Wednesday, December 26, 2007
I want to teach them to run, when there isn’t any race.
I want to teach my children that wars are fought in the mind, soldiers die on the battlefield.
I want to teach them that home is a place where no one fights.
I want to teach my children to be special, when all about them will want to generalize.
I want to teach my children to learn to talk if they want to even when no one’s listening.
I want to teach them that sometimes, to be heard, you really don’t need to talk.
I want to teach my children to dream.
I want to teach them to care, about themselves, about others.
I want to teach them to love animals, to fall in love with nature, because there isn’t a greater joy.
I want to teach them to dance.
I want to teach my children to stop when they want, and only when they want.
I want to teach them that it’s okay to cry.
I want to teach my children to be children.
I want to teach them to hear everyone out, and listen to themselves carefully.
I want to teach my children to love people before they judge them.
I want to teach my children that they need to be loved for what they are, and know that sometimes, they are loved in spite of what they are.
I want to teach them to laugh, a laughter rising from the pit of the stomach, gurgling its way up, and splashing happiness all about when it finally erupts.
I want to teach them to create their own music.
I want to teach my children that it will be better than this.
I want to teach my children to decide what they really want to learn from all that I want to teach them.
Monday, December 17, 2007
I smoke because I think I have a lot of problems in life. More than anyone could possibly imagine. I have boyfriend/ girlfriend problems, problems at work/ college, problems with my family and I somehow have convinced myself that with every puff I take, these problems are vanishing. Each cigarette is a miracle of nature with the divine power to reduce the problems of the one who smokes it.
I smoke because I think it is extremely stylish to do so. I consider it a fashion statement to be holding a ciggie in one hand and going about my work with the other (pretty much functioning with just one hand). I know it makes me look good today even if a few years down the line I will have rotting teeth, burnt lips, darkening skin and rough hands. Why should I care if I am looking so good today?
I smoke because everyone seems to be doing it. If I don’t do it then I am left out. I feel inadequate about myself and feel that I must be a part of the group. Yet I make every attempt in every other field of life to "stand out".
I smoke because I am extremely healthy today but possibly don't want to live very long. I do not mind spending the last few years of my life with lung cancer, mouth cancer, throat cancer, emphysema and other ghastly diseases because I might not contract them after all. So why not just take a chance with my life? I really don’t need to live for very long and experience what life possibly has in store for me.
I smoke because, well even if I did care about death, nobody cares about me. I don’t have friends or a family and nobody will cry when I die. I am a complete non-entity in the world and not one other soul knows of my existence. So it will not make a difference.
I smoke because even if it is ruining the environment, I will not live to see its impact. I conveniently choose to forget that my children and their children will have to live in this world long after I am gone. And anyway, who cares about the future of the planet and all that jazz? I’m sure that there will be someone to look into the problem. The government maybe!
I smoke because I cannot possibly find a reason not to. I can’t remember why or when I started but I really can’t find a reason to stop now. Maybe the damage is already done. So now what’s the point?
Which is why I smoke.
If you've read this article, and still haven’t understood that each and every one of these reasons is a bogus, then you have the I.Q. of a jellyfish. I myself have failed to find a single logical reason for people to smoke.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
When after 3 months of lazy, boring std.XII vacations, you suddenly feel overwhelmed at the piles of projects and assignments in your room, you are in Wilson College, BMM.
When the only correct way to pronounce the name of the country is “eeendiyuh”, you are in Wilson College, BMM
When you start imagining professors as weapons of mass (life-) destruction who cease to exist as normal people outside the college gates, you are in Wilson College, BMM.
When you start talking in abbreviations like SSR, ECS, FMC, etc. making your parents think you work for a secret agency, you are in Wilson College, BMM.
When you social life is restricted to the 60-odd people you see in college and you are presumed dead (due to mysterious circumstances) by most other friends, you are in Wilson College, BMM.
When time flies before a project submission but slows down to an incredible degree during lectures, you are in Wilson College, BMM.
When you are expected to juggle college work, project work, homework, along with a couple of college fests thrown in, you are in Wilson College, BMM.
When the only thing you pray for is 10-12 hours more a day, you are in Wilson College, BMM.
When the college library, BCL & Sulieman Chambers replace your usual haunts (Barista, CCD, Mocha), you are in Wilson College, BMM.
When you become overly critical and analytical of everything spoken or written by anyone and begin to analyze the language skills between 8 and 80 years, you are in Wilson College, BMM.
When the dictionary is your favourite book and the internet is collectively despised by all professors, you are in Wilson College, BMM.
When everyone pretends that Saturday is a holiday but no one really stays at home (even Sundays Working!), you are in Wilson College, BMM.
When triple lectures are common and single ones are a rare luxury limited to the beginning of the semester, you are in Wilson College, BMM.
When the filth and sand on chowpatty seems far more inviting than the benches in class and you are more willing to be struck by lightening on the beach than be in class and do presentations, you are in Wilson College, BMM.
When you know the friends you make here will stick by you for the rest of your life…or at least the next 3 years (minimum), whether you like it or not, you are in Wilson College, BMM.
When you pick up sudhuisms which you won’t forget for the rest of your life, you are in Wilson College, BMM.
When, in spite of all this, in some corner of your heart, you know that if (and only if) you survive all this, you will be the best in whatever you choose to do, ranging from scuba diving to holding the Prime Minister’s office, you are in Wilson College, BMM.