily became an international figure, and has been awarded the prestigious Glamour Award of the year twice for the courage and bravery that she depicted, for her fight, but at what cost? She lost her identity, succumbed to depression, suffered a lot of physical and mental trauma, and had to leave her job. She lost track of time, became emotionally vulnerable, and the way she visualises the world changed forever.

The need of the hour is to have fast track courts that handover apt punishments as quickly as possible. We need sensible people in courts who are better equipped at handling emotions. But most importantly, we need to teach our kids that it is not right to go beyond limits, limits that specifically concern women and their bodies, their rights and their lives.

Because justice delayed is justice denied.


This article fetched me the 1st prize in Tour De Force article writing competition by Alumni Relations Cell, SBM, NMIMS Mumbai (March 2021)

Mumbai is the city of dreams, both for humans, and certain animal species.

Got you there, huh?

Well, with a population of 20 million, Mumbai is the 2nd most populous city in India, with over one lakh strays roaming the streets. But that’s not all. The city is home to hundreds of thousands of birds, snakes, jackals and leopards (You can find them sneaking out from the Sanjay Gandhi National Park and the Aarey Forest).

But why are wild animals entering into the city in the first place?

  • Habitat destruction and fragmentation 
  • They are utilising human food sources, birdfeeders, pet food and garbage. 
  • They are slowly learning to adapt to human environment and have a high level of tolerance
Mumbai's leopards have killed humans – but could they also be saving lives?  | Cities | The Guardian

Amid the COVID 19 pandemic, even though humans were locked down, their actions continued to prove fatal to wildlife. Glue traps, ghost nets, plastic pollution, fishing lines & speeding vehicles continued to kill wildlife more than ever.

And that’s where my Tour de Force moment comes in.

I am associated with RAWW (Resquink Association for Wildlife Welfare), an organisation that deals with human-animal conflict mitigation and works towards urban wildlife conservation. The team has rescued over 20,000 animals since 2013, with over 1,600 animals rescued during the pandemic itself. They rescue, rehabilitate, provide immediate treatment and temporary foster care to the wild animals, birds, and reptiles in the city and ensure that they are released into their natural habitats.

RAWW | Rescue, Conserve, Coexist

I joined their team online in June 2020 and while I could not get an opportunity to work onsite because of the COVID restrictions, I still managed to play a key role in each and every rescue operation. Having worked with their Awareness department, I was fortunate enough to be a part of the awareness campaigns in schools and colleges and was instrumental in creating social media posts.

Having been an ardent fan of biology since my childhood, I remember bringing back bones and snakeskin, unidentified mushrooms and discoloured plants back home in order to study them. But then, life happened, and I joined an engineering college. All these years, I was yearning to work for something I am truly passionate about and RAWW gave me that platform. I have learnt so much about wildlife patterns and rescue in the last one year!

The volunteers take a lot of risks, travelling throughout the city to save distressed animals. Field volunteers are crucial in maintaining both, the safety of the humans in the vicinity and the animals, while also keeping themselves alert and careful. These volunteers are usually students who manage studies along with the full-time work of rescuing and taking care of animals.

RAWW | Rescue, Conserve, Coexist
Founder of RAWW, Mr. Pawan Sharma, Honorary Wildlife Warden, Thane, MH

While the team was taken aback with the sudden impact of the pandemic, they never compromised on the rescue efforts. I have witnessed the ultimate and most efficient use of managerial skills to utilise existing resources to the fullest, during emergencies.

  • First and foremost, we procured written permissions from the Forest Department to continue wildlife rescue operations. 
  • Keeping in mind the difficult situation, we created a COVID Lockdown Response Team with 22 members including rescuers, vets and fosters, and put them on a rota basis, so that none of them would be overworked. All these personnel are active workers even today. 
  • Feeding in-house animals (injured animals under treatment and observation) was a challenge but was taken care of efficiently.

The team has been absolutely relentless in maintaining its track record and has shined brighter and brighter. The organisation is well known across the state of Maharashtra and people who encounter any animal emergency, reach out to them first. I am proud to have worked for the wellbeing of animals, while also acquiring new skill sets!


All the references have been taken in from RAWW’s official website: https://www.raww.in/, and from curated quarterly and annual reports by the organisation, compiled by Ms Ritu Sharma.


Debashrita 🙂



This article is a subject of my limited knowledge and observations on the concept. This, in no way represents any staunch research. Please refer to the industry reports and the references shared for more details.

Last month I was helping out my mother with the food license renewal process (we have a small packaged drinking water unit). Earlier the designated website was FSSAI (Food Safety and Standard Authority of India), now it has a sister website known as FOSCOS (Food Safety Compliance System). The process is now online, hence both of us decided to try it out on our own, without taking the help of the so called “agents”.

Our license was going to expire on 16th of Jan, 2021, hence we decided to look into this on 13th of Dec, 2020, hoping that the license renewal has to be done prior to one month of the existing expiry date, as usually happens in the offline mode.

To our dismay, we found out that we had already been slapped a fine of Rs 1200 as “Late Fees”. The cost of renewal itself was 3000 bucks! A full hundred rupees fine per day! For an MSME (Micro, Small and Medium Enterprises)!

Long story short, we had to run to the agent thrice to get our existing credentials for the registered account of mom’s factory and to learn more about the inputs and documentation required for the same.

Similarly, it has been difficult to navigate through other government websites, the most recent one being the “Parivahan Sarathi” for Driving License, but that is a different story for another day.

The Govt. of India has digitalised all the manual paperwork processes in the anticipation that the transition from offline to an online mode would be quick and hassle-free, but they surely have not taken many disruptions into consideration. What is the use of having the processes online if you still have to pay a middleman to do things for you? It is not the case with food license, it is the same for BIS (Bureau of Indian Standards) and other licenses as well. The agents take their own share of the commission before passing on the benefits to the government officials responsible for overlooking the license formalities.

You get what you pay for, but you pay a lot here, my friend!

Whenever I open my social media accounts, I see tons of new start-ups basking in the glory of sponsored Ads and “Make in India” campaigns. I applaud the government for taking such a beautiful initiative. This has definitely increased the number of start-ups in the country, that are largely focussed on bringing technology to the grassroots levels. Agritech remains my favourite.

However, when I look at manufacturing industries, the support has been dismal. There has been a lot of buzz around the same but the final output has been negligible.

MSMEs, I feel, are the foundation of this country. India is home to the second largest number of MSMEs, just after China. They are instrumental in job creation for the lower sections of the society. These jobs require unskilled or semi-skilled employees and pay in the range of 5k-20k p.m. Currently, there are 634 lakh small scale units in the country. They either manufacture their own products or are used as franchisee units for larger brands like Bisleri and Cocacola.

I have done the SWOT analysis to help us understand the current market of Packaged Drinking Water in Odisha:

From where I come from, natural disasters are a big issue. Odisha is hit by cyclones, floods and droughts every year. Even though it is experiencing a steady economic growth, there are a host of issues plaguing the small manufacturing sector:

  • The rise of local mafia, who do not allow outsiders to do business, and harass the localites as well.
  • Erratic power supply. Even while you have electricity, if you don’t have a required voltage, you won’t be able to run your machines. This is particularly an issue during the summer months. And it is unviable for small scale units to have their own transformers.
  • A plethora of regulations. A small scaled food processing unit pays nearly 3 lakh rupees yearly as BIS and FOSCOS license renewals. Isn’t this too much? How can we grow if we have to spend a huge chunk of our turnover as licensing fees? (Regular checks by the concerned organisations are done on a semi-annual basis.)
  • Lack of laborers. Most of the people are migrating to other states in search of work, as they are paid higher in state like Gujarat and Andhra Pradesh. In Odisha, the state government is paying through their nose for food grains, hence a portion of the working class has lost all the motivation to earn their own bread. It has become difficult to employ workers.
  • Lack of support from the State Government

The entire system thrives on the extra money paid to the government officials to bypass the laws and get things done. This is an open secret. If you are honest, you cannot run a business here. Sometimes, I am concerned about the FDIs and the FIIs coming into the country. Maybe this is the reason why other South East Asian nations like Vietnam are suddenly seeming more lucrative to foreign investors now.

MBA has taught me words like sustainable growth and development, brand management and market potential, but there is perhaps no solution to the hardships faced by MSMEs. I can’t afford to change my bottle design immediately to ensure brand identification. I cannot drastically reduce my price to get a good sale. I cannot invest in automated machines till I get good returns from the market. I cannot afford advertising on traditional media. I cannot create brand loyalty.

I cannot do business here if I am strictly trying to walk on a straight line.

P.S. FOSCOS returned Rs 1400 that it had taken as fines, 2 weeks back. Life is not so bad after all 😛





These learnings are a part of my WeCare Internship with Adhikar Microfinance Limited, Bhubaneswar, organised by SBM, NMIMS Mumbai.

I have been awarded the Runners up position by Team Finstreet, the Finance Committee of KJ Somaiya Institute of Management, Mumbai, for their January Edition of Finly 2021.

Formal financial institutions have always shown a preference for urban over rural sectors, large-scale over small scale transactions, and non-agricultural over agricultural loans. Hence, Microfinance in India started in the late 1980s in response to the gap in availability of formal sources of credit and lending to the underserved and low income population.

In rural areas, women living below the poverty line are unable to realize their potential. Microfinance programmes are currently being promoted as a key strategy for simultaneously addressing both poverty alleviation and women empowerment. The self-help groups (SHGs) and joint liability groups (JLGs) of women as sources of microfinance have helped them to take part in development activities. The participation of women in SHGs and JLGs has made a significant impact on their empowerment both in social and economic lifestyles.

Microfinance companies in India conduct the following operational procedure: awareness creation, group formation (Small Help Groups), document verification (checking legal documents like Aadhar and Voter ID), loan sanction, loan disbursal & finally loan amount collection. The cycle from loan disbursement to the loan collection can last 24 months.


SPM refers to the effectiveness of the organisation in achieving its stated social goals and creating value for clients. With the PPI, some of the microfinance companies analyze whether clients continue to live at the same level of poverty over time, or whether they become relatively less or more impoverished. Initially, this seems to be a simple question of comparing baseline and follow-up surveys. This involves a level of data management and evaluation that is a step beyond and required for analysis of client targeting.


The Progress out of Poverty Index is a questionnaire of 10 questions to determine the social growth of a client and her family. This is measured during the 1st cycle of loan disbursement, and during subsequent cycles (in 2 years or so). The PPI checks whether the family saves up money after exhausting it on food, clothing and shelter.

The following is the list of some questions:

  • Number of school going children in the family (with gender)
  • Does the family own a bicycle?
  • Does the family own a motorbike?
  • Does the family own a television set?

SPM will benefit clients, giving them:

 ● Services more appropriate to their needs

 ● More product choices

 ● Better customer service

 ● A greater ‘voice’ in the programme.

There have been some observations:

  • Agriculture, being a family intensive business, does not necessarily describe a woman’s contribution or financial freedom on monetary control in the house. Though it provides food for the entire year, is not a sustainable business. Crop failure due to drought, cyclone or heavy rainfall might push the family much deeper into debt.
  • The loans are being utilised for miscellaneous activities like house construction and daughter’s wedding.
  • The loans, even though are being taken for income generation by women, are mostly being utilised by the male members in the families.
  • Baring the women who are actually participating in agriculture/animal rearing in their households, a majority of women have no motivation to start a business of their own. This is primarily due to lack of motivation and family support, and lack of awareness regarding the benefits of the same.
  • Since women have a higher emotional quotient, they easily trust ring leaders and are giving out their loan amount to them.


  • The process takes a minimum of 1 cycle of time period so that an accurate difference can be measured.
  • The women are not motivated enough to start their own businesses.
  • It is difficult to measure the growth of families in coastal regions, thanks to the frequent floods and cyclones.
  • The women, despite of such efforts at financial inclusion, still do not understand the prerequisites of financial education.
  • The improvement, if any, of a family does not guarantee the financial status improvement of a woman, as mostly the males are taking the decisions. If the woman chooses to remain unemployed, she has no say over the finances in the family.


  • According to sources, it has been observed that widows and unmarried women have a higher risk of defaulting than married women as they have no source of stable income. Also, the company has some very stringent policies towards these groups. Disabled persons are not given loans, per se as well.
  • Small businesses like bee keeping, mushroom cultivation, agarbati and bindi making can be some examples as they require minimum investment and yield good returns. These are sustainable businesses as well. This can start off as a novel initiative, to act as a moral boost for other women, as well as a respectable income generation source for the women without any support.
  • Apart from this, frequent interactions by ASHA workers or Anganwadi teachers on the importance of financial inclusion and self-employment might also lead to a spark of interest in women.


Changing the statistics via SPM is not a one-time job. It needs continuous efforts both from the microfinance organisations side as well as from the borrowers to increase their income levels. There is a need for research to understand more about the reasons why there is no zeal to incorporate micro businesses amongst rural Indian women.

Importance Of Employee Well Being To Improve The Bottom Line In Organisations

This article was a part of my submission to the SRF’s (Social Responsibility Forum) Article Writing Competition at SBM, NMIMS Mumbai. I bagged the 1st Runners-Up position 😀

With mental health being the new buzz word around, I am elated to share my experience with fellow B-School students here, from a different company background: a type of industry that usually doesn’t (read can’t) afford to provide placements at the top 20 Indian B-schools.

I am not sure about how many other B-Schools follow this procedure, but at SBM, NMIMS, we have a “We Care” internship from the 4th week of January to the 3rd week of February. The We Care: Civic Engagement Internship has been initiated to acquaint students to examine social realities, understand BOP markets, and engage them in civic activities. Students undertake projects which are aligned with various SDGs like healthcare and education. It was during my internship stint with a microfinance organisation that I realised how important is employee wellbeing is not only to the employee, but to the organisations as well.

Formal financial institutions show a preference for urban over rural sectors, large-scale over small scale transactions, and non-agricultural over agricultural loans. Hence, Microfinance in India started in the late 1980s in response to the gap in availability of formal sources of credit and lending to the underserved and low income population.

Microfinance companies in India conduct the following operational procedure: awareness creation, group formation (Small Help Groups), document verification (checking legal documents like Aadhar and Voter ID), loan sanction, loan disbursal & finally loan amount collection. This process is very tiring and cumbersome as it involves long travel hours (a normal day on field is working for 10 hours), talking to rural people, and then coming back to process the papers.

I encountered the following issues being faced by the junior credit officers:

  • Cumbersome paper work, with outdated software to work on
  • Long and erratic working hours (12+ hours a day)
  • Undefined work profile
  • Going out for loan collection for long hours without any food, water or sanitation facilities. (nearly 50% of the workforce is female)
  • There is also a fear of the money being stolen (as collection is purely in cash)

I used to follow a credit officer every day to his/her territory to understand how this business works. Apart from the business, I also got to learn about their expectations from the company that were not fulfilled:

  • Lack of advanced software training for the junior employees
  • Lack of safety procedures for women employees (employers and clients badmouth sometimes)
  • High attrition rate
  • Low salary

While the targets are usually met, the emotional and physical wellbeing of the employees is most often ignored. From what I have understood after studying one single company for 4 weeks, I have realised that there is no such concept of employee wellbeing in the industry, or is rare. The employees are always pressurised with unrealistic targets and are often forced to stay back in the job because they have nowhere to go. They have neither motivation, nor inspiration. They are tired, hungry, tensed and frustrated all the time.

There was a bright side to all this as well: following the high attrition rate, the company actually realised the blunder it was making. The HR now compulsorily tries to include the juniors in a training session once in every 2 months. The Regional Head pays a quarterly visit to the branch offices, and they have a healthy discussion around the issues that are bugging the employees. The colleagues go on picnic sometimes and cook their own lunch.

While nothing has been done till now to understand the mental health aspects of the employees in this industry, the rapid growth of the PM’s Jan Dhan Yojana has certainly kicked off a frenzied activity around small saving banks. This, I believe would provide stiff competition to the current microfinance industry and they would be forced to upgrade some of their practices. An effortless operational procedure would certainly take away more stress than a fat pay check could ever do!


Imagine a girl, of 24

Bubbly, easy going

Affectionate and approachable

With a hundred dreams in her eyes



She gave in, last night

Left a note with an empty bottle of morphine

She wasn’t raped, nor harassed

Nor acid attacked

She was just denied

Of true love


She was beautiful

In her own way

Wanted to love and be loved back


Had taken off her clothes

In such a haste (read trust)

Men do like it, don’t they? She had thought


Had rushed into things, true.

Had so much hope though

With stars in her eyes

And love in her heart


But alas, Caste and Religion were (are)

So much larger than her affection

Her soul was torn, minute by minute

Every time she was shown the door


Some might feel

It was a foolish decision

To be dead over a trivial matter like this

But this society does not know

How grateful it feels

When you are not addressed as

A spinster

A barren woman

A prostitute, or

A failure.


As a child

Caste and religion never mattered

As a kid

All the genders could play together

Unity in diversity

They used to say

Where did all that equality go

I wonder


I am curious to learn

How age old traditions

Hold more water

Than human emotions

How culture is more acceptable

But a woman’s fondness beyond her boundaries is not


As a woman

I have been told many times

That your skin color does matter

Your housekeeping skills will matter

High ambitions? Ditch them, girl

You are going to start a family

Not a business enterprise


As a woman

I have been made to realise

That I need to be pursued

And not the other way round

I need to be honest and faithful

And not the other way round


Can someone explain

Why a bare bodied woman

Draws more ridicule

Than an upper caste man,

Who has been accused of rape?


Roaming around at 3 in the night with men

Uncultured girl. Son, you better stay away from such women

Who have desires higher than you

Because they are all fired up with rogue lipstick and mascara

And will burn you with them too.


Acceptance is such a blessing

Desperation is a curse

It makes you love everyone

And makes you lose everything


So many movies

Fantasising romance

Surprisingly, they never talk

About the honour killings.


It seems all trivial

Till it hasn’t happened to your loved one

Just everyday newspaper gossip

Didn’t she have no shame?

Didn’t she love her parents?

Well, you need not judge her anymore

The bitterness has passed away

The honour of the family has been saved

She is not your daughter, hey!


I wish we were more tolerant

Towards cultural integration

Towards women and their ambitions

Towards the happiness of our youth

Without restrictions


As a society

I wish we could learn to love our children more

Than our temples, churches and mosques


I wish our God could be one

Our hearts and souls could be one

Because our Earth is one

And our Sun is, too


Hello, dear reader. Thanks for stopping by. I am hopeful that you would understand the emotions behind the poem before firing any sort of criticism. However, your feedback shall be genuinely accepted.

Hinting on inter-caste/religion/state marriages and societal pressures; increasing trend in casual relationships; women: their safety, life choices and ambitions; rising suicide trends amongst the youth; and cultural integration


Debashrita 🙂

Memoirs of a Geisha

This article has been taken in from the collection of a magazine titled “Characteristically Sketched” by the Junior Committee (2019-20) of Mantavya (The Literary and Quizzing Cell) of SBM, NMIMS Mumbai.

I rarely pen down Book Reviews or Character Reviews, but I had to write this. I got to learn so much about Japanese culture, and I am hopeful that after reading the book, you would fall in love with the character too. This also reiterates the fact that women, no matter from which part of the world they belong to, were, are, and will always be subjected to subjugation.

Chiyo Sakamoto (Nitta Sayuri) – Memoirs of a Geisha, By Arthur Golden

Chiyo, a 9 year old Japanese girl from the countryside, suddenly finds herself in the pleasure district of Kyoto. Her parents, old and disease stricken, sell her and her sister off in the hopes that the kids’ survival would be taken care of.  However, the survival comes with a price: Chiyo is sent off to a geisha house and her elder sister is sold off as a prostitute. The siblings make a desperate attempt to escape, but Chiyo is left behind and never hears of her sister again. Shortly after the incident, she learns that her parents are dead. To punish her for trying to escape from the house, she is demoted to perform servitude till she repays her debts of training. But, as things turn around, she is intrigued by a gentleman’s kindness one fine evening.  She decides to become a geisha to get back that love, and proves her mettle by being one of the most eminent geishas in town….

A still from the movie “Memoirs of A Geisha”, 2005

The story of a simple Japanese peasant girl, whose life has been reduced to rubble: a choice for others and a compulsion for self, this narrative is much more than cultural enlightenment for the reader. Chiyo makes us realise that life often leads us to the most unexpected destinations, at times even some unpleasant ones. Still, it is up to us to decide how we build our existence around it, despite a lack of motivation to drag on to the misery.   

Chiyo holds on to the unkind truth-that life has been unfair to her, yet she tries to find and create happiness in the midst of all the chaos. Because even if you never find happiness and perhaps you believe that you don’t even deserve it or that it wasn’t destined to happen, you never stop looking for a purpose in life, that is to seek your own little peace of mind. Chiyo manages to invoke the seeds of love in her wistful gardens to help her survive the ordeal and hopes to witness the full blossoms of her sincerest dedications.

The story presents various dimensions for the reader to relish on. Set against the backdrop of a World War era, it portrays the true visualisation of a woman in a Japanese society, about how her societal position is determined by the choices the culture makes for her; she has no say in her predestined fate. Entertaining men with art becomes the sole purpose of a Geisha; her beauty and talents sustain her livelihood. She is debarred from entering into romantic relationships, and has to suffice with being a sort of a consort-a half wife, a mistress. How can a society establish such a discrimination for its inhabitants, all made up of same flesh and blood? How can it devour upon a sect of its own womb to satisfy the other end?

Sprouting from such a negative environment, nevertheless, the character of Miss Chiyo Sakamoto is an amalgamation of optimism, determination, courage, kindness, hard work and perseverance- a concoction that we all must acquire to pull through this graveyard of unborn dreams and unspoken stories. 

Women Empowerment: Hello or Hollow in the 21st century?

Talk about women’s empowerment in 21st century is shameless: Shoojit Sircar

Last night, I was having an argument with a friend of mine about equality between men and women.

“This is a patriarchal society. Men always dominate over women. Women are considered to be a weaker section of the society, who continuously have to face discrimination on the basis of gender, color and body structure. There is no equality- be it in job wages or distributing household work.”

“There is a difference between fairness and equality”, he said. “You feminists mix everything up. “

“Can you define both the terms for me?” I asked.

“Fairness is when we do not discriminate between people. We give them what they deserve. Equality is when we start treating both the parties uniformly.”

“I think it is high time that we are given what we deserve. Women around the world are still fighting for basic rights, i.e. human rights. Why can’t we enjoy the same laws that are for men? Why everything must be rewritten for women?”

“Look”, he continued, “You just want rights without responsibilities. I’ll give you an example. You want to enter temples that forbid women. You only think about your right. What about the faith of the thousands of devotees that is being compromised for the sake of your stubbornness? Is this fair for the devotees? Is this equality? Is this feminism? To try and become men? Honestly speaking, if men would behave like you girls then how would this world be?”

Isn’t it sad that a temple that denies women entry actually makes more headlines and has a faster speed of judgment than a rape case? And, it has always been like this: cows are more important than women in India.

A poor woman cannot take a microfinance loan if she is a widow or is unmarried. If she is married, she has to have her husband as her nominee and if she is a widow, her son would be her nominee. Unmarried women can have their unmarried brothers as nominee. Here’s the irony: microfinance in India started with the sole purpose of uplifting poor women. And I believe that a woman without an income source and a life partner is the most vulnerable in the society.

“I am sorry to say this, but take another example. Feminists always complain about glass ceiling at workplaces. But studies show that after 35, most of the women tend to either leave the organisation or decide to slow down in their career paths because they focus more on their families than their jobs. Women, though, are good at multitasking, lack negotiation skills.

They tend to be more agreeable than men are. Men tend to be more aggressive and egoistic and hence can sign off a deal better.”

Needless to say, feminism has hurt the pride of men more often than unemployment has. Men love to be dominant. I have seen endless jokes on how men are afraid of their wives and how wives take decisions for the family. Do they?

I could not argue with him that night. That night, I felt as if I have been silenced forever. This is 2020 and I live in a Tier 2 city. I am an ardent blogger who writes extensively on women. Why are we still discussing about this?

Maybe, he has got a point. Throughout history, women have been portrayed as weaklings, not because others have forced that notion onto them, but as they have felt the same. I have seen girls in mechanical engineering workshops acting like fragile pieces of glass, diverting their work to guys. I have seen mothers telling daughters not to take up sports as they might hurt themselves or get dark by running around in the sun. I have also seen a lot of housewives putting up all the chores that would require them to go out onto their husbands. Knowingly or unknowingly, we have crept into an orthodox mindset that crushes our ambitions before they take roots.

The ongoing patriarchy since generations has created a vacuum for a well balanced society, where currently women are being given reservations and opportunities, at the cost of the prospects for the general public, specifically men. Today, the general average male without an EWS status is the most unfortunate candidate in competitive examinations. Why? Because he has his seats given away as uplifting opportunities to the “lesser mortals”.

After this entire discussion, though I realised that though fairness is a very important criteria for women empowerment in its own merit, equality is a necessity as it would further push them to grow in their lives. A girl child needs to be treated the same way as a male child is. Let them play together with cars and dolls. Let’s not celebrate women’s day more vividly than fathers’ day. Let a man’s success story be an inspiration for a small girl somewhere, if there is no lady around to guide her.


I remember the day Dad was smiling at me, standing outside the college auditorium. He could still notice my anxiety amongst 800+ students on the campus, trying to make a space of their own.

I was dressed up in formals- no heels, no makeup, and hair tied back into a bun. I looked plain and ordinary. I was brimming with excitement, yet, somehow, I had a feeling that I did not belong here.

Dad left for Ethiopia around afternoon, while I was in the mesmerizing auditorium of SBM, NMIMS, one of the top 20 B-Schools of the country.

Ever since I had started my preparation for CAT, my dad had envisioned me studying from this university. Somehow, he could feel the resonance between my strengths and NMAT. Somehow, he knows everything.


8th Sept, 2020

Dad was 3 days old in quarantine, and he called me to the first floor. I stood outside, while he was sitting on a quaint chair in the centre of the room.

“I want you to type out a scholarship form and a notice.”

“What for?” I was curious.

“I want to give some money to meritorious girl students from my old school every year who are not getting any sort of assistance from the state government to fulfil their education.”

“But, but….. you don’t have a job right now!”

“I have created a fixed deposit just for this cause. It won’t be a burden. Just a few thousand rupees every year. Just think how much value it will bring into the kids’ lives!”

There was a long pause.

“I have paid minimal fees for my schooling, and now, I have everything one could ever ask for. I can never repay back the burden of the debt that I carry on my chest.”


My father was born in 1966 in a remote village of Kendrapada district in Odisha. My grandparents had 6 other kids to look after, and were poor farmers. There was never enough food for everyone at home.

My dad was not the brightest of all the siblings, but he was the most determined of the lot. He knew he could change his destiny.

“If you are born poor, it’s not your mistake, but if you die poor, it’s your mistake.

-Bill Gates

I remember one story from his childhood about how his school uniform was torn beyond repair and he had to borrow a pair of trousers from his neighbour to attend school that day. Another story of how my grandma used to go to bed with an empty stomach on a regular basis gives me the chills because by the time Dad used to come back from his tuition classes at night, there would be no food left.

Dad wanted to become a doctor, but he did not have enough percentage to be accepted into the Science stream of his local junior level college. So, he decided to take up Commerce and became a CA instead.

Years of burning midnight oil has partially damaged his left eye. But any damage to his dedication and confidence? Never. Dad still did not have money when he was in Kolkata, while preparing to be a CA. He would end up sitting in the library for straight 12 hours a day, would have 2 meals a day and walk to destinations to save money.


It has been nearly 27 years since he had started his career, and my father is doing well. He resigned as a General Manager of Finance and Accounts of a Mumbai based construction company. He was posted in Ethiopia, a country in Western Africa, and was heading the construction of a National Highway between Sudan and Ethiopia, backed by the World Bank.

From carrying his old cycle across muddy pools of rainwater in the late 1970s to making his daughter study at such a prestigious (read expensive) institution, my father has surely come a long way.

I start questioning my existence when I wonder about him and his sacrifices. My schooling, my graduation, and now my Masters….he has always risen above my expectations. He has always motivated me to work hard and excel. He is the one who teaches me how to dream. I can’t remember the countless souls who have given up on me; but my father has always had my back. Now when I finally see him in front of my eyes after 6 long months (he came back via an Air Bubble, thanks to the Indian Embassy), I feel that I am the luckiest daughter on this planet.

I have never, ever felt like I did not have an opportunity that other kids of my age have/had. Now as I am growing up, I realise that our parents sell their dreams to buy ours.

Life has been harsh to him; has pulled him down, tossed him here and there, and ridiculed him. But he has no regrets. He is grateful to God for all his blessings.

I wish we could all take a page or two from his story.

P.S. God could not be everywhere, so he created Fathers!

What a sheer coincidence that I decided to write this piece on International Literacy Day, 8th Sept! This story reminds us that education is multidimensional, and helps in the upliftment of not only the current family, but subsequent generations.


Debashrita 🙂


Hello World!

The Funky Writer is back on her pavilion with the most hashtagged topic of the week- mental health.

First things first:

People have been posting stuff like “If you wanna talk, I am here.”

No need to call them up to rant out feelings, dude. They are the same people who would never even call you back if they missed your call! As soon as this popular news would die out, once again mental health would be the same hush-hushed topic that generations have decided to sweep down their beds.

Okay, so coming back to me, I am here to talk about depression and anxiety. I wanted to write about this since last year but finally I have managed to pitch in all my thoughts into this article. I hope that this would be helpful for people who are struggling with keeping their minds healthy as well as for people who want a lucid understanding of the concepts.



We all seem to be sad sometimes, maybe we are in grief too, what is the big deal? We are humans, and as emotional creatures, it is okay to hit the low. How do we distinguish depression from sadness and grief?

Sadness is a natural emotion, just like happiness or anger. You express sadness when, say, your dad didn’t fulfil his promise of getting you a Hotwheels or you had a fight with your sibling. But it is temporary, and it goes away soon.

Grief is an aggravated version of sadness. It can go on for a prolonged period of time, when you are dealing with a stressful situation, like, the death of a loved one, or you being denied admission to your dream university.

Depression is a state of prolonged sadness, that starts off with a reason and then slowly the reason evaporates but you still have that void in your head. If you remain continuously sad for more than 2 weeks, you are depressed.

One of the major differences between grief and depression is that grief doesn’t make you feel bad about yourself, while depression does. Some of the behavioural changes include:

  • Incessant crying for no reason
  • Excessive eating or flunking meals
  • Absentmindedness
  • Sudden emotional outbursts, like anger or sadness
  • Extreme emotions, like excitement or feeling down
  • Anxiety and nervousness
  • Stress and frustration
  • Confusion, taking time to make the simplest of choices (say choosing a food item or a dress)
  • Staying aloof, or getting attached too often (to people)
  • Difficulty falling asleep or feeling sleepy/lethargic the entire day
  • Negative minded even in the most positive situations
  • Self-harming (like hitting head/hands against the wall)
  • Self-talk
  • Phantom pain (bodyache, etc.)
  • Suicidal attempts
  • Succumbing to intoxicating pleasures like drinking/smoking
  • Discontinuation of hobbies

Depression is curable, though it can come back into your life again and again if not treated properly. It is not a stand-alone condition. I have created this cycle for a better understanding:

Long periods of depression can cause a reduction in performance due to a lack of concentration, leading to low self-esteem. This can be further aggravated by frequent comparison of self-performance with others. Anxiety and nervousness can set in when you are under confident or are anticipating negativity in any activity that you undertake.  

Anxiety is our body’s response to stress. It is normal to panic during situations like interviews or elocutions. However, if you are constantly dwelling under fear of anything and everything under the sun, then you are getting anxiety attacks. Some of the symptoms include:

  • Increased heart beat (a thumping sensation in the chest)
  • Dry mouth
  • Cold sweat
  • Tremors (limbs start shaking)
  • Negative thinking

When we are performance centric and face dead ends, we seem to be more anxious than depressed. The fear of failure or log kya kahenge can push us into depression. Feelings of loneliness and unworthiness can further worsen the situation. When we start seeing ourselves through the eyes of others, we constantly fail to achieve happiness or success.

But why are we depressed?

The following reasons might hand out a clue or two:

  • The loss of a loved one (physical or emotional)
  • You have suffered violence/betrayal that might be sexual or non-sexual in nature (physical or mental)
  • Work/academic/family stress
  • Prolonged illness, like organ failure or diabetes
  • Anxiety
  • Living someone else’s life
  • Dissatisfaction with current lifestyle
  • Genetic/hereditary

What to do if you are anxious/depressed?

The first step to ease out your pain is to accept that depression and anxiety are for real and will not pass away like a midnight summer dream. Only then you would be able to work on eradicating the sadness from your life.

Some of the following activities are worth a try:

Eat, sleep and repeat!

One of the best ways to de-stress is to maintain a healthy lifestyle. A good diet and a good night’s sleep of 7-8 hours can leave you refreshed and relaxed.

The best perk of staying at home is maa ke haath ka khana. Eat good food, eat a lot of it if you want to, exercise a bit, and turn off the lights by 11 p.m. Stay close to your family. You can see the change in yourself!

Keep a journal.

If you feel that you have no one to speak to, then voice out your concerns on paper. Sometimes, even after talking to people, your chest might feel heavy. Then in that case just write down your feelings. You’d feel better. Making this a regular habit can go a long way in making you emotionally stronger.

Restart your hobby.

One of the biggest hints that you’re depressed is your lost interest in hobbies. It can be, indeed, very difficult to do something that is not much required in your daily life for survival, like cooking, studying or going to office. However, hobbies can give your life a new perspective to work on.

I had a hard time writing this article, since I had lost touch of my keyboard. My hands could only type out assignments. I just used to listen to music, but now I shake a leg and put in my tune while my song is on.

Say goodbye to negativity.

Many personal incidents have brought me to the conclusion of staying away from toxic people who are forever jealous of you or are angry at you and hence keep on hurling sharp, hurtful statements at you. Many times it has happened that people have reached out to me for favours only; they are not concerned about my time or wellbeing.

Stay away from such people. Learn to say NO. They might be your ex colleagues or old schoolmates. At first, it might seem as if they are trying to stay connected to you, but in reality, all they want are favours and once they’re done with you, they’re done with you. And what are you left with? An empty heart, and possibly you might denounce mankind.

Sharing is NOT Caring

When you keep talking about your troubles to everyone, firstly, they would not like to hang around with you and secondly, they might use these statements against you: to put you in a bad light or simply, make you the talk of the town. A personal advice is to talk less and listen more. Talk to selective people only, like your closest friends and family members, who love you and do not judge you unconditionally.

Binge watch shows.

I was never a fan of Amazon Prime or Netflix. But sometimes, when your mind is full of negative thoughts regarding yourself and your surroundings, it is good to take a diversion and feed something else into your brain. This way, you look forward to events unrelated to your life and might find solace in stories. Thanks to the lockdown, I got a chance to watch some of the specific series and movies that I had wanted to watch since years. Have a look into my lockdown list:

You can also read your favourite books if you are a bibliophile instead of a movie person. Sharing a list of the PDFs that I have:


You know it’s time to go to the doctor when you are not able to handle your feelings with home remedies and counselling by family and friends. Consider going to a professional counsellor first before visiting a psychiatrist. Bells start ringing when you are not able to focus on your day to day life without having a good cry or imagining about how worthless you are. Warning bells: when you tend to get suicidal thoughts or attempt suicide or self-harm yourself in the anticipation of ending your life to get rid of the suffering.

Counsellors are active listeners, and can mostly pinpoint the source of sadness. They would help you to focus on the positive aspects of life, by telling you to conduct simple exercises like making a list of positive things in life and putting it as a mobile wallpaper. They also might tell you to take tests to determine behavioural patterns. Counselling is like a placebo effect; when someone shows interest/confidence in you, you tend to bloom up and feel better, as depression makes you an easy prey to judgements by the public.

A counsellor might refer you to a psychiatrist when plain good thoughts don’t work; your brain needs medical intervention.

Your psychiatrist might prescribe you anti-depressants on the basis of the severity of your condition. For example, if you have moderate depression, then your doctor might prescribe you a low dose antidepressant.  

What to do if your loved one is depressed?

Talk to them. Listen to them. Kindly do not give them any advice in the beginning. Let them work on themselves. If they fall down, you pull them up, but don’t keep on pushing them unnecessarily. They know what is right and what is wrong, they just need time to figure it out.

Spend time with them. Eat their favourite foods, go out and take a walk in the lap of nature. Fresh air always helps.

Slowly, show them the positive side of life. This might take days, and frequent counselling might be required. However, if you feel that you need expert guidance, then it is a good practice to go to a professional.

I hope that my article helps. Remember, mental health is as important as physical health, and you need healing and peace to progress in life. Do whatever it takes to be happy. Just don’t get hurt and don’t hurt others. You never know when someone’s suffering starts!

Stay safe, and take care.



Amma :)

Till 31st March, 1996, my mom was known as Sabita Satpathy.

The day after that, she also came to be known as mummy. A mummy to a dumb kid.

I do not remember a lot of details from my childhood, but yes, I have memorised all the stories that my mom has told me over the years.


People could not believe that my mother was pregnant with me. She never looked like she was carrying a baby inside. She was a thin, 45 kg weakling back then. Till her 8th month, she used to ride her scooter to her office.

My mom is amazing.

Just before a month of her due date, the gynaecologist revealed that I had developed some complications. The umbilical cord had got wrapped around my neck, and hence I wasn’t getting proper nutrition.

I was a disaster after birth. I had pneumonia like symptoms, was underweight and eerily quiet. The doctors were not sure about my life expectancy.

But my mom kept me close to her bosom, her body heat flowing through my skin. She spent around 3 hot, sultry months in a warm room so that I could recover.

Did I?

Yes, and I was still a mess. I made a huge fuss over my food. Mummy would always carry a big packet of Apple flavoured Cerelac in her bag.

When I started going to school, mummy had a hard time waking me up and getting ready.

Eating was always a problem. She would feed me while I would be half asleep.

I used to make a lot of mistakes during homework. Mummy sat through very patiently through all my wrong sums and misspelt words. I remember the last thing that she ever taught me was how to draw a C-60 Buckminster Fullerene.

Years went by, and I hit puberty. There were a lot of physical changes involved, and I was confused.

Till I saw blood.

I started crying. I was in 9th grade. Again, mom came to my rescue.

Well, for all those years, how did I reward her? By being rude and disrespectful. By being a headstrong teenager who had no control over her tongue.

Would you believe, that mom still used to wake me up, feed me, comb my hair and drop me at the bus stop during my graduation years as well?

Finally, in 2017, her little bird left the nest, and realised what a cruel world it is.

Her little bird finally realised the importance of curfews and home cooked food.

Today, I stay in Mumbai, and she lives in Bhubaneswar. We don’t meet frequently, but I know that I am always in front of her eyes, my voice ringing in her ears, and my fingers wrapped around her strong arms, arms that have grown stronger over the years.


Arms that have carried the weights of a disturbed family and a difficult job.

Arms that have cleaned rooms and have done excessive gardening.

Body that has endured pain and disfigurement because of multiple pregnancies.

Palms that have grown rough by washing clothes and doing dishes.



Just want to apologise for failing to be a good daughter.

Want to apologise for not being that star student you have always dreamed of being one.

Want to apologise for not being the tough woman like you are.

I know this isn’t enough. I am sorry.

Happy birthday, Amma.



All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them. Walt Disney

Hello World!

This is your cute and lovely Funky Writer live from Mumbai (yes, its Aamchi Mumbai from Aamcha Pune), and it is going to be my first blogpost from the sapno ka shehar. With entrance exams just around the corner and being bogged down by the plethora of questions my classmates and juniors have on my quest to NMIMS, finally I have decided to address all of them. So folks, here we go!

Autobiographies and biographies are filled with abundant number of success stories, and every candidate wants to relive them, but does anyone think about the failures or hardships involved? People are just curious about the final destination, and not about the journey itself. TBH, it is the journey that matters the most, and if you’ve walked on the right path, you’ll tread on blossoms and not on thorns.

Some of the FAQs are:

  1. What was your score in NMAT? (Tumko to kabhi NMAT main interest tha nahi. Ab score kyun puch raha hai?)
  2. What were the sectional cut offs? (Kabhi kabhi na coaching ki websites check kia karo, acha lagega)
  3. How’s life at NMIMS? (Will answer this in a separate blogpost. Stay tuned!)
  4. What’s the average package that you’re gonna get? (Any fool can make money, but it takes a wise man to save it!)
  5. Is it worth it? (Nope, it is not. I paid 20 lakhs only to do networking.)
  6. Are you a PlaceCommer? (I am with the Literary club. Will this society accept me?)
  7. Yaar tune kaise kia? Tu toh topper hai tere liye to aasaan hoga. Mujhe bhi padha de!

Coming to question 7, bhai, agar itna hi aasaan hota, toh mujhe khud 3 saal nahi lagte isko clear karne ke liye. Ek hi attempt main ho jata!

I know you must have heard it a zillion times, but I’ll reiterate it anyway: Anyone can clear management entrance exams……

…………only if they choose the right exam for themselves!

That’ s right! The problem lies in the fact that we try to ace each and every test that comes our way. But let’s face the truth: not all of us are whizkids and are not capable of scoring  98+ percentile in CAT/XAT/MAT. So being smart helps you out more than working hard does.

Choose the exam that suits your personality, and choose your own method of studying, because one size never fits all of them!

This is India. We don’t get to choose our careers, and you’re talking about choosing an exam!

Well of course you can. The ideal way of clearing a test is to know your strengths and match it to the challenges the exam throws at you. If you don’t know yourself, then seek help. Parents are the best people to elaborate on your personality.

My father made me realise that exams like NMAT and TISSNET make my study a breeze rather than a hailstorm. Solving easy to medium questions gave me confidence, and NMAT is the best platform to provide you that liberty. It has easy to medium level questions to be solved under a competitive timeframe. The sections are easier than CAT, and if you are preparing for CAT, then you can easily clear NMAT, TISSNET and SNAP. The verbal section has good RC that are actually comprehendible and word meanings that you can actually learn. The Quant section too, is easy. It just needs your attention and practice. Logical reasoning is different than what CAT tests now, but is still way easier than that.



What I did?


Practice makes a human perfect. I am a monkey though but still XD

Okay, jokes apart, I have been preparing for CAT since Nov 2015, i.e. 6th semester of B.tech. I had started with an aim of clearing CAT 2016 so that immediately after my graduation, I could jump into the management pool. But well, with a 70ish percentile, I went ahead into the sea of IT and Accenture welcomed me into the corporate world.

I did not give up. May 2017 and I landed in one of the Accenture offices at Pune with tons of Java and Oracle training. After the training, I got my first project that had night shifts. But despite of these little troubles, I still continued with my preparation, and this time, I crossed 80 percentile.

80 is nothing in today’s world. People with 100 percentile still don’t convert IIMs! He he.

Right, dude, but you don’t reach a 100 without an 80, do you?

But it was true. I was disappointed. I wasn’t learning much at office, they were converting everything into automation. My job as a manual tester faced a dead end. Though I was improving in my CAT prep, but the rate of improvement was meagre and marginal. At this rate, it would take me 3 more years to get a seat at XIMB! I thought.

I did not know what to do. Surely, there had to be some way out!

There was. Daddy made me realise that each child has his/her own capabilities, and if not CAT, then why not NMAT? Why look at NMAT as if it is a secondary exam to CAT? Why not focus on it wholeheartedly as an individual exam?

And so, NMAT became my CAT. I purchased the NMAT by GMAC book and solved it from cover to cover. I was also a part of the weekend coaching classes at IMS. I took their NMAT test pack and practiced all tests. I solved and resolved all the questions. I treated the book and the IMS site as my Holy Grail.

Not to mention, I scored 210 in NMAT 2018 and today I am here at NMIMS Mumbai in the MBA core program of 19-21. It was a close call: 209 was the cut off! But it doesn’t matter, because our target is to bag a seat, and not top the exam. (Well, that’s a separate luxury not everyone can afford, so, I’ll stick to my original intention of writing this story)

You need to spend an adequate amount of time with your books, study material and the tests. The SIMCATs and the All India Test series are very, very important. Practice and understand where do you lack. During the initial days of preparation, practice all types of questions. Try to understand where and why are you failing to solve. Is it a particular type of question? Or a chapter that is bothering you? Get your doubts cleared, and keep practicing.

THIS IS NOT UPSC. You need not learn everything. During the initial months of preparation, get a knack of everything that is on your plate, but then towards the end, you need to be selective about the greens, grains and the meat. Focus on your strengths, because power shall give you confidence. If you feel energized about certain sections or questions, gulp them down in such a way that you get them right every time. You would feel like studying more and more when you have more correct attempts, and in those moments of absolute energies, focus on your weak areas.

*Could have written an article on TISSNET as well but scored just 72 when the cutoff was 74. (sigh)*

Choose your exam carefully, because this act can save 1 whole year of preparation. And to choose well, you need to be thorough with your syllabus, your concepts and all your exam patterns. Choosing does not mean that you blatantly ignore other exams, it simply means that you shift your attention to one exam specifically, yet keep learning for other tests side by side.

Some fast facts on NMAT: https://www.imsindia.com/mba-entrance-exam/NMAT/structure.html

How I did?

By more practice!

There is never enough time for oneself when you are a bachelor, a full time employee and an MBA aspirant, all at the same time. To make sure that you have time, you have to make time. You won’t get extra hours from office, rather, overtime shall become a norm for you. (Just wait and watch)

First of all, make a realistic timetable that you’ll religiously adhere to. The timetable should be followed at all costs.

Secondly, check out your style of learning. I love to learn from videos. Someone might love to read from hard bound textbooks. Your style plays a very important role in keeping your mind CAT driven even though your body is too tired to take tests.

Go through this to understand your style: https://www.learning-styles-online.com/overview/

Thirdly, stay with people who make you happy, surround yourself with awesome colleagues,  and eat good food that makes you happy, too. For a peace of mind, it is important that you study in an environment that is stress free and makes you feel at home. (This is for the working professionals who do not stay at home. For people who do, parents are more than enough. You’re halfway there, bro!)

I used to wake up early, get dressed up and then study. After reaching office by 8.30 a.m., till 9.30 a.m. I used to go through some word meanings or solve sums at the cafeteria. I tried to ensure that not a single minute of the day goes wasted. During weekends, I had my coaching lectures. So, I kept my weekends for reaching weekly targets.

(You too, can make a target like completing a math exercise every day.)

And, it’s okay to do bad in mock tests, or perform worse than others, because the key to success is consistency and not a high score once in a blue moon. We’re average people and we’ll try our best to move on. We’ll set our own realistic limits and we’ll show the world how it’s done!

Work hard, but party harder! I am a big party person. After a long day at office and mind boggling coaching sessions, the mind tends to get cluttered. So, it is important to give space to recreation as well. (I went out for dinner or movies almost every Saturday night :p)

Finally, my dear juniors, if you do not have a work ex or have a few months of work ex, it’s all right. You can’t have a tailor made personality for MBA. You are what you are and your experience sets you apart from others. Your achievements, hobbies and extracurriculars play an important role in your selection. So, make sure that you are well versed with your deeds. Never forget your passion.  Success shall follow suit!

If you’ve any other queries, shoot on the comments section. I’ll be glad to help. I love you all 😀

Good Luck!




“Sir, I am planning to go home this June. I have booked the flight tickets. Kindly grant my leave. It is only for 5 days, my father stays abroad and he’s coming home, and……….”

“But you are new to this project. And you test data prep count is so low.”

“Sir, I’d be able to enhance my efficiency if I get a training session.”

“You are not trying to learn. When other juniors can write queries, then why can’t you? Just think about it. I don’t know anything. If you need to extend, then extend. If you need to have working weekends, then let it be. This is not a training program. You are here on your own, you have to learn it on your own.”

“And I am sorry about your monetary loss but please reschedule your vacation if possible. The project needs you at this moment.”

I wake up with a start. It was already 7.15 a.m and I must catch my bus by 8.

I gaze at the ceiling, calm and white. I stare at it for some time, thinking about my hereabouts in life.

I think about my grandparents, old and lost. Lost to the cold hands of time and death.

I might not say this, but I miss my grandparents. Last Sunday I was at the movie theatre and there was this old man in a white dhoti and kurta walking in front of me, being guided by his little granddaughter. For a moment, I felt like grabbing that man from behind and giving him a big hug. I had this huge temptation, but I decided against the heinous action.

I might get slapped in public for harassing poor old men, I thought. Hey, but one day I’d also get old!

The mere thought of being in my 40s shuddered me.

Imagine me, a 40-year-old single woman with greying hair and a bulging tummy, a wrinkled face and a lonely heart.

Then my thoughts rush towards my parents, about how hardworking they are, how much effort they still put on me so that I can become a successful human being (if ever I am considered as a human). My mother’s face dazzles in front of my eyes. How beautiful she is. There is sweetness even in her anger. There is her pride even in my failure. The image of cooked fish tickles my taste buds and I fall in love with my mom all over again.

My eyes mist. I want a big hug. But I’m 1600 kms away from her, trying to eke out a living in another city.

I still remember the day when I had been to the Office of the Engineers Association at my place. I had my medical counselling scheduled there. It was a long queue and I got a seat in a private medical college. I had my own swag back then. My sensible brain always decided to listen to tons of shitty advices that my surroundings had to belch on my head, and I’d gracefully gulp it all down.

“There is no career if you graduate from a private college. They aren’t doctors, they are quacks! They don’t know anything! Drop a year, and go for a government college!”

Now when I see my friends doing practicals and posting their statuses proudly on Facebook on cadavers and dentures, I feel defeated. I feel cheated by my own soul. I try to run away, but this is, my friend, the love for Biology, that outlasts you even though you try to outrun it.

I wish I had put my head to some better use apart from banging it on walls!

I take my bath in a haste. My hair is unkempt, and my skin dry. I put on my Kurta and rush to the bus stop.

Life at office can be interesting, if you view it that way.

One day, I merrily announced to my girlfriends that I wanted to visit the local zoo. One of them said, “You go to the zoo every day and see so many unique and creepy creatures. Isn’t that enough for you?”

Well, what do they say? Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.

I walk towards my seat with a heavy heart and an empty stomach. Migration requests, Bugs, status and security mails. I quickly go through all of them and unread Skype messages, if any. There is this extensive list of Test Case IDs waiting for their Employees, so I pick up the not-so-fortunate ones and start working on them.

I open my SQL Database and lo behold! As usual the system is slow, the workload huge and the time short. I roll my eyes in disgust.

Fast forward one hour. The screen is proudly showing off its flaws, and I am here, trying to comprehend the issue with my limited, disinterested intellect.

“Employer Class Coverage not found”

“Invalid identifier, Error at line 31, column 12”

What the hell is this!

I never shy away from asking help, and so I frantically text and call up everyone on my favourites list of “Skype for Business”. Their response to my distress call is equally chaotic, but anyways, this is corporate life and we manage with whatever we have. We are great managers, I must say, because we work around a puddle even though we need an ocean.

I try my best to resolve the issues, but sometimes, things don’t fall in the right places. They just dance and jump around the screen, and mostly give me headaches and occasionally, heartaches.

Once again, a tear trickles down my face, but here I am not alone, there is this crowd of developers and testers, furiously banging at their keyboards, their eyes glued to the screens, their right hands at the mouse. No one knows what’s going on, yet everyone has this great spasm of dedication plastered to their faces, waiting for the second last working day of the month.

No one seems to notice. I quickly wipe it off.

Happiness can be found in the darkest of the places, only if you remember to switch on the light. These fireflies are known as friends. These beautiful, yet demonic angels share tablespace with me for lunch every afternoon. We never miss a session and are always updated on the latest jokes and gossips. Ah, what a life 😀

I have this common Indian fantasy of a handsome guy bumping into me and then I, looking at him. There’d be romantic music in the background, with a gentle breeze that would scatter my hairs all over the place, and I’d gracefully tuck them to the back of my ear, my silver dangling earring stuck firmly to it.

I’d kill him with my smile.

The guy would look at me, his mouth open. He’s smile back sheepishly too.

Hundredss of employees and 385 days have passed but this scenario has never ever happened to me.

The clock strikes 6.30 p.m. and I am done for the day. But then my senior tells me to sit down and finish the work.

“We need to submit this by EOD.”

“But it’s already 6.30, I’ll miss my bus.”

I look back at the clock. It is 9.30 p.m. already, and my tummy is growling with hunger. I look forlorn and depressed.

My senior looks back at me. She is a beautiful woman with a pale face and a thin body, her eyes red from all the efforts on the work. A highly dedicated employee. Extends her shift almost every day without expecting any extra perks and never asks for a leave despite of illness.

“Do you know coding?”

I tell her the story of my campus placement. The Cognizant story. This interviewer started on a great note, asking me questions on friction and kinetics. Then he came straight to the point.

“Can you write a program on how to remove all vowels from a string?”

“Sorry Sir, I can’t write programs.”

“Okay then. Thank you very much!”

I ended my story with an air of superiority. “I am from the Mechanical department. We used to bunk our programming classes.”

“Oh, then you know, you should think of another profession. You won’t survive in this industry if you don’t like coding.”

I come back home, tired and confused. I don’t know what is going on.

I close my eyes and count my days to see the oblivion.




Tum aisi kyun ho maa

Tum aisi kyun ho?

Apni jaan ko jokhim main daal ke

Humko duniya main laati ho.

Raat bhar bina soye

Humko mithi lori gaake sulati ho.

Bhookh lagne se pehle hi

Khana khila deti hai maa,

Rone se pehle hi

Samjha deti hai maa.

Pyaar se sir pe haath pher de to

Dard mit jate hain,

Sine se gale lagati hai toh

Jannatein mil jaati hain.

Yeh jo do akshar aaj sikh payi hu

Yeh maa ne hi sikhaya hai,

Padh likh kar aaj jo kuch bhi ban payi hu

Sab maa ka hi ashirvad hai.

Aaj badi ho gayi hu

Apne pairon par khadi hu

Laga jaise saara aasmaan cheen liya hai maine

To bhool gayi main maa ko.

Par ek din aisa aaya

Jab pankh kate mere

Zameen pe aake dham se giri main

Tab maa ne hi aake sambhala

Na jaane kya jaadu hain uske haathon main

Uska hai yeh andaaz nirala!

Zuban se kuch keh sakti, uske pehle hi

Aankhon ki nami ko padh gayi woh

Aansu tapakne se pehle hi

Gale laga li woh!

Kya bolu maa, aaj phir se

Ek nanhi si jaan ban jaane ka man karta hai

Tumhari aanchal main muh chupane ko jee chahta hai……

Duniya se bahut ladh lia hai maa,

Ab mujhe wapas ghar bula lo

Bachpan ki tarah lori gaake

Phir se mujhe sula do.


This article got published in my school magazine, Abhaas, the annual school magazine of D.A.V. Public School, KalingaNagar, Bhubaneswar.


To every parent who was a child once upon a time and to every child who is still a dreamer.

Every morning, while I cross the pavement to go to the bus stop, I see students waiting for their vehicles; the little ones, being accompanied by their parents.

A small trickle comes down my cheeks.

How I wish I could go back to my school again!

Like a clay slowly getting moulded, I have seen myself growing over the years through the very corridors of this institution. I have been shaped and reshaped by my teachers, the torch bearers of my alma matter. My ears are still sensitive to the sweetness of the period bells; while my nasal passage has the potential to jump with excitement to the aroma wafting out of the school canteen! My childhood was awesome.


But there is just one thing that I’d like to complain about; which most of the adults would shoo away, thinking that this is just a way to shy away from homework and responsibilities:

A career choice apart from Engineering and Medicine!

What a blasphemous suggestion! they might say.

It makes me sad to disclose that we Indians treat Arts students with more contempt than we treat any wrongdoer.

When we are tiny tots, we are given crayons and paper, and are free to draw anything we like. But as we slowly grow up, our color pencils are replaced with lead pencils, that only help us with arithmetic and spellings. Worse still, our pencils are taken away so that our bonded hands can grow accustomed to pens, that never allow us to edit a written word. Slowly, we are taught to make less mistakes and become more responsible. But I remember a quote from ‘The Spiderman’:

“With great power, comes great responsibility.”

How can we be expected to become more responsible if we are never allowed to explore the paths we like? How can we be expected to excel in swimming when our hearts are flying in the skies? Is it always possible to learn from others’ mistakes while we are never allowed to do anything of our own?  Aren’t successful experiments supposed to be revamps of mistakes as well? How many times have we read in our Science textbooks that Penicillin had been discovered accidentally? Didn’t it take a thousand attempts for Edison to make the perfect light bulb?

I feel sad to see students burdened, not with the competition that the Indian population gladly provides, but with the pressure of parents, peers and of course, the society. *Since everyone after 10th takes up Science, let me take it up as well. Since Engineering is the ”in thing” to be done, my son should prepare for IIT-JEE. *(Spoiler alert: if you don’t get through JEE, your whole life is ruined. Doubt me? Go watch ”3 Idiots”!)

After graduation and a placement with an IT company, I thought that my troubles were over. My parents and teachers were proud of me. I was young and financially independent, I thought so, till one day I came across the Facebook profiles of some of the alumnus of our school. They had decided to take on the paths that seemed atrocious to the common man.

Screenshot (253)

One of my batch mates decided to go with Journalism, and today he is a writer for the Orissa Post.

Another classmate of mine dropped a year for pursuing medicine but sadly could not get through the entrance examination. Not being disheartened, he chose to graduate in Biotechnology and now is a prestigious research scholar of the Khorana Program with the California University.

A friend, who was particularly weak in Science and Math, decided to study Law. Today she is pursuing her post graduation from the National Law University, Odisha.

A junior, who excelled in singing, has now even started his own YouTube channel for his fans. He manages his studies but his love for singing has never taken a backseat.

The most illustrious example would that of be a schoolmate 2 years junior to me. She loved anchoring since childhood, and had featured in many TV shows. Determined, she realised that the world of glamour was her calling, and today she is one of the most sought after models and anchors of our state.

I was dumbstruck and taken aback. I felt sorry for myself, I felt pity. My so called perfect world came down crashing in front of me in seconds, and I have not been able to recover from the trauma ever since. I felt like my whole life has been a lie, and I seem to live on the leftovers that the dramatic two faced civilisation has got used to throw at me now. I felt like burning my mark sheets that seemed to have chained my limbs to a scale that measured success with respect to the financial growth of an individual.


I thought about the last time I took out some hours from my rote schedule to pen down a few words. To my dismay, I realised that more than a year had passed and I hadn’t touched my papers and ink. I used to be a part of the school choir group, but I had never taken formal classes. Now I sound like a Mynah with a sore throat. I loved reading, but I had finished my last novel way back in 2016 and teaching was something I couldn’t think of now. I still remember how I had got a call from a private medical college, and since it is the general notion that government colleges are the best, I decided to cross out that option and move on with a B.Tech. I chose Engineering, and I compromised with my life. I spend many nights thinking how my life would have been if I would haven’t paid any heed to what people had said on those days and just gone forward with my dream. Sorry Robert Frost, sorry CBSE, despite of your poem in our English curriculum, The Road not Taken, my fears took over my head and made me succumb to the insecurities of some random people whose opinions were actually baseless and don’t even matter anymore.


I wish I could go back now and revive my spirituality, my dreams, my aspirations. It was solely my mistake to be blinded with the star gaze that a so called successful career provides. But mind you, my dear friends, that money can buy everything except happiness, and true happiness comes only from the people who love you back and the passions that ignite your heart. I hope that starting from today, each and every one of us shall make an effort to set aside at least a couple of hours for a  favourite constructive hobby like swimming, gardening or dancing and try to make an effort towards that sector so that we won’t repent later.

Education is not about scoring a perfect ninety five, it is about being aware of the choices one can make to ensure a fulfilling life, to help us identify our strengths and weaknesses,  to hold on to the dreams that are ours and only ours, and to explore our hidden potential that can reward us with satisfaction and peace. Learn to protect your dreams, for they hold a shine so bright, even brighter than pearls and diamonds, that people tend to steal them.


I hope my simple yet sincere voice would reach out to the depths of your young minds and fragile hearts. Let’s make our school famous not only for academics but also for our artistic creations!

Let’s celebrate life, we have only one of it.

All the best for all your upcoming exams. Never neglect your studies!

Thanks and Regards



“The events, characters and firms depicted in this story are fictitious. They do not bear any sort or resemblance to actual persons or professions, living or dead.”


It’s a foggy morning. It’s September but the sun’s still not visible. Slowly the light rays make their way into the cramped room through the spaces between the iron rods, as rustic as the hues of the golden sun that splashes all its colors at once; dramatic, enchanting yet temporary, lasting till the night sets in and paves way for the uninterrupted darkness.

Razia stared at the ceiling, then her gaze fell at the man sleeping next to her. He was handsome, his fair skin contrasting with her dusky one. Soon, the heat inside gets unbearable, and the man gets up. He puts on his shirt, makes his hair, gets his cellphone and calls up his wife.

“Sorry sweetheart I was stuck up with some urgent work. You know how these IT industries operate. We have foreign clients. Sometimes we need to work overtime and stay back for night shifts. Yeah I’ll be back in an hour.”

“I know what you must have been thinking about me, Razia. A man must be dedicated to his wife. But you know what? I’m in love with you! You surely have something in your eyes that makes me come to you again and again! The comfort you provide is unmatchable! I mean, my wife can never live up to my expectations. You’ve set a benchmark. Will meet you soon!” He left with a wink and a smile.

Razia smiled back. She didn’t respond. How could she know about the relationship between a husband and a wife? Unperturbed, she got up and cleaned her face, smeared with kohl and lipstick, and put on her clothes. It had been a steamy night, like all other nights.

The phrase “I love you” was no more a melody to her ears. Everyday someone or the other used it on her, to soothe her burns, only to cut them up again, just for a few hundreds of rupees per hour. But she has learnt not to complain.

“Listen to what your customers say and don’t be a hassle. This is our business, and we must do it the right way. Sometimes settle down for a bargain. Business is slow- so do as the men say. Don’t let your ego get into your head. It can ruin your career. Utilize your youth before it is lost behind your age. And yes, sell your body, but not your heart. This isn’t a place for weak hearted individuals. Once you’re in, you’re out of the game. Understood?”



Mornings are filled with hustle and bustle in this part of the city. Sometimes Razia goes around the electronics shops, looking at newly ordered gadgets. Goods starting from televisions, microphones and cameras-all glitter through the glasses. She had managed to get enough money saved to buy a smartphone for herself. How she wished she could call her mother and talk to her, at least for once! She might be still alive and languishing somewhere, begging for a livelihood, or she might have died of a disease…who knows?

Budhwar Peth- a name synonymous with Lord Ganapati, houses three temples out of the five major Ganapati temples located across Pune. Every morning after she took her bath, Razia would go and stand outside one of the temple premises. She never dared to go inside, for the world had labelled her as impure; a creature who has no past and no future, a creature not even worthy of a penny, nothing. Just a creature whose existence was carved up long time ago inside the four walls, who was silenced forever. And God wouldn’t like to see His ill-fated lesser mortals. It would be a disgrace.

The ABC Chowk was the favorite destination of students. Every day she could see scores of children, teens and adults thronging the marketplace as if it were a sweetmeat shop. She could see so many girls carrying schoolbags with them, chatting loudly as they stop to eat Dabeli and Pani Puri. Small girls, with oiled hair neatly tied up into two long ponytails in their red and white Salwar Kameez, looked adorable.

She had the freedom to go into any bookstore she wanted. She could glance over the stories from the Panchatantra and the Aesop Fables. Diagrams from twelfth standard chemistry textbooks. Images of the Universe. She used to get astonished by the photographs of celebrities in glossy magazines. Some were identifiable, from the item songs that they perform; some were not. They looked so gorgeous!

She looked gorgeous too; her kohl rimmed eyes spoke of a feminine aggression; her ruby red lips gave her face a new dimension, already overloaded with powder. Jasmine flowers adorned her long hair and she wore strikingly bright colored saris. Her wrists grooved to the tune of her bangles.


“Why am I not rich and famous like them? Even I put make up and wear dazzling clothes”, she had asked her Madam one day.

“They work for the entertainment industry; you work to entertain men. They encash their beauty, you encash your build.”

She was infamous; for her identity belonged to the city’s biggest brothel. Never did a single day pass on the roads where she could walk with peace; the men catcalling and making jeers, the women throwing disdainful glances. Mothers could often be overheard warning their kids, “Never go near her, she’s a prostitute!”

Running away was not an option. This was her home, her only identity. She had tried running away a long time back. She doesn’t even remember the dates anymore. The stigma associated with the monotonous humdrum of her polluted life followed her like her shadow.


It had been a summer night. Razia was a teenager back then, barely 15 years old. She was sleeping beside her parents. Suddenly, she was woken up by a commotion outside. There was this loud sound of firing and gunshots, and before they could understand what was going on, she saw her father being shot in front of her own eyes. They dragged away her petite mother, who didn’t even get a moment to cry over her husband’s corpse.

Razia was confused. Her father’s lifeless body was before her; his calm eyes wide open. It seemed as if he wanted to say her something. The ethnic cleansing of their community was getting violent and deadlier with each passing day, but Razia had never ever thought in the wildest of her dreams that she’d have to lose her parents in such a horrific manner. She ran away to the village mosque nearby, and sat inside, clutching the Quran tightly in her fists. The mosque was a dilapidated structure now, which bore the signs of religious discrimination and hatred.

The next day, she could hear the screams of women and children who had lost their husbands and fathers last night. She was still scared to go out of the mosque, she felt secured inside. “Allah would stop all wrongdoings and punish the goons”. She had full faith on her God.

In the blink of an eye, she saw her Ammi Jaan.

Ammi Jaan looked no longer petite, it seemed as if she was in the possession of some djinn. She had disheveled hair and her clothing torn to pieces. Her face was swollen and her eyes were red. Her body was full of scratch marks and wounds.

“They’ve burnt our house. We have nothing left in this country. Let’s go.”

“Go where, Ammi Jaan?”


Soon they were busy walking amongst a sea of people who seemed to be knowing where they were going. It was bad, crossing jungles in those same set of clothes and barefoot. The thought of death scared them no more, they had already lost everything back home. The hopes of a new, dignified life at a distant motherland—-

“So is this your story, miss?”, the reporter sipped tea as she made notes.


“And what is your name again, pardon?”

“Razia. Razia Sultan.”

“Razia Sultan was the—’’

“Was the only female ruler to rule the Delhi Sultanate in your country”, came back the curt reply. “I don’t know why my parents christened me with this name, but I had read about her in school. She had been a brave lady, and had always tried to connect with her subjects. She had protected all kinds of ethnic minorities in her state. Unfortunately, she couldn’t reign for long and was killed. Three burial sites in India claim to hold her dead body remains.”

“You’re literate?”

“Yes. I had to leave my country the year I was in 10th standard.”

“Please continue with your story.”

“Where was I? Ah, yes. My mother was acting strange. She had this grave look on her face and wasn’t crying or talking. She just held my hand firmly and led me through the forest. After walking some miles, I realized that we were fleeing our country. Imagine, leaving your country in this condition—’’

It was a hot sultry afternoon, and the reporter was getting impatient.

“I meant your story. About how you landed up with this Madam here.”

Razia smiled. Her shadow followed her everywhere. Such a wretched luck that she had, the misgivings of her fortune had even robbed her of the status given to a refugee.

“Okay let’s stop it here. How many times do you reporters need to learn about the stories of these women? Do you think the police has the entire day to spend over both of you? Off you go now! I have to go through these official proceedings,” the Police Officer came in and took the chair next to her.

“How long you’ve been in this service?”

“Three years. Maybe four. I don’t remember exactly, Daroga Sahib. During the initial days, they used to hit me because I was always trying to escape from their clutches. I never cooperated with the clients. I used to cry and scream and kick my hands and legs in anger and disappointment. So, Madam and Ashfaq used to beat me hard. Very hard.”


“The guy who sold me to Madam.”

“We’ve issued a notice to look out for him. He is responsible for a lot of cases like yours. By the way, do you have any medical issues?”

“I don’t know, but I have had abortions quite for a few number of times. I wasn’t taken to any nursing home-Madam used to hit my stomach hard with the heavy sticks like you use.”

“Your medical reports suggest that you’re HIV positive.”

Raziya’s face went expressionless.

“Technically you’re not an Indian citizen, but you have a voter ID card. You are an orphan and you don’t have a family to go back to. Also, you’re infected. We don’t know what to do with you. You’ve to stay under detention for a few days till we find a reprimand home for you. As I said, there are lots of women and children being rescued every month, some have families while some don’t have, and mostly the families don’t want their daughters back. We don’t know where and how to accommodate you all. The NGOs are in constant collaboration with us. Let me see if I can register you with any.”

“Thank you very much, Sahib.”

“And while you’re here, you can keep on entertaining us.”

It’s late evening, and the sun has started to descend, throwing its golden hues for the one last time tonight, before paving way again for the victorious, uninterrupted darkness.


The red light area at Budhwar Peth in Pune is said to be very huge with 4000-plus commercial sex workers. Where is our world heading to?


At 2.30 a.m. in the morning, Mommy got a call. She switched on the lights, and sat with her head downcast for a few minutes. Tears were streaming down from her eyes. Then she frantically started moving around the room, arranging stuff, making more calls to daddy.

I woke up in this commotion to realise that Grandpa is no more.


My Grandpa was 90+. He was the tallest in the family: 6 feet, and not a single child from his seven children could grow up to that stature. He was twice the height of Grandma, the domination visible even before we could take a sneak peek into their lives.

Grandpa had been sick since a few months but recently he was making rounds in various hospitals. My parents and his other children were taking turns regularly to be with him. Towards the end, he was at the ICU and the day before he left us, he was already on the ventilator.

The last time I had met Grandpa was a couple of days ago. I remember going to him with Daddy and Nishi. It was pitch dark outside when we reached our uncle’s home. Grandma hugged us tightly.

“Both of you’ve grown up! Nickie, you’re getting darker and thinner. You don’t take care of yourself. Look what have you done to your skin. Nishi seems all right, all sweet and cute like she was since she was a child.”

The three of us held each other and cried. Grandpa was there on the bed, barely able to move; his tummy was swollen and he had a catheter attached. He wasn’t eating anything, and had a bad pain in his lower back.

“See your grand daughters have come. Have a look! Nickie and Nishi have come to meet you!” Grandma said, all excited.

My grandpa was moaning. He took my hands and  made me touch his forehead. Grandma said that he was giving his blessings. He then signalled me to press his back, the pain was getting unbearable.

He asked where my mother was, and why hadn’t she come that day. He ordered daddy to bring her the next time we come to meet him. He was missing everyone and wanted to see his children. I was shocked to see a man like him, lying like that on the bed, desperate and helpless.

Auntie was trying her best to make him eat something, but he won’t budge.

You’d have been shocked as well if you’d have seen him in that condition: Grandpa was thin, yet strong. He could still walk for long distances and could stitch clothes with ease. He was a very active person, always doing something or the other. He had a sharp brain, and remembered everything. In short, he was a self made man who made his own decisions and listened to no one.

Grandpa used to come home when I was a kid, and he used to tell me lots of stories from The Mahabharata, The Ramayana and The Bhagavad Gita. He always told me to pray and believe in God. I could listen to him for hours, the daydreamer I am, and when he used to ask me for a pen I’d hand him over an entire packet.

Grandma used to say me that she had once married man when she was 20 years old, not rich like her family but well to do. Some days later, there was a robbery in her household and that left them with just fields enough to survive, not live and they became poor. Grandpa was living with his parents and siblings and their spouses and children, plus his wife and children, plus the livestock, the pond and the agricultural fields.

It was not enough to sustain such a huge family.

So grandpa worked in the fields and ran small shops to finance his children’s education. He always saw to it. Whenever he used to go out or come back into his mud house, he would spank his children. “Are you studying or sleeping?”

So it had to be like that. I am keeping daddy’s deeds for another day, today’s it about our old folks. There was always a financial crunch back at home and daddy was preparing to become a Chartered Accountant in Howrah, but he always sent him money, however little in amount. He wanted Daddy to become rich and successful, even though it meant sacrificing his own comforts for it.


How do we all remember our grandmothers? Loose skinned, white haired, old ladies who don’t understand a thing that we say, don’t know that you don’t need to put turmeric while preparing Maggi. Pray to God the whole day for our happiness, prosperity and longevity. Don’t know a thing about phones. If they’d know, won’t they learn to make calls themselves? Don’t understand English and yet are proud that we can speak in a tongue not so native, not so close to their hearts and that its taking us apart.

We think that we’re too smart, don’t we?

My grandma must have been beautiful during her youth. She’s got probably more hair on her scalp now then I’d be having in my entire life.

Grandma claims to have seen the Britishers before India’s independence in 1947. I really don’t support the story, but it is funny and interesting to listen to her: her stories of ghosts, ghouls, souls, spirits, werewolves, Gods and Goddesses and what not. She can keep any child captivated with her enthralling style of storytelling. She even says about the big orchards bursting with fruits they had, the large ponds filled with fishes to the brim, their rice fields covering hectares of land and the large vegetable gardens. No matter how hard I try, I can never be as good as her.

I remember Daddy telling us so many times about Grandma going to the bed with an empty stomach, lying to him just because there was no food for her child.

“Today’s my fast, I won’t be eating tonight.”

“But Ma, today’s not a Thursday.”

“You don’t know anything. Now finish off this rice gruel even before it gets more thinner.”

Grandma was working hard, supporting her husband, helping with the housework. She bore her last child while she was working in the rice granary, trying to separate rice grains from the chaff. Just in case, if you think that these old ladies are weak.

Grandpa was ten years older to Grandma; she dutifully abided to her husband till his death. She supported all his decisions, whether right or wrong, knowing that sometimes she’d be judged as a mother, an in law, a sister. But she never paid heed to her reputation, because she was a trustworthy housewife, taking blame for her husband’s faults, listening to the tantrums of her children and filtering them before presenting them in front of Grandpa, and loving her grandchildren unconditionally.

Grandma was with me for a few months when I was born. But when my parents had brought Nishi home, perhaps Grandma was the happiest amongst all of us, because she was entrusted with the responsibility of taking care of me and my sister while my parents were away on work for long hours. Those were the days my mother had just started her own venture, back in the 2000s, it wasn’t easy for a female entrepreneur, a mother, a daughter, a daughter in law. But Grandma is perhaps the sweetest mother in law I’ve ever seen in my life. She loves my mother unconditionally. She took care of the entire household, the cooking. Sometimes she would make my mother’s hair or would put her headache to rest. Or maybe made a cup of tea for her. All of this, while managing little Nishu. Nishi literally lived on her, breathed her, exhaled her, ate on her, spit on her. Grandma bore it all. If she loves my sister so much, I can’t imagine how much she’d have loved her own children throughout her life?

I remember while Daddy was leaving for Sikkim, my Grandma cried. She was very disturbed by the fact that her son was going to a state she had no idea about. She cried when he left for Libya, too. She was so confused about what was going on, why her son had got this need to go to a foreign country when he could work here. Poor grandma, how could she ever understand brain drain?


By the time I’m writing this, it has been already 21 hours since grandpa left for God’s home. Grandma’s life whisked away within a second, just like that. Sixty years of togetherness gone within a whiff, just like that. “Till death do us apart”, they say. See, death is here, and has taken away the man of the house. No matter how strong the lady might be or how populous her family might be, no one can replace her husband, her companion for life.

Sometimes I think of death. I feel afraid. I know cowards die thousands of times before their time comes, I might be a coward; I might be imagining myself in a heroic scene being killed for the nation but the next moment I get up and think about what happens after death.

One day, we are all going to close our eyes and are never going to open them. I fear death. Death is like a shadow; it follows us throughout our life till it gets a chance to get inside us and take our souls away and leave behind a lifeless body, a body without its achievements, its history, its future. Just a concoction of  bones and muscles.

Death can be painful. It is painful for the ones who are spared by it. The person dying might undergo a lot of trauma, but the people surrounding him to get a hole in their hearts, that gets filled with time but there’s that mark that says that it has been operated upon. We don’t forget the past, the dead, we just become accustomed to the silence and loneliness associated with it. Because that’s what life teaches us: to accept and move on.

Red bangles and vermillion, her saris all snatched away from her, because it is the norm. What kind of norm is this? To let a widow die under her grief? To make her collapse under depression? To make her realise every minute, every second of her life that her life is over despite of the fact that her heart is still beating, she can count her heartbeat, she can feel her heart that bore seven children and many grandchildren, that heart that she gave to no one save her husband, that heart which was there with her, pumping blood and mixing adrenaline, estrogen and oxytocin in her veins.

Well, who am I to question the authenticity of these customs and rituals? They’re being done since generations, so they must be right, they say. These customs that literally suck the life out of a living human being, why to talk of a dead one?

How ironical is this. White is not the same for Christians and Hindus. One girl starts her life wearing white, while another keeps fasts to stay away from it, because she knows that the color looks good only on a bride’s face. One world and infinite differences.

I must stop here, I can’t go on anymore. I can’t imagine light colors on grandma. She must be looking beautiful in tragedy. She is beautiful.

This society can never be mine.





Pages from her diary:

“My soul houses that unfortunate heart that greets rain bearing clouds every season but still receives no water and remains dry and parched, and hence I stopped planting seeds of hope inside, because they’re never gonna bloom.”

”Every now and then, as my world gears up for an evolution, tectonic plates clash and collide, new continents are formed and old ones are dropped, the whole life thriving inside me is massacred in a mass extinction process. But there’s no progression. The lands are still cracked, lifeless and barren. There’s birth of erupting volcanoes, but no signs of flora that reside below the ice capped mountains. My beautiful world is ruined everyday and nothing fruitful comes out of it. This is my earth, my failed planet.”



Do you know how it feels to be depressed?

Imagine you’ve been imprisoned inside an underground cell. There’s a bustling world above you, alive with its crowd. The people above know the presence of the jail. Sometimes, they might tap the ground to check if there’s still life inside.

There are other cells surrounding you. You can hear the inmates, sometimes happy, sometimes hysterical. You realise that everyone inside might not be sharing your story but the lessons learnt are eerily similar and painful. There is some form of interaction amongst you people through the thick walls of that dungeon.

There is a man sitting outside your cell, the prison guard. He knows that you’re not guilty and you’re just a girl arisen from circumstances. He knows everything. He has the key to your freedom, your happiness and liberation from this suffering.

Some days you explain yourself that he too must be a man of circumstances, must have gone through a lot, maybe more than you’ve gone through. You should forgive him, he’s nice and he’s just doing his duty. It is his greatness that he has bestowed some kindness upon a girl like you, who has been imprisoned for no reason, but still a prisoner is a prisoner, no matter what. The next day you’re angry at him. ”He knows I’m innocent. He can go out of the way and release me! What is my fault? Is it wrong to be different? Is it wrong to take a road not taken? Is it wrong to expect? ”


On the days when the pain is unbearable, you shout. You cry. You keep begging him to set you free. You keep up the hope. He knows. He knows you more than you can ever know yourself.  He knows that only he can bring you out alive from that cold and dark cell.  He knows your pain, he has been through the same; yet he forbids to open the door. When all the howling gets cynical and crosses his threshold of patience, he starts to walk away.

“Please, I beg you, please let me go. Please let me come to you; I want to see this happy world. I want to build a life of my own. I imagine the wind touching me and the sun kissing me. I want to stay alive in reality. I can’t stay here anymore!”

After sometime you realise that he’s disappeared and you were just shouting into the void. Now it may take days, maybe even years for someone to cross that path again. Till then, you keep up the hope. There’s a grim solace in that silence.

But he might change his mind one day, who knows? Be positive!

He’s never gonna come back.

Leaving girl boy rethink this


She sees him in her daydreams and in the paradise at night.

He and she, both holding hands and walking in the glow of the beautiful sunset, red and orange hues around. She, taking pride in her sindoor and my red inexpensive yet priceless bangles, holding his hands tightly as if it was her birthright to do so; and his herculean arms swinging over her in their ever protectiveness nature. There is no need of an abroad trip, just the walk to the local market is enough for her; I, being fiercely proud of her husband, her honour. She wants to show him off to everyone. Look people, here we are, from different castes and occupations, with different ideals and ideologies, yet we stay together. Who said that true love couldn’t be perfect?

It is past 9 pm. It’s getting late and she’s running home. He opens the door and she literally jumps on him. He gives the most reassuring hugs in the whole world after her parents, and she’s so grateful to God that she found him! They talk about our day. She’s chirping like a morning bird, constant, too excited to stop. He reaches for her hand. They are so comforting. She puts her head on her shoulders and doze off.

It’s been a bad day at office and she has got this splitting headache. She’s home and she’s getting mad over little things, being stupid and irrational. It’s been a tiring day for him as well. Going through wards filled with ill patients and checking on them for sixteen hours is not a joke. Yet he says nothing, just goes to her and listens to her ramblings, caresses her hair and says, “It’s okay.” Then there’s again that silence, so soothing, so known and so warm. She hugs him tight and his shirt is wet with angry tears.


He’s a shy person, always buried in his own work, yet makes time for his loved ones. He never reverts back, he’s such a patient listener. He’s got such innocent eyes that you can almost see through them what lies inside: honesty and a never give up attitude. He’s a self built man, rather adamant, but that’s the best part about him: once he takes a decision, it is final as if it were a bill passed by the Parliament of India. He laughs when you laugh, cries when you cry. He takes time to explain you stuff that always escapes your little brain. It is always so cute when he asks you questions; you feel like a celebrity and transform into the Professor mode instantly. He accepts his flaws gracefully and tries to learn. He checks your pulse and counts the bones of your fingers.

Oh, the perks of marrying a doctor!


He never fails to remind her that no matter what, she needs to work hard and prove myself, because education comes first. And makes me realise that there’d be moments when you’d feel like running away but you’ve to come back because the world sees your performance, not your perseverance. He’s the pole to her climber.

He is romantic, but he doesn’t like to show it off. He doesn’t post pictures of *we are such a happy couple* on Instagram, or doesn’t go live on Facebook. Like all men, he doesn’t understand what is going on in your mind and sometimes his ego takes over his soul but nevertheless he is still cute, he accepts his mistakes even though they are yours and he makes peace with you and sleeps on your lap like a newborn.

Sometimes he lies to her just to make her angry or jealous. A handsome man that he is, she is constantly under this threat that someone who’s better than her might come and steal him away. Because loneliness is a human’s biggest fear. She can stay without food, but not without him.

She doesn’t  know what love is, maybe it is this: a hectic life with him by her side, to pick her up when she falls down, to listen to her blabbering which isn’t equivalent to the worth of 2 cents as if they’re holy sermons from the Bible, to guide her when she’s lost, to be her light when it’s dark.

She doesn’t know what love is. She doesn’t  know what commitment is. She wishes she knew.


No sooner than she wakes up and tries to distinguish between the fragments of her unconscious memories and the original ones, reality sets in. She realises that there’s no happy go lucky life, it is an everyday fight. To pursue him, to persuade him for giving her the seven vows. It is not an obligation, it is a necessity. But for him, it seems as if she’s playing around with his family honour. He feels sorry for her and she feels sorry for him. His hands are tied up. Hers are in no better condition, but at least she’s trying to open the chains, the chains this society has brandished them with. The chains that were supposed to bring communal harmony have now become the noose of their necks. He’s afraid of the scars the jute ropes would leave on his wrists, however he fails to look deep into the scars he’s busy carving on her  mind and heart, unknowingly and unintentionally.

There’s a war raging inside her, for her, against her. One part of her soul screaming to get away from this isolation and live the final moments as if they’re gonna stay with them forever, the other part calming her down and settle down for self respect that she has been avoiding since long, to forgive and forget, to restart her life. One part of her brain telling her to stay updated on all the recent advancements of his life and that of the Constitution, to gather enough facts and prove him what you’re asking for is not wrong, what you’re asking for is your right and there’s no dishonour in it, no shame. The other part of her brain telling her to focus her energies on better things, because he won’t understand, you’ve been doing this since last year I guess.

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She doesn’t remember their first meet. He had seen her in the bus, while she was trying to focus on her biology notes. Those were the days she was planning to run away from Engineering to Medical Sciences. He told her later: “Everyone made fun of you and laughed behind your back for doing so.” She had first approached him, because she used to be an expert in starting conversations. And very soon they became close friends. She had thought that it was the end after he had left for his new medical college but as fate would have it, he returned back to her university after a year.

She still walks through his corridors, trying to feel his presence in his absence, leaving her space, trying to understand his world and hers, trying to entangle them, to mix their planets. The hospital feels like her temple, she being the only devotee, and he residing in the sanctum sanctorum of her heart. She walks aimlessly through his campus, sometimes bumping into security guards who sternly warn her not to go inside because it is not allowed for civilians. If only they knew that she was a patient. It then dawns upon her that there are more lines that separate them, more parallel than intersecting. The more she tries to make their bloods an emulsion, the more strongly they turn out to be immiscible. The word caste churns her stomach and makes her blood boil.

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There is affection, but there are no promises. There is fun, but there’s no happily ever after. Everything is so hush hush, as if they’ve committed a crime and they need to wash their hands off in silence. He gets suspicious when she’s with other guys. She starts getting trust issues when there’s no text from him. She’s always in this fear that he’s getting ready to take off, irrespective of her efforts to keep him close to the ground.

He says, she’s more than his best friend and less than his girlfriend. She has importance, but no identity in his life. He loves her deeply, but then she’s just another woman. She’s talkative, loud and funny. She gives weird advices and laughs for no reason, behaves like a madman. She walks around acting like a man, it’s her swag. So people feel that this girl is everyone’s pockets, and that she can be used, she won’t mind because, you know. But they forget that even she has got feelings. She dreams of everything a girl sets her eyes upon, innocent and small wishes in life. She doesn’t dream of burdening others, she dreams of setting up things on my forte and giving him surprises. And all these dreams just stay back in her heart as dreams.

The final verdict from his court of justice has been delivered yet again.

“Your Honour, you’ve again rejected my plea. You’ve yet again proved that the background of a person is more important than her character. I object Your Honour, I object. All my hard work in finding and submitting evidences and examples to you have failed. Your Honour, if you must punish me, then give me the death sentence. Don’t imprison my life inside the walls of the splendour of your goodness and affection for me.”


The court has been adjourned till the next session.

“Maybe, just maybe, next time, I’ll get justice.”


It is one hot sultry afternoon. She’s come back quite early from her workplace, tired, hungry and sweaty. She felt like collapsing on the floor but then remembers that there’s no one there at home to even serve her food. Her husband’s away on a business trip, her daughter is in her college. She freshens up and goes to the kitchen. The rice is cold and the curry is bland. Seems as if I have forgotten the spices today as well, she says, dipping her long finger into the bottle of homemade pickle, made with the age old recipe that her grandma used to follow. She finishes her lunch and decides to take a nap. She chooses her favourite spot-the sofa in the living room. She sits down, the cushion sagging behind her. Motherhood had burdened her with excessive weight.

There’s an unexpected guest: a shower in the middle of the summer. She rushes to get the clothes from the terrace. The staircases are steep and her energies low. All my hard work wasted, she mumbles. Finally, after all this running, she once again settles down in her cozy seat and closes her eyes.

A small girl is dashing across the courtyard, eyes shimmering with innocence and excitement. Suddenly she stumbles upon an object and falls down. She starts crying, seeing the blood on her bruised knee. Her mother comes outside and takes her in her lap, trying to soothe her. She wipes her tears, adding ” If you keep getting scars like these, then no one’ll marry you. You’re as such a dark girl.”The girl looks back at her mother, confused.


“Is it wrong to be dark?”

The mother looks at her with hollow eyes.

And thus she starts her journey on a rocky path without a map, just following her conscience and goodwill. Her sober nature wins everyone’s hearts at a glance. She grows up fast, her childhood undeniably smaller, saddled with enormous responsibilities. Being the elder daughter, she is entrusted with the duties of scrubbing the floors and washing the clothes. Though never a star student, she takes her education very seriously, burning the midnight oil after putting her younger siblings to sleep. Her presence is limited to the walls of her home, her classrooms and the library. Sometimes she spends her leisure time knitting sweaters and cardigans or making dolls and bags from reeds.

She’s never allowed to forget that she’s dark. As if having a higher concentration of melanin is a sin. She later learnt that skin color is an example of polygenic inheritance, which means that multiple genes collectively influence phenotypic expression of the trait. Apart from that, environmental factors also play a role. “I walk to school and then back home every day. It is natural that I have got some extra protection from the sun. What can be wrong in that?  Lord Krishna and Goddess Kali are dark too. But they are worshipped despite of their color. Why am I not acceptable?” Still, like millions of Indian girls, she succumbs to the societal pressure and definition of beauty and starts using the iconic Fair and Lovely.


Being a girl seems difficult in this country, she thinks while convincing her father to leave her for a study tour. All her friends wave at her and await the surprises they’re gonna enjoy, while all she does is look at the speeding bus with eyes, welled up with tears and biting her lips. She has to fight at her home to allow her to go outside her small township for higher studies. Fighting with your family is never easy, even if you’re doing it for the right reasons. It’s not safe for a girl to stay away from home, they say. It’s not safe for a girl to go out after dark, they say.

As she prepares herself  to leave her tiny nest to fly high, she understands that life comes with its share of troubles. The hardest part has just begun. Staying away from family in an unknown city is never easy. She battles her way through all her courage and determination, and completes her Masters in marketing. There’s always that financial crunch, but she never shows it. She starts her career with a multinational in a cosmopolitan city. Her first salary gets stolen in the local bus. She gets eve teased on the same streets that lead her to the working women’s hostel. All this for a job. For her self respect. For building up her identity.


But there are beautiful moments too, like taking her parents on a tour and buying them stuff with her own money. For someone belonging to a lower income group family, this can seem as an achievement. Seeing the glow on your parents’ face because of your good deeds is indeed an achievement.

She’s called back home after 3 years. “You’re old enough to start a family now. When are you going to get married? You’re dark as such. And you know about the biological age for women………”

“But ma, there’s this guy……”


“There’s this guy, whom I love very much. He also adores me a lot. He is a doctor. Remember I had told you about him while I had been to the hospital regarding those new tablets my company had launched?”

“Ah yes, I remember. So, what is his caste?”

She knew that this question would come up. He had said the same thing. ” I love you, but I won’t be able to marry you. We belong to different groups of societies. My parents will never agree to a match who’s dark, highly educated and of a separate caste.” She was shocked to hear all this from him, a doctor, one of the highly respected professionals in the society.

“I thought that you’re proud of me. And don’t tell me that I’m dark. You’re no whiter.”

“Yes, I am, but I believe you won’t make a good wife.”

“Why so?”

”Because you’re a working woman. Your marketing job will take you to places, while I’d be mostly staying in my state. I need my woman to stay with me, to do the household chores properly, to take care of my children, and to be a good wife. I have my own dreams and aspirations. How’ll they get fulfilled if my wife works? A working woman can never be a good housewife.”

“But we can manage everything. We live in a democratic country that believes in justice, liberty, equality and fraternity. Everything is possible if we take a stand. We can at least try once. You talk at you home and I’ll talk at mine. I am sure that we can get positive results. Because we have got only one life and I have some dreams too………….”

“I am sorry, I don’t know about you, but I can’t go against my parents’ wishes. Nor my dreams.”


Her mother nearly slapped her, tears in her eyes and anger in her throat.

“You wretched girl! You fell in love with a lower caste man and you expect us that we’ll marry you off with him! How dare you? Don’t you know that we are Brahmins? What’ll people say? That’s all we need now, to ruin our reputation! He left you for the sake of his parents….and you? You’re arguing with me? Wretched girl!”

She imagined herself on a boat stranded in the middle of an ocean, felt as if thousands of waves were hitting her, all at once, trying to knock her off and break her down into pieces. She felt as if she was drowning, the waves pushing her and the sharks pulling her underwater. She couldn’t exactly comprehend the aim of her struggle. Why was she fighting for that man who loved her but didn’t respect her emotions and treated women just as objects for work and recreation? Why was she fighting with her mother who had cared for her since childhood and whose hands were tied up with the patriarchal and orthodox ideas since generations? Why was she fighting with herself and ruining her state of mind? Sometimes she couldn’t understand why she behaved this way, let alone others.


News was to relatives and friends that there’s this suitable Brahmin girl who’s 5’6” tall, highly educated, works for an MNC, skilled in household work and has good moral values. The compact ad was published in a local daily.

Prospective grooms visited her one by one, throwing occasional glances on her slender figure.  Prospective mothers in law checked her face complexion and her walking style. The families exchanged pleasantries, had chai samosas and then talked about dowry. Two lakhs, because, you know. She felt the jolts in her body every time someone demanded dowry or rejects her.

Finally, by the grace of God, she gets her husband who is equally qualified and is fair colored. “Girl, you have struck a gem”, her relatives said. “He’ s too good for you. You should be lucky that you got him, just for one lakh!”


She’s quickly wedded off and then finds herself in another dimension of life. She’s now a married woman, and they say that it is the honor of her husband’s family that is now at her stake. So she now must learn to live like they decide. Marriage is all about adjustment, they say. New family, new relatives, new customs, new clothes and jewellery, new bedroom, and that too with a complete stranger………………

One year fast forward. She is returning from the doctor, her eyes shining with excitement and dull with tears at the same time. Her doctor is the same man with whom she had imagined her whole life. He was now married as well. Congratulations, he had said. You’re going to be a mother. She tightly clutched her husband’s hand, wiping her face, smiling. She questioned herself again. “Why haven’t I been able to forget this man who has given me the darkest years of my life? Am I not being a good wife?”

Nine months later, as she held up her daughter in her arms for the first time, she went wild with ecstasy. Her daughter had large black eyes and looked like a doll. She was so proud of herself. After all, her child was a part of her blood and bones. Her life had come to a full circle, she thought. After all, this is what a wife is supposed to do.


Being the most beautiful period of a woman’s life, pregnancy gives her the most precious and powerful gift of mankind, the ability to create a new generation. But it comes with its perils. Her weight soared up like anything and her hair fall aggravated. She no longer looked young like before.

She was soon expecting her second child. Her mother in law prayed to Lord Krishna daily. ” A Bal Gopal, please God bless our home with a Bal Gopal this time.” But destiny had some other plans for her. A minor road accident while driving back home led to her miscarriage. Her doctor replied that she would never be able to become a mother again.

And it was then that her husband started going away on frequent business trips. He avoided her every time he could. His family believed that she had knowingly taken away the chirag of their home. They released their frustration on her every time they could. Her husband, for whom she had settled down with a low paying job so that she could manage his family well, was not in love with her anymore. Was it because of her failed pregnancy? Maybe he was not in love with her at all. Sometimes, people are in love and they can’t marry. Sometimes, people marry but they are not in love with each other.


There had been a few times when she doubted that her husband was cheating on her.

One day, she broke down in front of her mother.

“Ma, I can’t go on like this anymore. I sacrificed my career for this man years older than me, and yet he can’t provide me solace. I have lost my child, yet I get no words to soothe my heartache. You know how it feels? It feels as if I’ve lost a limb and I am still experiencing the phantom pain, oh Ma!”

“That’s the life of a woman, dear. Women must endure all these sufferings. You need to be here and do your duties, whether you’re appreciated or not. This is your home till the end and you are the lady of this house. You should know the tricks to keep all the strings tight. Or else your shack will break down.”

“If I need to prove myself all the time, then why doesn’t he pass through the same litmus test? I have lost a lot in life. Am I here only to kill my hopes and aspirations? Even I am a human being and this is the only life I’ve got, Ma!”

“You ask too many questions!”

She’s suddenly woken up by a thunder loud enough to wake the dead. She realises that she had been dozing off with her head tilted towards the direction of the main entrance of the house. The heavy raindrops were still hitting the porch but she didn’t mind anymore. She opened the gate, took a few drops of the cold water into her cupped hands and splashed onto her face. She further moved towards the garden and got drenched in the newly found sparks of her old wounds.



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To the guy lovingly called SSDPS by his best friends.

He had his birthday a few months ago. Usually guys ask for gifts or treats. Better, they don’t ask for anything from girls (how cute they are :P) But this man had something else in his mind.

One fine day, after a few days of his birthday that he celebrated by taking all his friends to a posh restaurant, he thought that he should give me a treat as well {let me tell you that last year too, he had taken me for a lovely treat :)} So after a delicious lunch, I asked him what gift he needs (because I am a dumb when it comes to gift, especially to guys :P) He posed a very strange request.

“I need a greeting card.”

So I took him to Archies and told him to pick one card. But he was adamant.

“No, I want a handmade greeting card.”

I looked at him. Never ever in my life had I heard of a 20 something guy asking for a card. Men love perfume, shaving kit and stuff like that, as per the websites disseminating knowledge on *top 101 gifts for men* ”

I thought about my last art and craft project at school back in 2006. It had been so terrific that I had been awarded a C grade.

“I need a handmade greeting card”, he continued, ” so that I can keep you alive in my memories forever. This is our last year in college, you know.”

Each and every word of his seemed legitimate to me. The word memory hung in the air.

I came back home and begged my sister to draw something exciting for him.

“I’m busy. And moreover, he’s your friend. You should put a personal touch in his gift.”

And hence started my epic journey towards the center of the DIY gifts on YouTube. Let me tell you that the journey is not easy. Channels of these Indian viners come in between and distract you from your main goal 😛 Anyways, I found an idea that looked easy and I started making it.

It has been more than a month but the craft’s still incomplete.

2013 was a year full of new experiences. It was a big change for me: getting out of DAV- my home for 14 straight years. I had got habituated with the same classrooms, same building, same teachers and friends. Even the barren school field reminded me of the infinite happy moments spent, sprouting from the gardens of friendship and innocence. It seemed as a big family: a home away from home.

My mind races back to my initial days at KIIT. August 2013. I had just got enrolled in the B.Tech course of Mechanical Engineering. New institution. New faces. One classroom. 70 hearts.  I had to quickly replace my Odia with Hindi: KIIT has students coming from all over the country. The campus is always over flooded with people,  bursting with excited talents , ever ready to showcase their best. A person coming from a limited sphere like me felt lost in the ocean. The once outspoken girl in me suddenly changed into a quiet person, quite often forgotten in the crowd. I always tried to mingle but then again stayed aloof from everyone. I was scared of the new surroundings. What if I said or did something wrong? Then people would laugh at me. Nuts. All screwed up.

One day while a professor was taking our introduction, SSDPS got up and said his name. Durgaprasad Sahoo. From West Bengal. DAVian.

Whoa! It struck a chord with me. Finally, an Odia guy! I had noticed him before, but he never spoke in his mother tongue.

I went to him to talk. And he was (and still is) a very shy guy. Would only answer to your questions. Didn’t blabber like me the whole day. Reserved kind of man, but very sweet, cute, knowledgeable and kind. Perfect person to make a friend!

Our interactions are always limited to library, classroom and WhatsApp. Our conversations are always related to assignments and exams. Durga never misses to notice and comment on my changed WhatsApp profile picture. While I keep on changing my status every now and then, his status reads “Patience is the key” since June’16. He truly lives up to his status. He’s a brilliant and a hardworking guy. He can always be seen inside the library, his nose buried in books. Whenever I need any help while solving assignments, he’s always there. Whenever I need to get any information from the notice board, he’s usually the first person to convey that message to me. When I go out of the line and I don’t feel like studying, he’s there to boost my morale and bring me back to the right track.

But sometimes we manage to have fun, like we went to watch Airlift last year with nearly 15 friends and had a lunch program afterwards. (we managed to achieve this after bunking K.C. Singh sir’s class…we should be given a medal for this magnanimous feat :P)

There must be zillions of moments like these, we have created a lot of happy moments that are gonna be cherished for a lifetime. Maybe we didn’t have much fun (I couldn’t join him for trips and photo shoots). But our extraordinary friendship that stemmed up from an ordinary conversation is unique and special, and I have loved and enjoyed every moment of it. I hope that you have enjoyed it as well.

Gifts might get broken, photos might get deleted, contacts might get lost, but the place reserved in your heart for a friend is never sold off to someone else. Sometimes it lies forgotten, but never lost.  I am freezing you in my memory with this blog post. Do remember the link 😛 Even if we stay across the globe, my wishes and prayers will reach out to you, no matter what. May you get the laurels and rewards that you deserve. You have done a lot of penance.  Now it’s time for the golden ripe harvest! I hope that you get success in each and every road you take.

Happy birthday, Durga, not only for this year but for all the good years that God has set for you in future.

Your crazy friend,



I guess you must have heard the song Fifteen by Taylor Swift.
If not, then let me write down the lyrics here for you.
15 is just an ordinary number, without any Vedic significance. If sixteen is sweet, is fifteen sour?
Let’s find out.
You take a deep breath and you walk through the doors
It’s the morning of your very first day
You say hi to your friends you ain’t seen in a while
Try and stay out of everybody’s’ way
It’s your freshman year and you gonna be here
For the next 4 years in this town
Hoping one of those senior boys will wink at you and say,
” You know I haven’t seen you around before.”
This is the first step towards your future. High school! All grown up kids teenagers 🙂
Teenage: the most rebellious phase of our lives. Back when I was 13, I used to throw tantrums like hell. There was no patient talking in the house. Every now and then, one could see me and mummy engaged in a typical family drama scene, fighting over silly stuff, arguing endlessly. We just do the opposite of whatever is expected of us (Like I still do) and often get into troubles. Now when I look back on the memories, I feel so guilty. Intense stupidity, and nothing else.
Moral of the story: Don’t fight with your parents, it is a battle with a predetermined winner.
‘Cause when you’re Fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You’re gonna believe them
And when you’re Fifteen
Feeling like this three’s noting to figure out
Well, count to ten, take it in
This is life before you know who you are gonna be
You are now neither a kid, nor an adult, which makes it more hard to cope up with the parental, peer and societal pressures. You are expected to behave like a responsible grown up, but at the same time required to behave like a child!
*Stop irritating me*Shut up*Give me my phone back*Mum, what’s wrong with you*I am studying with my headphones, it is called multitasking*I need a break I can’t study all the time*Engineering? I wanna do photography*Why can’t I go for that movie? All my friends are going for it*Need some hard cash, lunch time with gang*Where’s my mascara*Retail therapy makes me calm*I am busy, I can’t do it*So what if I talk to that guy late in the night, he’s just a friend, don’t over react*OMG ITS A PIMPLE*It hurts, this damned thing, every month, I’m sick of it*He’s so cute wink*Why do you need to be on guard all the time*Please leave me alone*slangs*slangs*some more slangs*
If you are familiar with these phrases, then trust me, you are a teenager.
You sit in class next to a red head named Abigail
And soon enough you are best friends
Laughing at other girls you think you’re so cool
We’ll be out of here as soon as we can
And then you are on your very first date and he’s got a car
And you feel like flying
And your mamma is waiting up and you’re thinking that he is the one
And you are dancing around the room when the night ends
When the night ends
While you are busy understanding why your body has started showing bizarre changes and you’ve suddenly become hyper emotional and super sensitive (It is not your fault that hormones screwed you up), you realise that your schoolwork has grown up with you, too. Did your life have less troubles that you needed to complete and submit lab records of Physics, Chemistry, Biology and Mathematics every week? God, this is unfair! With your frequent mood swings, incessant tussles with your loved ones and tons of home assignments, competition also had to enter the scene. Now your existence is reduced to that of an amoeba, struggling for a personal air bubble in that dirty pond where no one likes to live but has to because that’s the right thing to do. Period. But you need to win, because survival of the fittest, right?
‘Cause when you are Fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You are gonna believe them
When you re Fifteen
And our first kiss makes your head spin round
But in your life you’ll do things greater than dating the boy on the football team
But I didn’t know it at Fifteen
Moving on towards the latest advancements: You are getting adrenaline pump when you see *him* And its natural. No need to freak out. No need to go crazy about it. Don’t be insane, just be normal. He’s just a normal person like you and you need to focus on your schoolwork and this transitory phase shall pass away. You are not supposed to have a boyfriend just because everyone has one or it is a cool thing to do. Don’t break anyone’s heart or get yours broken. Be a sensible person. I know that you are. You have powers beyond imagination, them for your benefit. I am sure that you’d be amazed.
It is hard to resist, this temptation. It is a painful struggle between your mind and your heart. Long hours of chatting and what not. The pleasure is unmatched with all the riches of the world combined.
You’ll find the perfect person one day, don’t worry, but maybe this is not the right time for it. Distractions abound your mind but you have got so much to do. Many a times, the things that look promising may never work out. So, beware of the sugar coated sweet poisons lurking around. A backstabbing friend is more dangerous than an enemy, my dear.
When all you wanted was to be wanted
Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now
You do what your heart wants. Illogical reasoning becomes your speciality. Long hours of sleep and daydreaming disorient your thinking processes. When you grow up, you realise that you could have done so much to enhance yourself, but you badly fell into the pit your heart had set for you.
Wisdom comes late. You feel like a philosopher when you complete this perilous phase of your life but by the time it’s too late. Shit.
I just wish I could have studied harder, slept less and become more cheerful 😦 So you better take my advice and start preparing for the entrance examinations from now on(Just kidding XD)
Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday
But I realised some bigger dreams of mine
And Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind
And we both cried
Stop dreaming of a future that’ll literally never exist. You believe that you have a worth only if you have a lot of people who give you attention? Only if someone loves you? Wanna hog the limelight by becoming the next happening thing at school? It is an illusion, this glamour and vanity. Never fall prey to it. Happiness might not be everything that you try to pursue or perceive.

How can you expect someone to love you when you can’t love yourself? How can you expect someone to be serious about you when you aren’t serious about yourself, your studies and your career? You are vulnerable and lonely. People take advantage of the situation. They make you feel loved, they might be doing that genuinely as well, but then they lose interest and walk away with unfaithful reasons. So don’t think that love is the biggest thing in life. It is not. By God, you are blessed with such a loving and caring family, mad friends, a sound health and tons of goodness and riches. Utilize it and become a good human being and give back to the society. That’s what life is for. I have wasted my time, energy and peace of mind on wrong people and I hope that you won’t do the same.

Sorry for this long speech, I know you must have got irritated by now, but please just bear a few more moments with me.
‘Cause when you are Fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You are gonna believe them
And when you are Fifteen
Don’t forget to look before you fall
I have found time can heal most anything
And you just might find out who you’re supposed to be
I didn’t know it at Fifteen
If something or someone hurts you, just let them go. Throw them out of your life. Never become a second option for anyone. Always think that you are special. Never compete with others, just compete with yourself. So what if you scored 9.6 and she scored 9.8. So what if she got awarded and you didn’t. You are an individual and you have the potential to achieve everything you deserve and desire. Winning is not overcoming your competitors, it is overcoming your own faults and making great strides! Just go for it!
Your very first day
Take a deep breath, girl
Take a deep breath as you walk through the doors.
All the best, my dear young ladies! A perilous yet promising future awaits you out there! 🙂
Love, The Funky Writer


Happy new year, my dear followers and my fellow bloggers!
We writers are fierce, brave and bold. We believe that the pen is mightier than the sword. Nothing deters us from exercising our freedom of expression. With Bangladeshi bloggers being killed, the Charlie Hebdo incident and Indian writers returning their awards, 2015 has been a tough year for the writer community. Nevertheless, we shall continue doing what we do the best: Writing. Let us promise to inspire people through our painstakingly handwritten texts. Let us bring out the brighter side of humanity. Let us spread happiness and awareness.
I have been reading your blogs religiously and I must say that everyone of you had something good to offer to the big World Wide Web. Well, here’s my share: my second travel journal.

Animals have always been associated with religion. Nature has inspired different faiths. Hence, my parents believed that there couldn’t be a better time than Durga Puja to visit Odisha’s very own biodiversity hotspot: Bhitarkanika. (thanks to my class mass bunk actually :p)
Bhitarkanika is a national park located at Rajnagar in Kendrapada district. What makes it special from other parks are its mangrove forests, spread across the Brahmani-Baitarini estuarial region. It is the second largest mangrove forest of India, just after the Sundarbans. Housing the saltwater crocodile, water monitor lizard, deer, migratory birds, turtles, and dozens of aquatic species, amongst others, Bhitarkanika is a treat for all the wildlife lovers.

We started our journey at about 11.30 a.m. by road and reached at about 5.30 p.m. The long journey had tired us out. Sitting in the car the whole day with my cousin on my lap was fun, but exhausting as well. The countryside scenery was excellent. We crossed small ponds, gardens, paddy fields, rivers and saw the lovely sunset. After entering Rajkanika, we noticed fisheries on either side of the road, along with small huts surrounded by vegetation: the homes and the businesses of the local fishermen. We saw aerators in the pond to supply oxygen to the prawns.

Our resort had a striking resemblance to that of a village: each cottage had been made in such a way so as to blend with the forest. Our rooms had all the basic facilities, though. There was a small pond, paddy cultivation, a small orchard and a flower garden inside our resort. No T.V, no internet. Most of the networks wouldn’t receive any signal except BSNL, so be ready to spend a day without social networking sites.

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The food tasted great, with sea food being obtained fresh. Most of the other food stuff, including packaged drinking water, is procured from outside, from a nearby village which is accessible only through boat. Every day, the staff resort toil hard and take dangers to ensure the perfect vacation for you. You can dine on big fish, crabs and prawns. Other veg and non veg delicacies are also available at special request.
The next day, we were up by 6 a.m. After taking bath and breakfast, we were ready to plunge into the wilderness. Our fellow tourists were mostly Bengalis, a few Odia people and two ladies from the Netherlands!
We hired a motor boat from Khola. The one room office was just next to the entry gate of Bhitarkanika, hence was being guarded. We had to give all our personal details which was necessary for the officials to initiate a search if we don’t come back (well that sounds terrifying :p)

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We saw what we were craving for: the mangrove forests. During the morning time, the water from the Bay of Bengal had pushed itself into the rivers, hence resulting in a high tide. When we returned back, the excess of water had already resided back into the sea.

Our journey to see the crocodiles began. We had been warned not to dip our hands into the waters, as a hungry croc might be waiting inside to gobble you up. If your boat suddenly capsizes (not to worry as this usually never happens until and unless done on purpose), then you can see the heaven within minutes of touching the water surface. We had stretched our necks out in anticipation, to spot the oldest living reptiles on earth. I spotted a plastic water bottle as well. Trust the humans to dump plastic inside a national park!
And then, our motor boat suddenly stopped. As I was looking around in confusion, there it was! A saltwater crocodile (Crocodylus parosus) basking out! There was no turning back after that. We passed through various creeks and saw a lot of crocs: some big, some small. The scenery was pretty new, not of a regular kind. The mangrove forests are stretched across miles, with nothing but mud colored brackish water in between. The eerie silence of the vicinity can give you freaks, with occasional sounds of a bird or a croc diving underwater.

Our excitement reached at a whole new level when we spotted deer! There were lots of deer by the riverside. But they weren’t drinking water. Perhaps they knew about the presence and timing of the crocodiles hence were taking precaution and waiting for the right moment to quench their thirst. We also saw a water monitor lizard and a white crocodile.
The riverside was muddy. So we could see fresh foot and body prints of crocodiles and the monitors, sliding into the water, which indicated their recent presence.
We reached a stop called as the Heronry. Migratory birds from foreign countries come during winter to breed here. We took a short walk in the forest. We reached a high tower and climbed on it so see the unseen: thousands of herons perched atop the tree canopies. The canopies looked white, with the birds building their nests on them.
While getting down from our boat, we noticed some small strange looking fishes on land. They were feeding outside water! Later I came to know that they are called mudskippers a kind of amphibious fish which can live both on land as well as water. Some have been reported to climb onto the mangrove trees as well!

There was a board warning us to walk on the concrete path only, and not on bare land, as crocs might have sneaked into the small clearings present throughout the forest. Our walk was exhilarating, mostly mine as I spotted pneumatophores in large numbers, about which I had studied in Biology. They are also called as breathing roots and go deep into the soil before coming out of them and standing erect. Mangrove forests are present in brackish areas, which always have a lack of oxygen. Hence, to fulfil this need, the plants have devised this method of respiration. We also spotted tiny red crabs and eccentric looking insects on the mud.

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Our next stop was at Dangamal. Here too, we had to take a walk in the forest. We saw large tracts of ponds filled with algal bloom, with cacti along the concrete paths. We spotted two more towers, which were in use by the King of Kanika, during the Zamindari period, for hunting purposes. After independence, the Zamindari system was abolished and the responsibility of the sanctuary fell on the shoulders of the Odisha Govt. The towers have been repaired for the benefit of the tourists. There are two small temples, dating back to the time during the reign of kingdoms, where the deities are still being worshipped by the villagers. Walking on the plain grass spread out on the clearings, just below the blue sky made our trip all more enchanting.


Our last stop was at the museum. Here, we saw fruit orchards and medicinal gardens being maintained by the forest officials. The collection of eggs, skin, embryos and skeletons of crocodiles, wild boar, deer, snake, turtles and other lizard species housed at the museum is fascinating. We saw the skeletons of 18-19 feet long crocodiles! Contrary to what I had seen in the zoo, I had thought that the length of the crocs must be about 10-12 feet at max, but this was shocking! Bhitarakanika has entered the Guinness Book of World Records for the largest crocodile spotted of length 23 feet! That’s scary. It gets more scary: according to the 2015 census, Bhitarkanika has 1665 crocodiles teeming underwater. Hence, it comes as no surprise that during rainy seasons these crocs often wander into paddy fields and drag unsuspecting farmers to death. Some temporarily reside in the village ponds, killing cattle and sometimes humans.

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The singular attraction of this stop was:


Gori tere pyaar main :p

The mangrove forest cover has increased, so has the number of crocodiles due to adequate protection towards the species, thanks to the tireless efforts of the State govt. towards the conservation of wildlife. The population estimation of the crocs takes place every January. The work being done towards the preservation of the biodiversity is remarkable, but the plight of the nearby villagers during rainy season is depressing as well. We educated people always preach to save wildlife but end up in killing the most indirectly. But the villagers are the true heroes who share their lives with these frightening creatures, without complain. They are dependent on fishing, agriculture and tourism to eke out a living. For this reason, the govt. needs to enhance their security so that it is possible to live harmoniously with nature.
Where: Rajnagar, Kendrapada, Odisha
How: By road: Route: Bhubaneswar-Cuttack-Nischintkoili-Kendrapada-Salepur-a lot of the countryside-Kendrapada town area-Rajnagar. Can travel by bus/take help of Odisha Tourism
When: Can go starting from the month of Oct, but preferably during Dec-Feb to see the highest number of crocodiles and birds
What not to pack: Any kind of plastic/polythene which needs to be disposed off. There is no proper waste disposal unit out there, and the rules are even stricter as it is a national park. Therefore the waste is either dumped into the ground/burnt. So try to avoid polythene.
Travelling time: About five and a half hours by road, have lots of petrol saved up
Road condition: Fairly stable, some countryside roads need urgent government attention
Food: Local dhabas spread erratically across the region during travelling and resort buffets during the stay.
P.S. Kendrapada is famous for its sweets and if you are visiting during DP, do make a point to enjoy the Gajalakshmi Puja 🙂
People: Since you are a visitor and you are travelling by car(which is a luxury for most of the Indian people), some villagers might stop your vehicle from time to time, asking money on the occasion of the puja. Otherwise, the forest guards, the guides, the boat drivers and the staff at your resort are great folks, who shall make you feel at home with their warm hospitality.
Accommodation: Panthanivas, owned by the Odisha Govt. or private organizations offering cottages and food at expensive (read reasonable) prices, owing to the location of the park. Booking should be done in advance before 3-6 months, due to high demand of wildlife tourism.
Total cost of the trip (including stay, food, car travel and boat ride for 6 people for 24 hours): Nearly Rs 15000/-
During the trip: Do’s and don’ts
• Keep sufficient amount of drinking water
• The water might call you out to take a little feel of it, but you dare not to
• Stay close to people, specially your boatman and your guide
• Do not litter the forest
• Do not walk on bare mud
• Do not touch the trees as snakes and insects are abundant in that region

So this winter, come home to wilderness. Come home to nature!

P.S. For best results, do watch the Australian movie Black water :p

Debashrita 🙂



This article won me the 1st Runners-Up position in the January 2021 Edition of Prayatna, the Magazine of Social Responsibility Forum, SBM, NMIMS Mumbai. I had originally written it for a national article writing competition for The Hindu in 2015.

Climate change is a transformation in the distribution of weather patterns over long periods of time that range from decades to millions of years. Since the formation of the earth 4.54 billion years ago, the earth has undergone 5 major extinctions, mostly due to these climatic changes i.e. a cyclic pattern between the ice ages and the warmer ones. And we are heading on towards the current Holocene extinction event very fast. Most of us shoo off this topic as merely an exaggeration about global warming, but it is actually happening, and if we visualize the situation in the terms of a country like India, the situation is worsening with each passing day. It is indeed a shame for us that Chennai has overtaken Delhi as the most polluted city of the world.


India puts a great pressure on its existing natural resources, even more profoundly than its counterparts because it is a developing nation. The water table is depleting fast, the summers are getting longer and hotter, and the rain spells are getting erratic. The sea levels are rising due to the polar ice caps and glaciers melting at a pace like never before.


The biggest crisis of India is that its population is dwelling in ignorance. Most of the people have no idea about global warming, and even if they have, they are not bothered about it. And our nation has a plethora of other problems, which need greater attention than the climate. Illiteracy and lack of basic education and health facilities in many parts of rural India top the chart.


Most of the people in our country do not have the purchasing power for food and fuel. Immigration to the cities in the search for a better life adds to the pressure on the existing limited drinking water and electricity. However, the pollution contributed by the richer nations should not be compared with the pollution coming from the poorer ones; the former use it for the increasing lifestyle of luxury and comfort, while the latter utilize it for their survival. Today, necessity has become a luxury, due to the ever increasing greed of humans. And global warming is the perfect example of this phenomenon, disrupting  forests, lives and livelihoods.

Nearly 60% of the population is agrarian in nature, and our country has more than a billion mouths to feed. Agriculture takes up nearly 90% of the fresh water resources of our country, and with depletion of the water table and with the increase in the production of water demanding crops like rice and wheat, the situation is getting grim. We are facing the aftermath of the Green Revolution. Frequent drought spells are getting common mainly in the central and the eastern parts of the nation. Denganmal, a village in Maharashtra, where people keep more than one wives just to fetch water from long distances should be an eye opener for all of us. Latest statistics report that India will run out of drinking water by the year 2040.  Farmer suicides are a reminder for us that the provider of food has himself no food security.


The change in the sea levels is leading to powerful cyclones, hurricanes and tsunamis every year.  Salt water intrusion in low lying agricultural plains could lead to food insecurity , spread of water related diseases and lack of fresh water.

India houses 3 biodiversity hotspots from 32 present: the Indo-Burma region, the Western Ghats and the Himalayas. The endemic amphibian species of the Western Ghats are fast dying out. The rare and exotic plants of the Himalayas are fast disappearing even before we get to know about their astounding medicinal properties. India has now only 23.07% of its forests left. Illegal logging for agriculture, grazing lands, urbanization and commercial plantation are the major causes of deforestation.


Destruction of the wild habitats is leading to a more exposed interaction of humans and animals, and hence, strange and often incurable diseases are cropping up from the warmer parts of the planet. The maladies are spreading on to the colder regions too, due to the gradual increase in the average temperature of the earth, which has increased by 0.6 degrees in the last century.


Greater political and bureaucratic attention is needed to diversify the livelihoods of the poor people to reduce their vulnerability. We need to have a significant increase of targeted investments in crop production and management e.g. crop rotation, mixed crop production and organic farming and advanced irrigation systems like drip irrigation and water sprinkler approaches, which should be given to smaller farmers at a subsidised rate. We need to utilise the maximum amount of our existing agricultural lands by using genetically hybrid crops which are more tolerant to the environmental stresses like droughts and floods. There is an immediate need for placing water meters in every Indian home for checking the water usage.

Afforestation will not only help in conserving forests and decreasing desertification, it will also help restoring the water table, in tackling natural disasters and in regaining the livelihoods of the people who are dependent on forestry. Crop pollination needs mutual coordination between the plants and the pollinators like honey bees. Hence, this would ensure maximum food production naturally.

It takes about 10 kgs of grain to produce 1 kg of meat. This contributes to the global warming and our failing health. Hence, people need to shift from a non vegetarian to a vegetarian diet. Buying fresh produce would lead to the practice of rooftop hydroponics, which is cheap and easy to produce, and would definitely act as a combat towards excess plastic packaging layers. Use of plastic bags need to be banned immediately. People need to use cloth/jute bags for getting their groceries.


The good old 3Rs : Reduce, Reuse and Recycle still hold true. We need to reduce our usage of packaged materials. We need to buy less. We need to reuse old clothes, books, toys and stuff. And finally, newspapers, bottles and scrap should be recycled. Scrap materials from used automobiles and e wastes should be treated properly and can be re used. Instead of recycling, we can burn the waste materials in waste incinerators and can generate electricity.


The development of a country largely depends upon the growth of the small scale industries. Amount of carbon produced is the benchmark of development. The small scale industries cannot cope up with the Clean Development Mechanisms initiated by the international communities. Hence, the laws enforced for the national and the international giants in the markets should not be imposed on these units. Rather, the government should bring on some innovative solutions in collaboration with the national leading institutions at a subsidised rate so that they can both thrive and prosper under the new laws, without compromising their income.


More number of nuclear power plants need to be setup in our country. And most importantly, the myths associated with the nuclear effects need to be sorted out first. Solar based water pumps in certain areas of Sambalpur district in Odisha has led to the efficient utilisation of water with the demonstration of an excellent use of solar energy. The Canal Solar Power Project launched in Gujarat, uses 19,000 Kilometers long network of Narmada canals across the state for setting up solar panels to generate electricity. Energy efficient systems are the need of the hour. Our country is a fast growing economy, with a lot of business opportunities. Hence, alliances with powerhouses can serve as a blessing for those 400 million people who do not have a proper access to electricity. Biogas is being implemented by village people since long, and is a perfect example of utilisation of organic farming. Using natural products is only possible if sustainable development is undertaken hands on with technologically feasible solutions for the environment.


India, being an affordable holiday destination for many, can serve as a heaven for ecotourism.  It leads to the preservation of the nature as well as works towards the protection and enhancement of job opportunities for the forest loving communities.


When we consume less energy, we spend less on energy. Hence, it is cost effective. Thus, we need to create laws for automobile and aviation industries, furnaces and miscellaneous factories to keep a check on their emissions, as per the standard norms decided by the governing bodies. By purchasing energy efficient gadgets, we can reduce our carbon footprint.

Awareness is need to be created amongst people for safer practices for nutrition, hygiene and sanitation, so that people are alert towards their changing environmental conditions and get more health conscious. More number of nutrition programs and clinics need to be functional in the rural areas for the proper diagnosis and the treatment of the people in a short period of time. Telemedicine and Any Time Medicine technologies can bring radical changes in the history of treatment.


There is a need for more number of people who can enhance sustainability development like agricultural scientists, ecologists and biotechnologists. People need to be more aware of their opportunities as scientists and the role they have to play in the society. Extra amount of the country’s budget needs to be spent on the research and development sectors to bring on more innovative and challenging solutions for tackling the environmental issues.

Keeping the frequent natural disasters in view, there is an urgent need for advanced weather forecasting systems and their timely broadcasting in our country to ensure minimum damage to lives and property.

We need to promote cities with excellent public transport facilities and need to encourage them to use ethanol and CNG. We need to convince our farmers to grow bio fuel crops like jatropha, camelina, switch grass and willows; along with normal food crops. These grow well in poor soil and use up less fertilizers. These are high in cellulose, and produce low carbonic fuels.


The solutions to these challenges are definitely not simple, and are not at all possible if they are only implemented by the government. Participation of the common mass is equally important to make these projects a success. More awareness is needed to be created amongst the public about their role towards the environment and their future. There is so much of positivity around us. We just need to make them happen.


As we stand today, miles apart

I am beginning to miss your presence

Now, I realise, an important fragment of my life has been lost

Lost to the universe

I never had thought of you in such a manner, Aiee

It had never occurred to me that people depart

Such intensity of sadness, a void, has been created back here

I wish you could come back

Everything I do,  reminds me of you

The way you walked. The way you talked. The way you ate. The way you behaved funny.

The way you loved us more than we did.

My eyes, fighting back the tears,

While I see our selfies.

Were we destined to stay for such a short period together?

This cruel decision of fate has left me shattered

I have lost my faith

There are things which only grand moms can teach their grand kids

I could hardly learn any.

I wish I could see you laugh again

I wish to have spent more time with you

I wish to have been cuddled by you harder

Because the world would have been a better place for everyone;

Its true if everyone, everywhere had an aiee as nice as you.


I still can’t believe that you have departed from the earth.

I couldn’t believe my ears the moment mummy broke out the news to us. I had my design paper the next day and was tensed about it as such. But when I saw her crying uncontrollably, bursting out speeches in between of her tearful episode, I felt terrible. I can never see my mum cry. Nor she could see her mum lying still.

I had never witnessed any deaths in the family before. You passed away first. I wish you hadn’t done this to me. I am a person who always took pride in saying that “Thank God I have my both sets of grandparents for me!” Not anymore.

You left me, just like everyone else does, but this time, you have moved on forever 😥

But you do remember the moments we have shared, don’t you?

You must have felt amazing when you’d have got the news about the arrival of your daughter’s daughter to this world; and would have held me in your arms for the first time. I hope that I would not have done anything stupid on you at that moment and if I had done, then I am sorry. Too late to beg apology but yes, I am sorry.

I take pride in saying that my aiee makes the best tomato chutney and fish curry. I would insist to eat the freshly caught fish from your backyard pond, and would set off with Aja to catch some small ones. When you fed me with your soft hands, the food became ambrosia. Summers were always fun with you. Our afternoon sessions of watching Odia movies were the best. When you used to come home, we used to savour on dried mango pieces with sugar. Our favourite meal was a yummy snack of chicken roll.  And you got all excited when you were left alone in the house. You got the freedom to eat anything sweet available in the kitchen; despite a hundred warnings from every one of us; despite of the knowledge that you had diabetes.

Ludo, ludo and ludo. More ludo, but not less. You must have been the undisputed champion of the indoor game of this century. You had a way of pulling the game in your favour every time. You always got the number you wanted on your die and if not, then you still would manage to put your token in the block you wanted. Awesome playing strategies. Our much-loved past time.

It seems that everyone except me has borrowed your genes for obsession with style. Nail and feet paint, powders, bangles, gorgeous saris…… all used to be your prized possessions. It is no wonder that you were so beautiful. A clear hearted soul, that’s what you were, Aiee.


Paan used to be your greatest companion. When the shopkeepers used to ask me about the brands of various ingredients used in your paan while you sent me to buy some, confusion clearly showed up on my face. You always kept it within you, literally. Even though chewing paan was just a daily routine, It won’t be an exaggeration to say that it was your soul mate.

We used to sit on your tummy and play. Had there been a tummy contest, yours surely would have won a position for its absolute roundness, fairness, smoothness and size. The coinage of the term moti bou for you still holds relevant.

Nobody could match the humorous way in which you spewed angry words on us. It was a delight to trouble you and listen to all those Odia slangs. It never hurt. While I am writing this, your dialogue “tu kebe ama gharu jibu, tu kaha ghara bhangibu lo” is echoing in my mind.

Aiee, I loved to talk to you. During these informal talks I discovered a different person inside you, completely different from the funny and casual lady altogether: a small girl, who had lost both her parents when she was only four, and had since been raised by her step mother. You never showed pain in your eyes, nor grief in your words, Aiee, you were so strong. My mummy has derived all her strengths from you. You have never complained against your step mom. You had merely said “How harshly she might have treated us, she still loved us and gave us food. I am today alive only because of her.” No person can ever say this kind of statement. It takes huge courage and even a bigger heart to say so. You were hardworking and have raised five children who have grown up to be counted in the percentage of that few good people the world currently holds now. Thank you for taking care of all of us. We hope to inherit your potentials and make you proud.

One day we shall meet at the other side of the horizon. May your soul always be our guide and support us through the tough times.


Nickie and Nishi




The whole kingdom was waiting for the golden moment.
The queen was expecting a child.
The Emperor sat anxious, praying for his heir………………
On that bright morning, she was born
Much to the disgust of the Emperor. He sat forlorn,
With his head downcast,
Was there no one to rule his kingdom by caste?

He barely looked at his daughter’s face
And not even at the mother. The queen was unconscious
In her pain, but not in her fate
Tears rolled down from her eyes
When her glances met that of her child.
The baby was cute, her face was radiant
She had features that would make any parent feel triumphant;
But not her father
Who was rather disgusted with the queen and left her side
Whilst all this, the queen did dutifully abide
Her Royal Husband, His Highness
Even though she had fallen from his grace
Still she adorned herself daily, with the choicest of garments,
Ornaments, lauded with precious stones and jewels,
His favorite scent, his favorite flower on her wetted hair;
To seek his attention, she did what
She did what not……….
But alas! The King, he forgot
That once upon a time he had a charisma towards his first consort……………..

He was free to marry as many times as he chose
He loved many, he loved none
He wedded princesses one after the other
It was definitely not a happy family, together, forever!
The new queens and their sons, plotted continuously
To get the throne
The princess, however always remained behind her veil.

She had no say in the stately matters
And was always compelled to remain in the women quarters.
Slowly and steadily, she grew up to become a breathtaking beauty
At the same time, lovely and pretty…….
The queen took great pride in the princess
Who was cheerful even at the time of distress
Her dainty feet never announced her presence at the fort
But her voice did.
Her songs, happy or tragic
Captured a great set of audience.
One day as she was sitting alone by the pond
Someone stopped by to hear her singing.

He looked on, amazed
While she sat gazing him behind her shroud
Tall and handsome that he was
She had seen many like him before
But none of them had ever stolen her heart………….
She tried, with all her might
But could not stop thinking about him, day or night
Same was the case in the opposite side
Even though both of them knew the end of their story would be tragic
They secretly hoped for a magic
A magic, which would change their lives forever
Then they could stay forever, happily and ever after………….

But alas, some dreams do never come true……
In the quest for supremacy
Her love was seized by her own brother
Who ruthlessly killed her lover
Her heart was ripped apart
“How could he do this to me?
My brother, my own brother?”
She realized her destiny
Was not all glittery as it looked to be
The thirst for power had surpassed all blood relations
Human beings killing God’s own creations!!!!
Her kohl rimmed eyes
No longer held the same gaze,
Her soul had been wrenched
Drenched, in blood
Her identity was lost amidst the crowd
She was now just a face of the Harem, as she used to be
She was a Mughal. A White Mughal.


I was inspired to write this poem after reading about the Women of the Mughal Empire. The term ” White Mughals” symbolizes two things. First, white color is usually associated with beauty and purity. White is also the color of the dresses the widows wear. Sadly, the Mughal princesses were living in the biggest of the ironies of the world. Most of the Mughal princesses were unwed, and were living their lives in the darkness of the voids their destiny had created for them. To eliminate more people who were eligible to get the throne, the princesses were banned from entering into matrimonial alliances. Usually in the Mughal family, there used to be marriages inside the same family i.e. cousins marrying one another. But after Shah Jahan came to power, he had already killed his brothers and cousins so there was no one who could marry his sisters. And the trend continued down for Aurangzeb as well.

Read this beautiful blog piece about the Mughal princesses.


Sorry, folks! I kept you waiting for so many days…….actually I was really busy with my studies……..but now I won’t allow it to overcome my passion to write!
As usual, you need a lot of patience and time to go through this. [I write less, but still I write more. I have the biggest mouth in the whole world.]
Let me tell you about my recent trip to New Delhi. It’s not recent, really, as I had been to the place in the month of June, but the artistic impressions of the city still remain vivid in my mind.
The historic city of Delhi or New Delhi has seen many a great rise and fall of kings and queens, emperors and empires. Well now we stay in a democratic country, so we don’t have kings or kingdoms anymore; but they have left their monuments for us perhaps as their legacy. They may be dead, but their memories live on.
Some months back I used to watch a TV program on DD National titled as the Forts of India. I’d really like to thank to Indian Government for producing such an educational show. It used to show about all the Mughal as well as the Rajput forts. Some of the Rajput forts even have their descendants residing there. I had been really fired up by this show as I had been after seeing Maharana Pratap, so when Daddy announced that we were going to visit the glorious Indian capital, my excitement knew no bounds.
The day we reached the place, we were too tired to make any trips. So, as expected, we went to KFC for dinner :p [Quite thrilled about KFC as KFC Bhubaneswar hadn’t opened then] [Born to eat] ;] :p
The next day, we started at 7.30 a.m. The traffic laws had been made stricter because just a day back then Rural Minister Gopinath Munde had expired due to a car accident and doctors had written in his biopsy report that he could have been alive if he had his seat belt on. So we back seated passengers were obliged to put on the seat belts. We had completely left on our driver to guide us around the place. So he was doing all the directing part. I quite do not remember the dates and order of our visits, so I’m presenting here a random account.
We first halted near the famous Birla Temple. I wish we had clean temples back in Orissa here! It is a  beautiful temple and has a very peaceful atmosphere. It is large and has white marble flooring and has been maintained nicely even though it is so old. The sound of the temple bells would fill your hearts with a sense of tranquility.

Our next stop was at the National History Museum. They provide you a free guide. My God, the museum is huge! But we were rushing like a Superfast express. We missed out everything. The history museum showcases Indian history from the beginning of the Harrapan and Mohenjo Daro Civilisation. I do not know where it ends. For a history fanatic like me, it would require a week’s time to see all the items on display and take notes. We went through the civilizations, then the Mauryan, Gupta dynasties, birth and growth of Buddhism and Jainism………and then daddy was such in a hurry that we had to miss out the other things. I still managed to take a quick peek on the Mughal miniature paintings. If you are a CBSE student, then you must have studied history in 6th and 7th standard. All the pictures in the books have been taken from the Museum’s display only.


We need more Indian historians in our country. It is really a shame that Indian World Heritage sites have been mostly studied and deciphered by foreign historians. Well, what can I do. There isn’t any other job here except Engineering. All hail Science!
There was a female skeleton on display. Even turtle shell bangles were intact on her hands. Pottery, coins, paintings, idols, relics……..if any day the museum’s security is breached, then the thieves will be billionaires :p

Our guide, Mrs Neena Jain, was a sweet old lady and was explaining us like a professor. She had the light and the feelings in her eyes while speaking about our history. Since we were visiting from Odisha, she showed us the Sun God idol preserved carefully. The Konark Sun Temple does not house it. It was really a proud moment! She reminded me of my dearest Bio teacher Reena Madam.
Bidding a sad adieu to the place, we moved on our journey further and spent a short time at Jantar Mantar.


Then we stumbled across one of the oldest monument of Delhi, the Qutub Minar. It had been built in the year 1193 by Qutubuddin Aibak. He had built it for his daughter. Standing at a height of 72.5 meters, it is the second highest minar in the world. The minar has suffered a lot of damages due to natural calamities like earthquakes. An archway has already broken from the top. was repaired by Iltutmish and many other emperors who ruled next. The famous Iron pillar- the metallurgical marvel of India stands in front of the Qutub Minar. It belongs to the Gupta dynasty and it is always wrongly referred to as the Ashokan pillar due to architectural similarities between its style and that from the Ashokan era. When you enter the place, you can see the tombs of Qutubuddin Aibak and his successor Iltutmish on the right side. There is a marked difference between the tombs of Mughal Emperors and the Delhi Sultans. The tombs of the Delhi Sultans are not covered by arched forts like that of the Mughals. They are lying in a dilapidated state.

qutub minar
Now let us get a little bit of patriotic as well as historic. We had paid a visit to the Rashtrapati Bhavan, Amar Jawan Jyoti and the India Gate. Rashtrapati Bhavan is the home of the President of India. Amar Jyoti Jawan is a flame which is kept burning continuously in the memory of the soldiers who have died fighting for our motherland.   I salute to all those brave hearts who have died fighting for our country, and are still fighting for our betterment and want to give us justice.



I could not quite understand the importance of visiting Lotus temple. We went and sat inside. That’s it. It is a peaceful place where seats have been made up of marble. The room is so cool and it almost lulls you to sleep :p But I must admit that the place has been very well constructed. An architectural marvel indeed. Doesn’t it remind you of the famous Opera House at Sydney?


Our final destination at Delhi was the place from where the Prime Minister hoists our National Flag every Republic Day. You guessed it right…its Red Fort! Built by Shah Jahan, it is a real beauty. The fort has got a Meena Bazaar which is functional till today. We purchases some key rings and purses as materialistic memories, but they were too expensive :[ The fort even houses a small museum in it which we had to see in just two minutes, as it was already curfew time. The museum has a dress preserved carefully of that of a princess. Really, the craft work of that era remains unmatched with that of today’s time. Other stuff included swords, utensils and other things we couldn’t go through. A light and sound show is also being organized in front of the Diwan-e-aam[ironically!]
Here I would like to distinguish between Rajput forts and Mughal forts. During the Mughal reign, there were a lot of invaders who were thirsty for the royal blood, hence for extra protection, the forts have thick and large walls, which go missing in the forts at Madhya Pradesh. Take, for example, the Gwalior fort. The ruling Sindhiyas had made Gwalior a princely state during the British rule. Hence they had no requirement of such huge walls for security. The windows of both types of forts also show marked differences. But there are some similarities too. The minars are a mixture of both Islamic and Rajput architectures. I need to see some Rajput forts to give an extensive report on this.

Pooh! Enough of this Delhi talk…….now let’s move our eyes on to Agra!
Our first stoppage while visiting Agra was at a Gurudwara. I had never been to a Gurudwara before. It had been made up of white marble. [ Marble, marble everywhere, no another stone in the brink XD ] The persons there were preaching us not to eat meat and love all animals. How could I have ever explained to them that I love everyone but Chicken is my favorite? ;] I wished they had a langar :[

Then I met Sahenshah-e-Hind, Jalaluddin Mohammed Akbar…….not in person actually, but at his tomb. After seeing the movie and the ongoing show Jodhaa Akbar, I was delighted to meet the greatest emperor of the Mighal Empire, even though it was at his gravesite :p

The tomb is a real huge one. It had been built by Emperor Jahangir in the memory of his father. The tomb has no lighting system like that of the Taj Mahal hence it is very dark. But it is really cool inside. Just to think, we are alive and we are being troubled by the scorching heat, on the contrary Jalal is dead and he is sleeping in a permanent A/C room like condition. Now I’m real jealous of him.
The fort has a ground where some deer are residing. It is indeed a great way to utilize a place and save two diminishing things together: flora, fauna and history.

Agra Fort, here I am!

Agra Fort had been built by Emperor Akbar when he shifted his base from Delhi to Agra for security concerns. It is smaller than The Red Fort. You can see the Taj Mahal from here. Shah Jahan had been under home arrest at Agra Fort and he died seeing his creation from a distance. It has a small room where it is said that Shan Jahan offered his daily prayers. Most of the rooms were locked but I chanced to see one open. The rooms are small and the walls of the room have carvings where decorative items would have been put once, but now they are absolutely empty. The Britishers have taken away most of them, mostly from the Red Fort, where the British soldiers resided. They had remodeled the place, destroying the original designs.
Finally the time has come for me to introduce you to the Taj Mahal…even though the 7th wonder of the world needs no formal introduction. It was built by Emperor Shah Jahan in the memory of his youngest wife Arjumand Banu Begum or Mumtaz Mahal. Mumtaz Mahal had bore 14 children of Shah Jahan and had died during childbirth just at the age of 38. She had made him promise not to marry any other begum after her demise. People say the Empress Consort was prettier than the moon, and the Emperor could never resist her temptation.

The Taj has been completely been built out of pure white marble. It took 16 years to build it. I got goose bumps when I reached the scene. History can get on to your nerves at that place. You can almost feel the romance……..but not in the scorching heat.
We had been to Agra on the day it was 47 degree Celsius. Poor we :[
Wikipedia even tells you that Shah Jahan had cut the hands of his 22000 workers, who had come all the way from Persia to build this magnificent beauty; but it is not true. We had a guide with us from the Govt. Tourism Dept., who said that this is completely a hoax and no one knows why this has become widespread and strong. According to him, the workers were allowed to build rooms for them to stay. During the construction of the Taj, the workers felt that it was necessary to build a mosque nearby so that they could offer their daily prayers. Hence, a mosque was built. To maintain equilibrium for the structure, a guest house was made on the opposite side. It is difficult to distinguish between them, as both have been made as Xerox copies to each other. Shah Jahan gave the workers huge amount of money and gifts. Some of the descendants of the workers still stay in the neighboring areas and do the same work their forefathers did: crafting of stones.
We needed to wear a special kind of covering on our shoes so that the tomb would not get dirty. The central part of the tomb has got a mausoleum where both the bodies of Mumtaz Mahal and Shah Jahan have been placed in separate coffins. Actually the one that we see is fake. The real bodies are below the fake ones, where once people were allowed to go, but now it has been closed.
Shah Jahan wanted to make his own tomb too. So he had started making the Black Taj, which overlooked the White Taj over the river Yamuna. But then Aurangazeb had already come into power, and he had ordered to put his father at house arrest. Hence, Shah Jahan’s dream could never be fulfilled. On the top of that, Aurangazeb had brutally killed Dara Shikoh, Shah Jahan’s eldest son who was worthy of the throne, and his family. Dara Shukoh was the emperor’s most beloved son. In this grief, Shah Jahan’s health had started to fail, and even under the intense care of his favorite daughter Princess Jahanara, he could not be saved. His last wish was to be buried near his beloved Mumtaz, who had died years ago, but their love has not died. It will exist as long as the Taj will, and I believe it is for ever. On full moon nights, when the moonlight falls on the Taj, you can see inside it from outside at a distance. In other words, the monument is translucent. Fees: Rs 500-/- to see this mystery being unrevealed.
When the construction of the Taj Mahal ended, Shah Jahan had distributed a kind of sweet called Panchi Petha, which is native to Agra to the whole public, to express his happiness. We were so much impressed by the musings of the guide that we purchased a packet from Bikanerwalas. I would like to give you a free piece of advice: Never ever eat a Panchi Petha. They are even made up of pumpkin. Gross!

The Taj mahal has been beautifully maintained, but the pollution from the refineries at Mathura has not spared it. This splendor has started turning yellow in color due to the reaction of Calcium Carbonate [white marble] with the oxides of nitrogen and sulphur. Acid rain also adds fire to it. We need to save our heritage. After all, its our legacy.

My visit to Delhi and Agra was not a piece of cake. In the middle of the summer season, the temperature varied from 45 to 47 degree Celsius. I had nearly fainted while walking back from the Taj Mahal. The climate of Delhi is quite dry. We were continuously making up for our lost body fluids by drinking water, lemon juice, cola, cucumber and ice creams. Life in Delhi is harsh. The traffic is so intense and the place is so heavily populated, that you feel like a lost grain of salt in a heap of sand. The expense on top of that is heart rendering. We could only manage to eat Thalis. Food consisted of only paneer, rice, dal, dahi and a salad. Back at home, we have so many veggies. I have always created a fuss when mummy cooks them. There I realized I have been so lucky to get proper food to eat. The result of AIPMT was declared the day before our return and my mood had become completely off.

I would like to extend my heartfelt greetings towards the Indian Government and UNESCO for the excellent work they have undertaken towards the protection of our glorious cultural heritage. Also, tourism is a booming industry and it provides employment for thousands of people. Foreign tourists love coming to India because for them it is a cheaper destination than other countries. I hope that this good work will always continue and will extend towards my state as well. Odisha has a plethora of temples, mostly belonging to the time of 9th-12th century. But they fail to get recognition due to the lack of government funds and they always remain unclean. I hope that my article sends a message to all the people of Odisha so that we all can work together to protect our Odia culture.
Good or bad memories…..memories are memories; and they lie in your brain but never clog it, when you think about the past time, they are magically revived instantly, placing a smile on your lips and tears in your eyes. I wish I could go back to Delhi again. I have missed out so many places of visit.
My dream list has expanded: now I want to go on a historical tour of India. I know that will cost me a lot, but I will. This dream has to be fulfilled.  And I hope that someday it will.

CONFESSION: All the theories which I have written are purely based upon my knowledge with due reference to my history textbooks, Wikipedia and Agra Tourism Department. No fact should be challenged publicly as it is just a travel memoir. However, I’ve tried to put my sincere efforts in collecting real details as far as possible. I have provided numerous links for further studies.


Debashrita ;]


Reviewing events of 2 years back……………………….
12th boards. Fearful and nasty. Just before D-Day, came the Happy Practicals’ Week in the month of Fantastic February. Exam bells are heard around the corners. Questions are anticipated and answers are discussed. Revisions are in a full swing. How awesome.
Most of the students love practicals, but not me. I am very afraid of them. One single mistake and you have to start it all over again. And repeating that stuff back home in the Lab manual is another headache. We do not have time as such, and then when we pupils see those dusty old manuals on our desks, we find it even nauseating.
During lab classes every Thursday and Friday, our teachers divided us into groups for the lack of time and instruments. But during exam, no such luck. We have to be on our own. When with my friends, I try to do everything correctly but when I perform them alone all the experiments go horribly wrong. And I think you should not know about my handwriting. With each page and diagram, it turns worse. So in short practicals suck for me and I hate it.
But Man proposes and God disposes. Soon came my Physics Exam. I was a bundle of nerves. When my turn came, I bent to pick up a paper from the lottery system and I had been assigned Meter Bridge experiment. I thanked God and started writing.
Everything was okay, until I started the practical. My observations looked alien to me. Most of my friends had learnt the observations from the earlier version of the experiment, but not me. You can say that I’m somewhat honest, but I’m pretty lazy too XD
I must have looked confused. My teacher came to me.
“What happened? Aren’t you able to do this easy practical?”
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry, it’s just that I’m unable to correct some of my observations……………..”
“You are performing the experiment? Now? At this hour? Oh my God, manipulate them, fast!”
Surprise was building on surprise. I was thinking that I was a good kid. I do not know the art of manipulation. But I had to do it. All the waters of sincerity and honesty finally went down the drain.
Don’t ask about the viva. I got 4/5 questions right, and the teacher on inspection must have thought what a silly kid I am.
Fast forward 3 days. Chemistry practical exam. Smarting with excitement, I was handed my own set of organic compound for detection. I did it without any help. But still, I had my Salt chart with me. At the last moment ever Sir allowed us to have a little peek into the book……………
Biology exam was the best. I was able to answer all the questions and did my experiments with perfection. I mean, you can call me as a perfectionist because the rest of the class copied down my work when Ma’am was not in the room. Well, what do they say? The mice play while the cat’s away.
I’m definitely not against manipulation. It is actually required sometimes, because theory can never carter fully to the needs of the Lab conditions and vice versa. Manipulation saves time and marks [And of course, a good spank from the teacher :p ] It’s just that I can never forget the lines from a Lab manual that I had:
“As a science student, you should treat your subject as your religion and your Lab as your place of devotion and worship. Manipulation by any means is wrong and disrespectful towards your subject.”
Try explaining it to a modern Indian teenager who watches IPL like crazy and has made Cricket his faith.


I’m not much of a story writer, but well at least I can try…….


Not considered much as a success……..That’s what people feel………

They are the guys, who surely did have a past but are completely uncertain about their future…..

Some days back I was waiting for my bus when a man and his daughter came by a bike. The daughter was to travel by the bus. When the bus didn’t turn up for quite some time, that uncle asked me:

“Where are you going, beta?”



Oh God! Why don’t people mind their own business? And I had only thought that I have the biggest mouth on this planet.

“For AIPMT Coaching.”


Awesome. Really. He has no idea about Medical Entrance Exams. Is he really an educated Indian?

“So you are in which class?”

“I dropped a year.”

“So that means you are in 12th class?????”

Uncle totally confused :p

“No, that means I’ve completed my 12th class.”

“That means you are not studying anything now?????”

I swear I could have shown him all my books and notes, but I didn’t. I wanted to explain him, but……….let it be.

I could have told him that his daughter is jobless after her graduation and is now doing random courses and taking random exams for a decent salary.

But still he pinpointed me :[

Wait! There’s more to it………

We feel sad for ourselves when we see our friends getting ahead of us in education, but pat ourselves on our backs when we realise that NOT EVERYONE IN MY FRIEND CIRCLE WANTED TO BE AN ENGINEER…………..

The same case with my cousin. When she says that she’s dropped 3 YEARS for IAS preparation, guess what people say???

“You are married now. If you are not getting any job, then stop this fuss and raise a family.”


We get happy with each mock test result and anticipate for more.

We are greedy. We are fierce competitors.

We forget about friends and relatives [ though its difficult for me to leave FB 😀 ].

We are told to study 18 hours a day.

We are reminded about our current status everyday.

We tend to get more sympathy than others.

We get more nervous than freshers. They are definitely one year ahead of us……

We are the ones who have sacrificed a year of our lives [of course no one has forced us]

Our parents are more tensed for us because we are unsettled.

We try to remain positive despite of all the depression.

We just want that rank………….

And we do not want to blame the ALL INDIA QUOTA SYSTEM FOR RANKING [please don’t let me get started]

We are neither bookworms, nor losers……..

We just want another chance!!!!!

That’s the story of a dropper.

That’s the story of me.


I had started off like this:

Life is short       

But the journey is long

To sustain all along

You gotta be strong

Its difficult to cover the path

All the time facing the fate’s wrath

But still there is a need to grow

There are still a thousand miles to go.

You need an aide by your side      

Who assists you during this bumpy ride

That person is none other than your best friend

Guiding you through all upcoming trends

Without whom life is monotonous

Together all your achievements become synchronous.

My heart aches when I see you sitting lonely

While others’ minds remain jolly

I know how it feels when left all alone, tarnished with pain

And when all of them term you as insane

When you gulp down your tears

Your best friend is there to make you cheer.

I’ve been pushed down the cliff hundreds of times

I strive endlessly, but still there’s hope

That someone might just throw down a rope

So today I’ve brought that rope for you

Signaling friendship;

I’ve extended my hand; now its your turn

To make the best out of this

Don’t think of your past which you’ve left behind long ago

Because there are still, a thousand miles to go……………………

…………………and ended up like this:

My dear friend,

Its the moment we meet the last time to make amends;

To clarify your nagging doubts about me

Yes, I was concerned for you

And I got too, my reward

A slap on to my sincerity

A treacherous look onto my honesty

But let me make it clear to you that

Reinforcing my thoughts into yours was not my idea

I can’t change myself for you in a day…….

I’m just…….being me!

Is this wrong?

I know both of us are indifferent, yet different

Similar, but not the same

I realized the fact

Though a bit late;

So no need to get torrent

While I remain insane.

I still love to remember the first day

When we had met

I was happy beyond imagination

The wildest of my dreams were coming true

I had got a cool friend: Brand new!

At an unknown place, where all I had was my own disregards for self respect

I had believed that you, my friend, would come to my aid

What else do I need, in this transitory world?

Your faith and attention……….

Relieved me from all my tensions

You have no idea, my friend; that you do the placebo effect on me

Lighting up hope on my destiny as far as my eyes carry me;

Although I do need your peace of mind for my mental stability,

I’m not thriving upon your courtesy.

 I can’t wait for you anymore.

 I’ve just got sick of explaining my inspirations to you……..

Dipped in cries, I now try to pick them up alone.

Yes, alone, as I was always;

On frequent hangouts with depression.

But now, I can’t just stand around in life

I need to accomplish something

I need to move on………

So please, wake up and realize that

You can’t have 2 choices at the same time

The time of making the crucial decision has come.

Either you are choosing me or losing me…………………

The choice is completely yours

But whatever you choose, you must do it well

Don’t keep me hanging, buddy

Or else I’d never be able to get strong and sturdy.

So if you have the guts

Say it straight on my face

“You silly girl, you have no idea about what it takes to be a friend………..

So just get lost from my life; you are unwanted……………………”

Just getting a feeling that my mind isn’t as stable as it used to be…..

But I’ve learnt my lesson…..never to put your heart, soul and trust on people you barely know…..they hurt you because you are not like them…..got a taste of that…..so I keep on cursing myself…..WHY AM I SO DIFFERENT???? Still, I thank you, friend, whose name I’d like to keep anonymous, for making me realise the complexities of life when I joined college….that precarious moment when all the advices of parents were falling on deaf ears….you made me understand that its time to grow up. So thank you, TORCHBEARER.


Perfectly made for each other, isn’t it?

Well, this is me with my best friend, Sonali Suman.

I’ve written about so many things on my blog, but perhaps never written about this meek creature. Why should I’ve written? She was always with me by my side. We were inseparable. Two bodies, one soul…………………

When I was in class 6 [as she tells me], my then best friend Simi had moved to Bilaspur, Chattisgarh. I used to try on her land line the whole day but no avail. She was gone, and I was sitting here at home, crying.

I didn’t have her contact number.

But she had.

She could have called me up.

But she never did.

Perhaps, during packing, she had misplaced the number diary.

Whatever maybe, we reunited back after 3 years and that’s a different story…………………..

Meanwhile, Miss Sonali Suman had come and had extended her hand towards me, signalling friendship.

Till then, I had no idea who she was. Did she ever exist in our class? I had never seen her.

I was blinded with tears and here she was, ever ready with a hanky.

“I’ll never leave your side, I promise”, she said.

I smiled.

From then, it was always me and Sonali. We had become one of the epitomes of friendship in my school. I was bold enough to speak out the truth, she was tactful enough to handle all sorts of problems which would then pile up after I would have opened my big mouth. We were so different, yet so indifferent to the common problems we shared. We would laugh and laugh till the joke would shake off our head and then start crying. Thinking of all those mistakes which we made while conducting that Physics Practical. Thinking of the classmates who perhaps loved us but utilized us more. Thinking of that school which did give us education, but no more.

We kept on thinking…………………………..

Year after year passed. Both me and Sonali were always clinging on to each other: a crab like mentality had developed in me. Even if she would score a single mark more than me in any exam, I would be outraged.

“Talented!” I would snigger.

She would never even revert back.

I can guarantee you that even if there is another earth in this universe, you would never find a girl like this. A perfect multitask-er, She tirelessly types her father’s letters and thesis. She cooks food and cleans the house. She repairs all the electrical appliances of her house. All this at “intracellular” level. At “inter-cellular” level, she was the class monitor. So, both of us would set in a frenzy of motion once we reached school. She wrote quotes on the blackboard while I cleaned it. She would make a list of all those who forgot their notebooks at home and I would collect them. She went to call the teacher in charge during free periods while I took charge of the whole class meanwhile…………

And so that was that. We were always together. She was a House Captain and I was the School Captain. Again she was a House Captain the next year and I was looking at her tie with hungry eyes.

Still she said nothing.

I was always jealous of her even if we were nearly similar. But she never thought about me in this way.

She was with me during my toughest times. Helping me out with all my decisions. [Well, you know how decisive I am :p] Cared for me when all my so called best friends tossed me around like a rag doll. She was igniting others’ lives while burning her own.

We knew that though we would stay in contact forever, it would be never ever compact like when we were at school. After class 10, we had thought that we would be separated forever. But I’m thankful to God to have given me 2 more years to spend with this cute friend in my life.

Class 12th examinations…………entrance examinations……..the delayed results…………we stuck on together. Long hours of phone calls did not suffice us. We were always desperate to talk more and more, spend more time.

But man proposes and God disposes………………….. Soon she was packed off to IGIT Sarang. And the gap widened enormously.

Now she’s studying engineering and I’m back here at my hometown, missing her. Such a lovely child is absent in my life. I feel scattered and lonely. I feel ruthless. We call each other almost everyday. She’s adjusting to her new college and hostel life while I’m still struggling with my Class 11th and 12th books to become something in life. Surely, she has emerged as a winner. In this cut throat competition, she has managed to get a seat in Computer Science in a government college. I know that the IT market is down now, but it’ll definitely spring up to action after sometime. She told me all about how she was ragged daily by her seniors. She had to give introductions, catwalks and a lot more. God only knows how she’s suffering all of this in silence. And despite being her best friend, I can do nothing but sit and cry in silence.

I’ve become the same girl of 8 years ago, who was lost. Today I’ve grown up, but I feel the same void in my life.

I love you a lot, my dear Sonali and I’m proud to have a friend like you……………………….


I had never felt that life would take such a sharp turn. I had literally thought that if I study hard, things would fall in their right places.

Nothing of that sort ever happened.

For I learnt that when you grow up, the responsibilities also multiply; and not to mention, the stress of decision making.

Never believe that your duties are over……because just then you discover that the race has just begun.

I always feel low, but this year has been devastating. Born on 1st April, 1996, I became the “April Fool” of everyone’s eyes. Why I was born on that year, not a year earlier or later, I wonder. Then perhaps my situation would not have been so critical as it is now. I’m literally at a triple point now. It might amuse you, but let me tell you that my batch was the first to be experimented on CCE type of learning method: year 2009 and the first ever batch to give a JEE Main, JEE Advanced and NEET UG paper: year 2013. I’m dumbstruck. Its not good to be the cup of tea of a panel of educationists. No, never. If sometimes we can’t stand lectures of teachers, how can you ever expect us students to be manhandled by the Education minister? Man, that’s worse than a nightmare!

As I was saying, I am a 17 year old KID. Because I let my parents take my decisions and I can’t take my own decisions. I keep wondering whether my decision would be right or wrong, what would be the pros and cons…………so confused.

It all started from March this year. The tension was running at a high velocity, bumping right onto my little brain. The Class 12 CBSE Board Examinations. Fair enough. It passed away, gripping onto my sleepless nights. Next came the entrance examinations. They were the real tests of my understanding and my keys for getting into a good college. They were ruthless. The nervousness before a test , the tough question papers, the small gaps for rough scribbling, the negative marking, the time limit, the hot and sultry rooms, the anxiety on the face of both parents and the child about the percentage of the child clearing the test, the frantic search on internet for latest answers, the scolding and sobs  upheaval at home, the long wait for result declaration, the mixed feeling of anger, happiness and sadness, the curses on the students to have tried better, the registration and reporting at the required college, the high fees………………………………………………………………….

Finally, allotted to the college and studies can start.

While giving exams, I had never thought about all this.

Such a long journey to success……..yet an eternal failure…………….

Thriving on parents’ money, working for their expectations and personal upliftment…….

Purchasing smiles on parents’ tears………….

Trying on stand on own feet while squishing their hands………………

Yeah this is me……………….

Curses on this poor child.

Why was I ever born?

I can never, ever take a decision correctly. Can’t distinguish between stuff. I wonder how my school made me Class Monitor and School Captain. Well, what did they see in me?

I don’t know what they saw in me, but now I’ve surely seen myself: I’m trying to follow my dream by establishing my parents’ poverty.

There was a tie between two institutions I was supposed to join: KIIT University and VSSUT, Burla. Both were tempting enough for me to choose from. Let me outline the pros and cons for you:


  • Situated at my home town
  • Branch allotted: Mechanical Engineering
  • Private Institution, expensive; though going to attain International Status: With best of the best facilities one can ever imagine
  • Take part in various extra curricular activities
  • Take coaching for CAT and GATE
  • Stay with family
  • Try for Medical Entrance Examinations once again

VSSUT, Burla

  • Government Institution, one of the oldest in India: Feel proud to study there
  • Branch allotted: Metallurgical and Materials Engineering
  • Perhaps going to attain NIT status someday

Both the options have been so tempting for me that it was [ and still is ] a very hard decision for me to choose one. A typical hamlet situation: to be or not to be.

For my happiness my parents spent a lot of money so that I could read in an institution where I would read happily and bring pride and laurels for my family. But this was not to happen. My mind keeps wandering at a triple point:

  • Study for medical entrance exams.
  • Go to VSSUT and try for a branch change.
  • Study for medical entrance exams along with studying in KIIT so that my 1 year may not be totally a drop situation.

People give a lot of advices, but I was the one to choose my path to glory. When I wanted to join VSSUT, my parents were a strict no no but my cries finally led them to do my admission there. I mean, who on earth wants to leave a chance to join a Government institution? But I don’t know what has happened to me. When I came back home, my mindset was changed.

“I want to stay with you, Mummy and study for Medical Entrance Exams once again.”

My parents were bewildered. “What on earth do you want? Why are you so confused? Do you know for your childishness how much we have to pay?”

And this is it. When I make up  my mind to study at KIIT, I think of MBBS. Just then, I think of VSSUT and my head moves 360 degrees once again.

I kept on crying since I saw on the website of OJEE about VSSUT, and I am crying till date. My future is bleak. I have no present, no future. I have broken it before it started taking own shape. I have no idea what’s going on. Two years…….I had got 2 years……..perhaps I did not use them well. I went for coaching. 4.5 hours everyday. I never missed a day at my school. I was the class monitor. I have cleaned tables, blackboards and swept the classroom. But today I’m lost. My parents, are as depressed as I am. They have always helped me within their means. My mother never pesters me to do any household work. Both of them always take good care of me and have never let me go deprived of some facility due to its high cost. If I start writing down everything, then perhaps you would stop reading the post.

Life has just begun, but yet I think of death. It must be so peaceful. Calmness and serenity……………………I yearn for it……….But I’m still not done, my friends! Someday, may be someday I’d do such a thing that would make my parents and my school feel proud of me. Then I won’t have to bear the shame of studying at a private university, how nice it may be. Perhaps I might crack Medical Entrance Exams next year……..Then a new struggle would await me.


“Do what you think is right even if you are criticised. You’ll be damned if you do and you will be damned if you don’t.”


Well, you have got it all wrong. I’ve not turned 19.

My parents just completed the 19th year of their marriage. They are on their way to the 20th milestone.

You see, life is a great struggle:] and so this goes on and on…………………

According to me the relationship between my parents has remained unchanged: they fought even yesterday-13th of July-their marriage anniversary. The issue? Mummy had made chilli paneer and wanted daddy to eat it. It was really very yummy. But daddy, being a very simple guy refused it. He even refused to have some Chicken Biriyani which was purchased from a fast food joint on this happy occasion. [I ate even the last fragrant irresistible morsel of it]  So they started quarrelling.

“So you can eat in your office parties. But what I make at home is rubbish for you!”

“No, no, not at all.  I want to eat something plain and simple. It’s just that……….”

“Leave it. You feel I’m giving you poison or what?”

They are a squabbling duo.  Since my father has his office far away from our home, so we all meet once a week. Even then, my parents fight: sometimes in a funny manner, or sometimes the water level goes above our heads………………………

Actually, most of the times.

From food to clothes to daily mundane activities: my parents share with each other. Same goes for battling with each other. Luckily I and Nishi have learnt it the harder way-to stay out of their tracks and not to be on any one’s side during their fight. After all, fighting is injurious to health……………..

My parents have stood against the tough times. They have been always together. They get afraid against the odds sometimes, but still they keep on the struggle. From educating us to earning more money-everything is indeed a struggle. Being a mom and a dad is no child’s play. So they are the best parents and we love them a lot……………………….

It was 8.15 p.m. already. Nishi and I were restless here back at home. We had made some ‘great’ plans for them. My parents were outside. My aunt was also to come. I had to make a striking Saturday anyhow. I had earned my first salary- mere Rs 300/- from freelance writing. I used “my” money and had laminated a picture as a gift to mummy. As for daddy, Nishi had made a first aid box.

I had purchased a cake. It was small, but yummy. Both of us had made a card for them.
It read:

Being a mom and a dad is not that easy

We know it drives your head crazy.

We shout, we shriek

Keep on demanding eggs and streak

We make you chase us

Sometimes your heart boils to give us a curse;

We mess the room

We avoid to be groomed!

We hate studies :p

And whole day play out with buddies.

You just wish you could sell us on flipkart

And get new kids-bright and smart!

We know we trouble you a lot,

We are a bundle of mischief

But still on your laps

 We do love to creep.

You clean the house

Cook food

Earn the bucks

And set our mood.

You try to be the best for us.

You are the ones on whom we can trust.

Only because of your love and care

We have grown up till date

With all your blessings and prayers

We still cannot return your due rates.

So on this special day

Let’s avoid any treachery,

Oh my dearest Mummy and Daddy,



Remember the line from the movie 3 idiots: “Life is a race”? Yes, you have got it all right. Our lives are now dangling from the post. Because we have now completed Class 12 and have still no idea about what we want to be when we “grow up”.

Its really traumatic for me and millions of students like me to figure out a line which they want to make their destination. With 2 years of hard labor for board and entrance exams, congratulations to all those guys who have qualified with flying colors. One of my classmates has secured 96% in CBSE 12th Board Exams and got a seat under Aeronautical Engineering in IIT Chennai. Brilliant guy, lucky enough? Well this may sound absurd, but actually both hard work and luck play equal roles in administrating our career. My friend secured 94% and did qualify NEET 2013 [like me], but still she’s dropping a year because this year we have no idea what is going on. The counseling dates for various states are not yet out. She’s dropping, because: [most possible reasons]

·         She is determined to crack NEET next year and fulfill her dream of becoming a successful cardiologist.

·         Next time luck will surely favor her as in one year she would have learnt many things. God will surely reward her for her hard work.

·         She’s not prepared to learn something else.

I feel the third point is not with me and many students. We know we have to make something out of our lives, but sadly we can’t pinpoint to a direction. Even after career counseling, we are unable to make a decision. But why?

Perhaps the answer lies in us.

I believe the following points are responsible for our fallacy:

·         Choosing wrong stream after class 10. It is really better to get 90% in Arts rather than scoring 50% in Science stream. One of my classmates wanted to learn Economics. But her father pushed her into Science stream. She could never pass a single class test.

·         Decision taken by parents instead of students for their liking subject. True, I admit that a parent will always choose a career which has more money; but if the child wants to study history, what’s wrong in that? Remember, its your life, not your parents, that is going to be affected by perhaps the biggest decision of your life till date.

·         Jack of all trades, master of none. I’m the perfect example. I love biology. So I wanted to become a doctor/zoologist. I love physics too. Hence I wanted to become a space scientist. I love uniforms, marching and salute. So I wanted to join Air Force. So many thoughts. But I was going coaching for engineering entrance exams. Hence, somehow I did qualify but I failed to live up to even my own expectations.

·         Being smart is another factor. You are so good in all the subjects that sometimes you fail to realize where you can exploit your maximum potentials.

So after all the results of entrance exams are out, we students are seen scrambling in front of various educational institutions. If not medical, then engineering. If not engineering, then B.Sc. or other Vocational courses. Have you prioritized your life in this way? If not this then that? If we would try to stick to a particular line, perhaps the competition in various entrances would also lessen up. We try to have our hands full all the time, but end up with empty pockets. Of course there are less seats and a vast population and a lot of reservations, but we can’t change that. We have to live under the system. But we need to think out of the box. Something new. Why do we choose B.Sc. if we don’t qualify in professional courses? Is it really that bad? Not at all. It all depends on our dedication and performance. Our mindsets. Everything is okay. We just need to change our thinking perspectives. After all, we are the future of our country.

So guys like me, cheer up. And my juniors, do take my advice seriously. This is our chance to make history. So get, set and go!



There once lived an ugly Martian

With mighty crispy features

It was named Sandy

By its proud makers.

It loved to gorge on Venusian sand

That’s why its name

Tearing through its Sulphurous atmosphere

Earned it some fame.

While passing nearby earth

It decided to stop

It alighted in my garden

Eating all the green crops.

I cried out loud

All neighbors backed out in fear.

It seemed to look at me; I was cheered.

Some yellow drippings on the ground

Smelt like sulphur

It gave a loud belch

With a stinky odor.

The medium sized creature

Perhaps made of tungsten

Underwent a sudden seizure

Perhaps it was greensmitten.

We wanted it to take it to the local hospital

But sadly we couldn’t

For Mars’s average temperature is nearly 200 degrees Celsius.

It was awesomely hot

Creamed to its three blots

One of which looked like a food spot.

Scientists came rushing

To find it gushing……………………………………..water!

They proposed the following equation:

Veggie greens [carbohydrates] +sulphur + tungsten=water???????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Politicians took the matter into their own hands

Spread the voice loud and clear

“The water crisis is over!!!!!!!!!”

Votes cast by people were innumerable

All set into frenzy motion

To take poor Sandy to the lab

To get water

Soon Sandy became the talk of this world

The hit of our educational hubs.

Everyone wanted to meet the great “Aqua donor”.

Thronged its lab with greens of all kinds

Sad for Sandy, who wanted a Sulphur Cake

Got instead a bitter gourd shake.

People thought their problems were over,

India sent to Mars a Space Rover

To know more;

But no surprise, nothing was found, except sand

That unfortunate Sandy did actually want.

It soon suffered from siliconosulphurotungstenaphenesis

Alas! It could not be saved.

The one liter water has been preserved by the lab fellows to understand about Martian life.

The whole world again plunged into deep sorrow.

Water crisis is here to stay,

Along with the sulphur mark in my garden that Sandy made.

Woman Sighted on Mars!!!!!!!

Woman Sighted on Mars!!!!!!!




20th of June 2013 shall always be a red letter day for me of my so called life. Today I was allowed to open my first ever Facebook account; or to be precise, a social networking account.

Since class 10, I had seen my friends put up about their daily mundane lives on Orkut, Twitter, Facebook and Myspace. I was like a dumb. I had none. My parents forbade it. I was not sad, but somewhere deep in my heart it always struck me that I could get more site views on my blog if I had an account on Facebook.

My parents never approved of this. They knew that I was worse than a drug addict. I can sit glued on my laptop monitor for hours, without a single blink. And Facebook is nothing other than addiction. [Sorry if I hurt anyone] but this is true. Even I admit it and I know it is hard to admit this when you are a mere 17 year old ‘kid’.

I had permission to access Gmail, WordPress.com, and other websites where I could post some of my writings so that I could be called as a Content Writer or a Freelance Writer [you can call me an Unwanted writer or whatever]; but never to Facebook. “These sites kill your zeal for studies, provide you fun in the virtual world; keeping you miles away from the real thing, an internet zombie, a whiny kid, you kill your own privacy, time waste and what not.[sorry, no offence]”: mom said right. I got the taste when I sat down thinking it as a treat for my stranded, stagnant living.

I rushed into my mom’s bedroom with great excitement in the air. “Mummy!” I screamed. I need my FB account! Now!”

Mummy had no excitement on her face, though. So in her plain old voice, she told NO.

“Please, you had promised to me that you would allow me to open my account once I finish my Class 12!”

Why I used this cause I don’t seem to understand, because I feel that it was better to study with big headaches of home works, practical and tests rather than that of results, questions on capability, and admissions to good colleges. [I mean, moving into the big league].

“If you don’t allow me then I’ll use your account to create a page to popularize my blog.”

This was the real reason why I was pestering my mom during her afternoon nap. Since June 1, I’ve been an all time blogger [translated, I’ve nothing better to do], and I am trying helplessly to get at least one freelance writing project. Everything starts off smoothly- I send my email id to the person who needs the work to be done, he/she takes my CV- and then does not reply back. They check out my blog as well, but perhaps they don’t think me as much capable to handle out big responsibilities like part time jobs. Or perhaps, I’m a downright stupid. A jump in the site statistics would soon change all that.

So I was inclined towards the all time favorite FB.

Perhaps Mummy’s heart melted. She smiled.

“Go and open your own account.”




I was just going mad. I mean, I have a reputation among the people who know me that I am a great guy. I can never manage Facebook and all that stuff.

I took my seat and in no time filled out the details that FB demanded. It’s free & cool. So what’s wrong in that?

Sonali rang me up the moment I sent her the friend request. Nilofar too added me on her friend list. In one hour itself, I had acquired over 15 friends [I was going on sending friend requests to friends, relatives and seniors; OMG! It’s absolutely amazing! Others recommended me]. FB even warned me: SLOW DOWN! But did that damn know that I had been never so happy in my life?  Many commented on my profile photo and my first post. It read:


With a solace in my heart, I came out of the website, thinking what would be my first step to enhance my blog’s statistics. I went out for a short walk. Just then daddy called me up.

 He asked me to DELETE my FB account.

“You can have a Linkedin profile but not a FB account.”

“But I had taken mummy’s permission!”

“No, no, it’s not good for you. Delete it now. And why have you put your photo? Take it off at once.”

I was not sad. It was okay. He must have said it for my well being. But what was he doing on FB? He couldn’t have seen my mail request as today morning itself he had called up to say that his mails have some problems in the office premises.

Aha! So he was on FB as well!

After much pestering from my uncles and aunts, my mom decided to give FB a chance in her life. But since our internet is very slow and she remains very busy, after a week she stopped checking.

“Bah! Hogwash!” She would say.

I returned home drenched.  2 hours later, I sat down to delete my account. When I opened my page, I had 56 friends!


From 0 to 56 in a day. What a transformation. My eyes misted, my heart felt heavy, and I started crying. I got a big splitting headache. My body was a big ache. I thought I was an eyesore.

I started crying. Nothing could console me now. The thought that I would lose contact again with all the friends like Sambedana, Subhasis and many others with whom I was with till Class 10 and after that we were separated due to change in courses and institutions. My senior Arti didi had loved me a lot. She was my House Leader when I was in Class 6. She was smart, affectionate and cool. She had accepted my friend request too.

I started to miss her too.

Today’s generation solely depends upon FB, only old fashioned guys like me demand an email from the friends every day.  At FB, every thing’s updated frequently. You get lost contacts. You can make your old friend groups again. You can say publicly sorry.

You can also increase your site traffic.

The addiction had hung me up in an hour. Now I really think this FB is not for me……..Daddy’s right. I would not be able to concentrate in my studies………………he knows me better than me……………..I’d go zany again………………….

So this is my first and last appeal to you, my friends. Thank you for your tremendous support. Thanks for being my friends on FB and in real life. I love you all. I shall remember you always, no matter what. You have filled my life with warmth. If you really think I’m worth it, please pen me down a line or two on my blog. I’d be more than elated.

See you next time on my blog’s comment page!

Take care.




Yesterday as I was idling around, I decided to watch TV. A programme called Maharana Pratap is being aired on Sony Entertainment Television nowadays. I love to gorge on history, so I chose to watch it rather than Shinchan or Ninja Hattori.

So, some fast facts on the Maharana:

Maharana Pratap Singh
The Ruler of Mewar
RajaRaviVarma MaharanaPratap.jpg
Reign 1568–1597
Born May 9, 1540
Birthplace Kumbhalgarh Fort, Rajasthan, India
Died January 19, 1597 (age 57)
Predecessor Udai Singh II
Successor Amar Singh[1]
Consort Maharani Ajbade Punwar[2]
Issue Amar Singh
Bhagwan Das
Royal House Sisodia, Suryavanshi Rajput Raja of Mewar
Father Maharana Udai Singh II
Mother Maharani Jaivantabai[2]
Religious beliefs Hinduism

My concern is not for this great patriot of  India who fought endlessly  to keep India away from Mughal Empire and had fought in the Battle of Haldighati.But what has kept torturing me since yesterday is this:

Can you see the flames in the picture? This is a traditional jauhar ritual going on. This potrait refers to the First Jauhar of Chittor conducted when Allaudin Khilji attacked Mewar.

Jauhar  refers to the ancient Indian Rajput Hindu tradition of honorary self-immolation of women and subsequent march of men to the battlefield (against any odds) to end their life with respect. It was followed by the Rajput clans in order to avoid capture and dishonour at the hands of muslim invaders.

Jauhar (also spelled jowhar) was originally the voluntary death on a funeral of the queens and female royals of Rajput kingdoms defeated by Muslim rulers. The term is extended to describe the occasional practice of mass suicide carried out in medieval times by Rajput women and men. Mass self-immolation by women was called jauhar. This was usually done before or at the same time their husbands, brothers, fathers and sons rode out in a charge to meet their attackers and certain death.

After reading the meanings of all these, I was literally shocked. For the fear of defeat, the Rajput women chose death rather than being taken in chains by the Muslim invaders, mainly refering to the Mughal Empire. But why?

Mummy explained: “After being caught by the Mughals, the Rajputs would have been tortured severely. Men would have been killed, either during the war or after being captured, while women and children were molested and children too, killed. In this way the Mughals could instill fear in the people of their new kingdom. Then only the people will be subordinate to the king.”

Now I understood. To save their honor, the women decided to kill themselves rather than fall prey in the hands of the lust locked enemy. Really, its a feat, a great achievement as there was no other body at that time which could save these brave ladies. I salute them.

My eyes were filled with tears by the time I read the whole article in Wikipedia.

Here’s my summary of the results of the wars in 16th Century India: a MURDER system

Mass killings through war
Rape and molest
Enhance power
Radiate to new kingdoms

And so, it went on…………………and continues to exist till today. Surprised? No surprise. Till recently, the practice of sati[ forcibly putting the widow on the pyre of her husband] was going on in our so called Independent India. Fortunately, with the help of common people, social activists and the Indian Government, this shit has come to a shutdown.

But the story of molestation never ends.

There has been a sharp fall in the number of foreign tourists. India is not a safe place for women. Infact, it is getting on at par with Islamic countries where most of the basic rights for women are denied. Everyday in the newspapers we read about girls being molested and killed.  We also hear about prostitution, child trafficking, and what not. All of us are equally responsible. True, we are speeding like anything on the path of education and technological development, only to simply cancel it out in this negative direction though this shameless acts. Wolves are everywhere; at the marketplace, work place and amongst our near and dear ones. They keep on terrorising us. My parents never leave me alone outside. They know what type of kid I am: A foolish and stupid kid who understands nothing about this world, this cruel and wicked society. Whenever I go out alone to the neighborhood market, guys do stare at me. Some give a slight chase and then give their best smiles and speed away on their bikes. I am not beautiful. Then why me???????

We readily come up to light candles when anyone has passed away due to such henious act, but never have the courage to wipe out those goons completely. We never mind things until and unless they happen to us. This modernisation has deprived us of selflessness and humanity. Movies affect a lot of youngsters to try out these blasted things but the movie makers don’t attempt to stop these. They just check out the box office, that’s all.

In an article I had read that the attitude of paedophiles makes us remember about the ancient Homo sapiens. This behaviour is considered to be very primitive as it was related to increase the population of the species. Now the situation doesnot demand that. Then why are men showing up such peculiar behaviour?

Part of a series on
against women

Maybe Science has the answer. Or History. I just have no idea. The possibilities are endless. Everything is related in this world. I connected jauhar with molestation and learnt so much. Next day someone might connect it with another item with solid evidence.

I promise I won’t call TV an idiot box anymore.


Courtesy: Wikipedia


It just seems as if it happened yesterday. For the cacophony to shake off my head, I think it’s going to take a long time……………………………………………………

…………………………………………………….Well, here I go.

The auditory nerves almost blasted with the racket that was going on outside. They said, they were catching a monkey. I was startled. “What on earth for?” I asked. “That monkey has bitten over 50 people in the neighborhood. The news was so rapidly hot that it made its way to the local newspapers,” Mum replied. And then shot back. “So no monkeying around’’.

She was right. The monkey was a menace. It bit nearly in front of my eyes a poor laborer, about 18 years old on his wrist. He bled profusely. I believe it loved to target college students. Nearly half of his trauma bearers were college going hostel dwellers. It had attacked 3 girls, all of whose names were published in the newspapers.

By my natural instincts, to tell you the truth, I am worse than a monkey. But during those days my endless seeming entrance examinations were going on, pretty much important to me like what is the Sea of Tranquility to our lonesome moon. So I was not going to fool around. But you should have checked on the residents. The boys were on their bikes with long bamboo sticks, shouting and screeching back at the sole monkey, who was perhaps a mad one. In the hot sun, they all were in the hot pursuit of our poor ancestor, who seemed to have lost his mind. The people out there were plotting to catch and kill him.

I was furious. “Why can’t they just tranquillize it and send it to a forest?” I asked many times. Having attacked so many, it was not so easy for our dear monkey fellow to sleuth back to the forest easily. The problem here was that the forest officials did not pay any heed to the people’s woes; and so the daring boys instead of catching the monkey stopped the forest officials for nearly 3 hours. Finally, the job was done. After 4 days of pursuit, the monkey was caught and sent to a nearby forest. Ah, peace at last. Now again I could settle down to study.

Let me rewind a bit back. I’ve titled this post as the melody of noise, isn’t it? So the noisy part is over. Now comes the “melodious” part.

During my board exams in March, I was surprised to find a couple in my colony vibrantly attracted to music. They had music CDs of all latest Hindi songs, and their day began with prayers from a FM radio. So devoted, you must be thinking. But they seemed to make us more fanatics about these recorded voices. The maximum volume would be set after that, all ready to bang our ear drums with the tunes flowing in and all my physics lessons flowing out. I am the poorest of all the people living here. I stay just next door. And it is almost impossible to cut the sounds even if you close all your doors and windows. The screamers, I name them. While talking on the phone too, they shout on the top of their voices.

Finally, I could no more tolerate it and then the next day I complained. “Aunty”, I pleaded, “please slow down your music. My exams are on.” She dutifully switched off the noise box. The very next day, her male counterpart began the tantrums again. “Switch it off, for God’s sake”, I shouted back. This time I feel he got embarrassed, as a few neighbors sniggered in front of him. I was glad.

Thank God for neighbors.




Getting back to writing and blogging through this post has sprang me back to action. So, hello everyone who has got a bit time to dash through this post. I’d like to say that I missed all of you and now I’d like to write more often[I’m yearning for comments!]

Earlier, I had made a big list of funky things which had happened with me and had decided to write on them. But yesterday, all my feeble attempts got wasted on my long face. I couldnot write anything at all. I felt useless.

Today morning too, I was uncertain whether I could blog or not. I was thinking to abandon the blog. Just then I remembered about a sweetheart due to whom I was blogging at the first place.  Guess who???????

   Under the Umbrella

Of course, the answer is RESONNER, my eldest sis, the charming, elegant, studious, sincere……………………………………………………..Well, I can go on.

So I thought, why not chalk out some amazing and credulous features of our dearest Resonner???

Our all time favorite Resonner, or Pamela was a bright kid downright from her childhood. She was always busy with her studies. Whenever I visit her house, I never get bored of the charisma she has bore in the house. Her paintings adore all the walls and doors. Her dolls, nearly as old as herself have been kept neatly, clothed with hand  stitched dresses by her mom. Her bookshelf is a myriad of volumes of story books, encyclopaedias and what not. The number of prizes and medals she has won has always kept me dumbstruck. Be it in academics, elocution, dance, music or drama, she had her talent everywhere. Her hands were always full of praises. An all rounder, a superstar in herself.

A born genius, she secured 92% in her Class 10th CBSE Board exams and above 85% in her Class 12th CBSE Boards. She moved to Bhubaneswar with a bag filled with clothes and books when she had just cleared her +2 exams. You can imagine how young she was. Staying at a relative’s place, she emerged victorious among those thousands of students who had appeared in the Joint Entrance Examinations. She secured a brilliant rank and got admitted to College of Engineering and Technology, one of the best government colleges of my home state. While students fail to achieve this feat even after studing 2 years at a coaching centre, she managed to crack the exam with ease with just one month crash course.

After completing her B.Tech in Computer Science, she got her first campus placement at Infosys. She underwent rigorous training for 1 year at Mysore. Afterwards, she decided to join CSIR, one of the booming research sectors of the country as a fellow scientist. Staying all alone at Delhi, coping up with its traffic, hustle bustle and weather must have been so horrific for my Nani. Extremities are faced by the Delhi people. They are roasted in the sweltering summer months and chilled during winter season- a classic case resembling the competency of a plant cell to take up foreign DNA. From getting up early to retiring late at night, she managed to test her culinary skills at her apartment without a community dustbin. Poor guy, she prepared her own food without any formal training. She managed to survive in this world which follows “Survival of the fittest.” But one thing which she likes about Delhi is that it made her independent. And not to forget all the shopping, of course. It is necessary for a person to struggle atleast once in a lifetime to achieve the ultimate success in life, she says.

She proved her quote 3 years ago when she took the daredevil decision of quitting her job and decided to prepare for Indian Administrative Service Exam. She was not unhappy of the fact that her precious years will get wasted lest she couldnot qualify the examination. But all she thought of seving her country. It is a proud feeling, she says. I understand her. Returning back to studies after so many years is not a joke. I just imagine at her competency to grasp at studies. The entrance exam is one of its own kind, being the toughest in the country. She was determined to crack it. She had to say goodbye to her salary[oh my] and started studying sincerely, again. To save money, she wouldn’t mind to walk in the hot sun instead of taking a rick and filled her water bottle from a water cooler rather than buying another bottle. All for a few rupees.

The first year she appeared, she was suddenly taken very ill. Her mom went to her to help her out, but in vain. Though she could clear the prelims, she couldnot make it to the mains, by just missing the cutoff for a few marks.

Others would have been disheartened. But she didn’t. She put all her soul once again into her studies. This time she cleared both the prelims and mains but could not clear the viva. This is indeed a great achievement as students usually clear this prestigious exam in the third or fourth attempts, and she was just a few steps ahead of her goal in the second year itself! What a feat, I wonder. Hats off to her.

   Rocky nani and Nupur Nani

Last year, she took another toughest decision of her life. She decided to tie the wedding knot. And she did. Though her achievements are always reaching the sky, her feet is held firm to the ground. She married Deepankar bhaiya, a doctor on 8th of December, 2012. The wedding was truly grand in all ways. The reception, the food………………………………and oh, not to mention about my cute friends ,sisters and aunties who attended the marriage ceremony. They just looked fab!!!!!!!!! Rocky nani, as I call her, looked fantastic, as always.I had dressed up first time so lavishly. After all, it was my dearest Resonner’s wedding!

14687_3604957340846_412418210_n          Me, Rocky Nani and Nishi

Currently, she is doing Post graduate courses in Sociology and related studies. Apart from all the qualities that I have mentioned above, Rocky nani is a great blogger[you all know that better than me], loves gardening, listening to music, and likes to spend time with us and her books. The mighty transitions she has made in her life has always made her much stronger. She has no time for worries. All she does is hardwork, hardwork and hardwork.

I love you, my dearest Resonner and I wish I could be like you!!!!!!!!!! This is my gift for you……..hope you like it.

P.S. BREAKING NEWS: Mrs Pamela Satpathy has cleared the UPSC examinations in her 4th attempt with AIR 51! Way to go nani! You are a true inspiration for the millions of Indian students! You have shown that nothing is impossible! Woohoo!!! She has already joined LBSNAA and her alloted cadre is the newly formed state of Telengana.









2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 2,500 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 4 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.



I came across a turn one day,

The day I came to my new house.

A deserted road, seemed to await me

Meanwhile, the sky had turned gray;

I was humming a tune, cycling,

In the midst of houses with lush green gardens

All alone….with the wind

I burst in a fury of speed

And raced along that road.

A small graveyard, with 3 white painted structures,

Stood under the sky

Their masters, resting in eternal peace.

How I felt jealous of them!

Far away from the dramatic circumstances of this world,

They lay peacefully in the lap of mother earth.

I just went back and forgot about them.

Years later when the whole neighborhood proclaimed

The death of 2 residents within 7 days,

I was shocked.

My mind raced back to that old memory

Of the graveyard.

Next time when I went cycling,

I stopped by and started chatting.

“My friends, someday I’ll join you,

May be not here, but somewhere else

In the land of afterlife

If there was any.

Today I want to ask you, Oh God!

Why did you had to steal a mother from 3 kids,

And a father from the hopes of a 1 year child?

Didn’t you get any one better?

Your thoughts are so bitter, O Lord.

You shattered lives.

You created them.

What’s the fun then?

I know your rules, I’ve to stick to them,

But please, not with the help of these dirty games.

I shriek out to you, dearest graveyard,

I’ve nothing to say at all.

Your silence silences me.’’


School. Now I have begun to hate my school. Really.

In short, I’ve come to hate myself.

Despite of all my hardwork, everything has gone wrong  and now I think that during the whole academic session I’ve been wasting jokes on long faces.

On my long face.

Education has got to serve its purpose; and I really don’t find any sense that why should I be learning something when I really understand nothing of it. According to Einstein, facts can be always looked for in books, but what matters mostly are ideas. Frankly speaking, I dare to say that this does not happen over here. All we know here is to learn like a book worm and reproduce it in exams. And whoa, exams. So many types of exams. Monday tests, practice tests, Term end tests, entrance based examinations and much more. Today I want to ask to one and all who by mistakenly ever passed by my site: Is today’s education limited to these only?

And then the CBSE would uproar: We have introduced CCE[comprehensive and continuous evaluation] for our students which take care for their overall holistic development.

My mom still remembers the day when our school’s Headmaster sir had called all the parents of our class for explaining about CCE. No one understood anything, neither the parents and their kids, nor my teachers. The orders had come from the centre. No one could terminate it. I was in Class 9 then. From 22nd March, I’d be in class 12.  Many things have changed. Many lives have changed. Some have changed their lives by increasing their grades, some have lost interest in studies and run after co- curricular activities and the teachers have a tough time writing our long report cards.

All this in the name of education.

It’s not only my story, but it is the story of millions of those kids who are fighting in India to be something in life.

India has come a long way since independence. Many things have changed. The system and way of imparting education has also changed. This current CCE is a great help for the development of poor and average students, but for how long? After class 10 they come to know the heat of education, as I am facing now. All the constructive inferences seem to be destroying me now. So much that I had to think what to write about in my blog. I cannot write a poem now. I’ve gone blank. I know that I’ll qualify in the entrance examinations; there is no substitute to hardwork. This is Indian system of education, I can’t really change it. Maybe it’s not that bad. Maybe they are right and I’m wrong. Maybe. There are so many causes, with overflowing consequences.

I don’t know about me but all these are occuring to me because I love to write more than anything. I love to share ideas. This is my idea of spreading education. Till today in most of the competitions the judges see the creativity of the projects in our schools, not the idea and research behind it. What to say. There’s lot more, but for now I can’t write anymore. More next time.


………Do you know why? Because some scientists are bold enough to say no to his THEORY OF RELATIVITY!!!!!

The latest news and the happiest one too, for me is the discovery of the Neutrino’s speed to be faster than light!!!!!!


Here’s an article I got in internet:

Recently, a group of physicists have been working to measure the neutrinos generated from a particle accelerator at CERN. This group discovered neutrinos arriving faster than would have been expected and they appear to be traveling faster than the speed of light itself, but they draw no definitive conclusions. This has been widely reported as being the end of Relativity, but this is not the case at all. Let’s take a look at what is going on in the experiment and what was reported in the journal article.

First, it might help the reader to gain an understanding of the neutrino. Neutrinos are interesting little neutral particles that have almost zero mass. Due to their nature, they can pass through matter without being absorbed. There are three known types of neutrinos: the electron neutrino, the muon neutrino, and the tau neutrino. The experiment in the journal article is referred to as CERN neutrinos to Gran Sasso, or CNGS. The CNGS team is searching for a phenomenon known as neutrino oscillation where muon neutrinos may change into tau neutrinos. A secondary goal of the experiment is to measure neutrino velocity to a great accuracy.

In the experiment, neutrinos are generated at the Super Proton Synchrotron (SPS) particle accelerator at the CERN LHC complex in Geneva and further accelerated down a 1 km beam line toward the Gran Sasso National Laboratory in Italy. At Gran Sasso, a detector instrument called OPERA measures the neutrinos. The distance from CERN to Gran Sasso is 732 km straight through the Earth, traveling up to 11.4 km below the Earth’s surface. Remember, neutrinos don’t interact with matter so the Earth is invisible to the tiny particles.

The distance between the two systems is known to within 20 cm. Time is also measured with extreme precision utilizing GPS timing signals and a cesium atomic clock. The GPS used in timing also allows the team to track any small movements in the Earth itself. This even allowed consideration of the effect of the L’Aquila Earthquake that moved the OPERA detector 7 cm. Due to the nature of the experiment, the time is not calculated with a simple, stopwatch style, start to finish measurement. It instead relies on measurements and comparisons of probability distribution functions at the source and the detector. In other words, there is a lot of math involved. In addition to understanding the timing and position variations in the experiment, the physicists also took into account many other variables, such as day versus night and seasonal changes. The sensitivity of this experiment is roughly an order of magnitude better than previous experiments.

The speed of neutrinos is measured and compared to the speed of light by subtracting the expected time for light to travel the distance from the time for the neutrinos to travel the same distance. One would normally expect this to be zero for neutrinos traveling at the speed of light or negative for any value below the speed of light. The case presented in the article shows a positive value of 60.7 nanoseconds with statistical and systematic errors providing not nearly enough potential difference to account for the positive value. This value has six-sigma significance. This is, obviously, a stunning finding.

The final paragraph is what appears to be overlooked all too often in the reporting on this finding:

Despite the large significance of the measurement reported here and the stability of the analysis, the potential great impact of the results motivates the continuation of our studies in order to investigate possible still unknown systematic effects that could explain the observed anomaly. We deliberately do not attempt any theoretical or phenomenological interpretation of the results.

This is an important paragraph. This is the group of physicists, together, stating that they don’t know how they came to a result that shows neutrinos apparently exceeding the speed of light. They are not drawing any conclusions in this article and are simply providing the finding and the methods used to obtain the finding. They are trying to find where there could be errors in their measurements. They do not claim that the neutrinos are actually exceeding the speed of light, only that the measurements to date show something unexpected. They are reaching out to the high-energy physics community to improve the experiment and data analysis. They are not looking to fundamentally change physics but to ensure that they are producing sound data. We may find that nothing comes of this. We may find that there is an effect known in physics that accounts for the difference. We may find that neutrinos are capable of moving slightly faster than the speed of light. It is simply too early to make definitive, wide-reaching conclusions.

The conclusion that can be drawn from this article is that a group of experimenters found an unexpected result using some of the most amazing and precise instruments and techniques ever created. No matter what is found to be the actual cause of this 60.7 nanosecond variation, the conclusion you can draw is that it is an amazing time in history where such measurements can be made and an exciting time to be a practitioner or admirer of science. Imagine the findings that will be made by the next couple generations of scientists who are sitting in elementary classrooms right now and just learning that a rainbow is the spectrum of sunlight. Einstein wouldn’t be disappointed by these findings; he would be intrigued and proud to see the legacy of great science continuing forward.

 When I stared at the newspaper, I was like so happy that I shouted the news to my sis and mom, who weren’t bothered much. After all, one has completed her studies and another is totally unknown about the greatness of this incident.

Everyone is now wondering about this………but I’m wondering why anyone’s not interested to know the speed of neutrino. I’m also not getting the value. But whatever maybe, this subatomic particle of zero mass has astonished everyone. Just compare its speed with a 70 kg man whose average speed is 10m/sec. Humans have a long way to go ahead……………… So now time travelling might be possible, may be we can prove the existence of some special tunnels in space through which we can move to one part of the universe to another without any change in age for us………and I’m not talking about any science fiction. We are really heading towards our destiny. I’m very proud to announce that I want to become a space scientist when I grow up!

[No, not like that!]:p


From many days I was searching it, in school, at home and in my coaching class. I wasn’t getting it.. I was getting mad! From where could I get it? Where was it? It had to be somewhere.


I got it finally. But it is incomplete, torn and dusty. I bother to look at it, but still feel to hide it somewhere again, away from the eyes of curious bystanders. No, it’s not my Practical notebook.


It’s my SMILE.


From the day I’ve entered Class 11 I’ve been feeling that something’s terribly wrong with me. So much that I’ve been calling myself NERVOUS BREAKDOWN PERSON IN A MENTAL ASYLUM lately. Surely I’m not that mad! I should have been happy by seeing my old classmates, but rather I’m feeling cold and rusted from within. I want to break the chains and run away, to a dark, dark place, where no one can ever find me. ‘Remaining in solace is the best way’, I felt.


But that was not the solution. I remained in dire silence. My silence at first silenced me, but that was not the question. Everyday some incident or the other happens with me, but still I don’t get used to it. I’m just like a small herb. With one blow, my work is done. I was constantly getting mad at my friends in the first weeks of my classes, but not now. I’ve learnt to respect everyone’s voices, though they maynot even care to look at me. I’ve learnt to help everyone, as I’ve always done, though they may not have one moment of their lives to think about me. Well, who bothers about me?


Here I always forget the perfect answer……….my family. They are always present for me. I may be troublesome, but they love me. That’s what one needs actually.


Again the question comes………why then I’m not able to remain happy?


And then I got the answer just yesterday………..Here it goes…….


I was searching for a bit of peace and sanctity all these days. I exactly don’t know what they mean, but they must be meaning something meaningful and so I thought that their absence was the cause of my sorrow. There’s a lot of trouble at home and my Half yearly exams are ahead. Guess my situation??????


In a whole crowd of people you still feel awkward and lonely if you miss the person you want to be with. Same here. Every time I miss some one or the other and go on thinking and analysing how my life could have been……if all my friends hadn’t reacted to me in this way, this and that: in short, DAYDREAMING.  That’s the only thing that gives me happiness, and I smile and laugh like a hyena when my mother smiles and my sister sings and dances with me. I’ve lost my School Captain tie, and I’m feeling powerless without it. I’ve got rotten with lots of mental deformities like inferiority complex and stark depression. I don’t know what to do. Counsellings seem to have no effect on me.


So I’ve let you know about me……and I hope none of you are facing troubles like me. Please say me the real path of happiness and success.


Bye, I’ve to go……..I’ve to search it again………….


I’ve tried to write a ballad: a poem of 14 lines. Hope you enjoy my poem!

The world is so stark, yet bright

For tormentors it seems all right.

Blood sucking perils of this dastardly globe

Succeed through the ongoing slope.

My stark, bleak future and nostalgia of today………

But still there’s no one to bother

In this evil, yet; good, cold and old Universe

Maybe worse things with me might go reverse.

My reality: I’m alive

With a hope that I just might be the right person for others to strive.

But why is it that I’m always left alone?

Won’t anyone shed a tear for me when I’m gone?

That’s it, damn on me, I was born

But I’m getting adjusted……and have  new things to learn.


15th August, the red letter day

Another one has just passed away

The date in 2011 will never be heard of again,

Like the values of veggies in my today’s market bargain.

Independence, democracy…………what do we think about these?

Nothing but topics to be melted with breads along cheese.

Till today we are afraid for night outs

When I’m away from house my mother has so many doubts.

Afraid, to think I might be alone

Or might be just……….gone.

Why am I dependent till today?

Is it my fault, or of my countrymen?

Oh, this transitory world is so cruel

They can use me up as a fuel.

No food, no water, no electricity,

Is this the right to live?

The right to justice? The right to equality?

Just having the right to vote.

And the right to rot……….

Here, in this very soil of my country

Though the resources are in bounty

There are some things that can’t be done

And foreigners have the guts to call us:

Damned Indians!!!!!!!!!!!

Is this the so called Independence?

We’re still dependent on someone…….

For fuel, for money,for respect………

And for ourselves………..

I hate this!

I want to be independent!

Let’s spread this to all the Indians……..let them be proud of their motherland………and deserve the respect they desire!

Vande mataram!!!!!!!



My best friends,

So cute, so sweet

We know each other

Without exchanging tweets.

There for me in every direction

Persons of action

Scolding me with their anger

And understanding me when I’m in tears.

Opportunity never knocks the door twice

And with friends who’re so nice

I’m not wasting my time anymore

To prove myself with an uproar.

I’m a bit depressed

Everytime I’m supressed

But with a best friend like you,

All my fears turn blue!

And I always know that you’ll hold my arms,

Turning my life into a delicate charm.

You’re the best, I feel

I’m waiting for you and praying to heal………..

My dear best friends!

I follow their set-off trends!!!!!!!!!


The day was fine and was full of uncertainities

The day I met you

I had picked up a little fight

But we had settled the matter all right.

Friends at first sight

Yeah, we fight

But we get on tight

Because we are the best pals!

Everyday our bond gets stronger

We tend to talk longer

You help me and I help you

To get out of our hot brainy stews.

It was just the other day I had talked to you about me

I had cried and you had consoled me.

No one had understood me as you had

Maybe, you’re not that bad!

When I held you hand I lost fear

Tears disappointed and happiness was near……

Maybe just a fortnight has passed

My brows and sorrows are completely crashed.

I sing songs of jollym

You again showed me the path of fun and folly.

Thank you friend, for all your deeds

I’ll try to fulfill all your needs.

Now I don’t have any bother

As we’ll be

Friends forever…………….


Since the day you left me

I’m in total darkness

There’s so much fun outside

But I’m still within.

I’m waiting for you to come back,

And make me your friend again

Cherishing those old memories

In broad daylight.

Yes, I’ve hope

I do have some hope

Though I’ve been shattered

And bartered.

Why don’t you realize my pain

My thoughts and agony?

Am I the one who’s inferior?

Am I the one who’s going to help others but not myself?

You’re back in my life again,

I hear of you, and cry for you.

Yet you won’t come back.

I’m sick of thinking about you the whole day.

Have you ever thought of me?

How much do I cry and wait for you?

With so much hope, I was with you

And planned to be friends all along

But I did seldom knew

Your brainy curfew

I was trapped, now I’m out

Though I’m still in.

Your name and face mesmerises me

I made myself proud because of you.

Dear friend, do come back,

Please come back,

Since the day you left me

I’m in total darkness.

I worked for your benefits all the time

Why is it that no one is a special friend of mine?

Is it because I’ve no outward shine?

Time has left its marks on me

From head to toe and face to knee

I’m unable to go out

There’s so much fun outside

But I’m still within.

I was bartered, yes for your selfishness

I mind it, yet ignore it.

Now I’m in doubt,

I can’t trust anyone

One scolds me for my foolishness

Another laughs on my childishness…….

Once I had a dear friend

Who was like me.

I wonder where he’s lost

Or has gone too far to be seen.



Yesterday I had a frantic scream: by seeing the movie titled: The Ring. The name seems fine until you reach the depths of it. I was just randomly going through the channels when my eyes suddenly glanced at a lady. She must be in her mid 30’s, and her name was Rachel[in the movie]. She was beautiful, so I sat to watch that movie. I seldom knew that what was going to happen next.

Yesterday was a normal day, like all days. I was alone at home. So to kill boredom, I sat watching TV. The moment I saw that movie, I somehow got an inclination to see it. Curiosity kills the cat, they say, but actually it nearly killed me!!!! By the time I watched it, it had already half finished.

The story goes on like this: The Morgans lived on an island. They always tried to have a child, but they couldn’t. Especially Anna Morgan. She had more than 60 miscarriages but she simply won’t stop! Finally, they adopted a child called Samara. I don’t know actually what was her problem, but she never slept. She could never sleep because Mr Morgan made her sleep with the horses in the barn. And whatever image came to her mind was transferred on the paper directly without pencils or crayons. Creepy. She was admitted in a hospital but nothing seemed to cure her.   Finally, in a fit of rage, she killed Samara and threw her into a well in a lonely place. The well was dark, and when Samara regained consciousness, she was inside it. She survived only seven days inside, and died.

Here comes the real twist…..somehow the ghost of poor[I’m saying poor because she had been murdered] Samara has caught up with Rachel’s son, Aiden. He must be 10 years old. He wcribbling madly as Samara used to think and most of the time, his nose bled and he had marks on his hands. Now it’s time for Rachel to save her son. She gets to know the story by a doctor, who lives on the same island. Clue by clue, art by art, she gathers her mind and her son’s paintings to reveal the real  truth. She gets to know everything and somehow manages to give Samara a decent burial along with her friend. She returns home happily. But all’s not well. When Aidan listens about Samara, he explains: ”Don’t you understand Rachel? She never sleeps.” Then his nose bleeds again. At the same time, Rachel’s friend finds horror. The TV set automatically starts and Samara comes out of the well, and then into the room. She was wearing a white gown and her long hairs covered her face, and then she raises her head. She’s covered with fungus. Then………………………………………..

…………….A blackout! I was scared! Horror films really bite off my head! But I had sympathies too. How come Anna kill Samara? She did everything for that child, and yet……….

Whatever may be, I was really astonished and scared by what I saw. Just then the phone rang. It was my friend Sonali! No wonder my hands were shaking when I answered her. I couldn’t forget thinking about that movie which made me so afraid that I’m only getting it’s images in my mind! I prayed to God to give me strength………

Wonder why the movie is called The Ring…..Hollywood films are damn scary, dude!


Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all? Not me, of course!:]

Today I was really standing confused infront of the mirror. I was looking at my face, searching for any little sign of whiteness. But alas, I found none. I felt powerless. I’ve been using a whitening cream that promises fairness in just a week; it has already been a week but Oh my God! I’m looking the same!!!!!! I’m also using a facewash that removes oil and dirt from my face. Luckily that’s working.

I got a chance to think about my face today morning, when the electricity got cut off once again. I was profusely sweating. So I had a nice bath and afterwards, I put on that cream on my face. But my face started sweating once again! It’s meant to protect my skin from sun, but how do they manage to say all these glorious lies, I seldom know. Media, I suppose, is a bit liar.

Well, I can’t prove them wrong, either. But the thing of matter is that, how did I ever got persuaded by mom to use all these silly things? Yuck! Actually I hate them. Lots of make ups and fashionable clothes: Do I want to look like a filthy rockstar???? Oh no, not at all!!! I see so many advertisements which cry out: Fairness in a week, or Youthful looking skin in just 2 weeks……….Damn them. Customers get confused which one to buy. And almost their prices and packets are same. Then why the mess???? Powders and oils and lotions during winter are mandatory. I don’t know how people handle so many things on their face. Doesn’t it feel heavy for them? After all, isn’t there enough weight to handle in this world? Whom are they trying to fool by saying that they can make ladies look 5 years younger? Not me atleast. The cream I use is Rs 150 for 10 gms[Bad investment, huh?]. And tey can range upto 3000/- here[I don’t know about other countries].

I want to leave using them ,but I can’t. I want to look fairer. I’m hearing those damned lies. Yes, I’m fooling myself. But what I can do? I THINK I’M GETTING A BIT GIRLY! GUYS, SAVE ME!!!!!!!!!!