Rang De, Basanti?!

-Faltoo paisa lag gaya; yeh picture wale jo hai, aaj kal cheat kar rahe hai.

-Kyun?

-Picture dikhne gaye, Rang De Basanti, teen ghanta baithe rahe, Basanti aayi nahi!!!

BOYCS vs SHERRY

the rivalry....have a look...

indian fielding..

who says we can't field well...have a look...

Kingdom: 20 x 44

Picture a 20 x 44 yard rectangle. Two parallel lines one meter and four and a half inches inside the twenty yards. Got it? That’s a badminton court, my kingdom. I rule it when I am there.

Badminton courts vary from size to size, but the one which will be forever imprinted in my mind is located in United World College (UWC), Singapore.

The first memory of badminton goes a long way back in my childhood. The only image that I recall is the way I used to bore Bhai by making him play with me; a school pro playing with someone who wasn’t familiar with serving properly. After everyone was gone, I would stay back and serve from the end line of one court to the other side. I had to learn how to serve well, after all, that’s the only way to earn a point.

Days, weeks, and months flew by as I learned how to master a badminton serve. Hold the shuttle lightly in your hand; just let it sit there. Then scoop the racket from the back of your head over your right shoulder and make sure the shuttle makes contact with the middle of the racket. But the main trick is in the power; you have to get all the power from your legs.

Finally after a few months of blood and sweat, I started to play well. My school, Ruamrudee International School (RIS), had two badminton teams for boys and girls, Junior Varsity and Varsity teams. I could only dream of playing in the Junior Varsity Girls Badminton team at that time. There was a lot of competition. Out of 50 students, only 16 were chosen. Tried out in 6^th grade. I got through the first cut, but couldn’t make it after that. As a result, I spent more and more hours on the court. Tried out again the next year. And finally I made it. My first dream came true. Now I planned the impossible for myself. I wanted to get into the Varsity Girls Badminton team when I was in 9^th grade.

It’s not a part of the school’s tradition to have many freshmen (9^th graders) in the varsity teams. I was told by my brother and friends not to expect too much. Tried out for varsity. I got through the second and third cuts. Made it to the team.

“This is it,” I told myself.

I didn’t expect more than this. This was all I had ever played for. But someone up above didn’t think so.

There is a major tournament at the end of the badminton season, South East Asian Student’s Activity Conference (SEASAC), and the top five boys and girls get to go and play. That year it was held at UWC, Singapore. I was in 9th grade, and was ranked fifth seed. The world can turn into one big fantasy for a 15-year-old girl to play a tournament played by the pros of the school.

I remember the size of the courts were bigger than the ones we played at in our school. Generally it’s hard to notice the difference, but for me it meant a bigger kingdom. The lines weren’t the ordinary black lines instead they were red lines. The hall had a capacity of holding 8 badminton matches simultaneously. It was pretty cold in the hall. Lunch was served by the school; not that bad, really. By the end of the tournament I won all my matches, and even bagged the mixed doubles championship. What a journey. This was just the beginning.

The most interesting matches I played there, surprisingly, were the mixed doubles matches. Coincidently, I was teamed with a boy form the New International School of Thailand (NIST). The finals of the mixed doubles was between the 2nd seed of the UWC girls team and the 2nd seed of the Jakarta International School (JIS) boys team against my partner and me both rookies ranking 5th. The final scores read 15-9, 17-15, 17-15 favoring us. This was the match that created the most amount of noise by the audience and resulted in dividing the audience into two equal parts, one consisting of players from Bangkok and the other with players from Singapore and Jakarta.

I had never felt that cautious before. All the eyes were constantly set on our smallest moves. Suggestions were screamed by each member of the both the teams while we walked back to serve.

Each serve, return, and shot cheered like a Wimbledon finals. The excitement and adrenaline was flowing everywhere.

It takes a long time to get something right, to get it just the way you want. Ask me, I know.

Can You Hear Silence? -- Part II

The rumblings of trucks fade. The whistling of a train is heard in the distance. The thought of hearing silence still drums my mind. My eyes close with a heavy burden. Will I ever hear silence one day?

The milk vans start. The workers, working on yet another building being built opposite our house, are not doing much. The rain last night made the things that they work with wet, I don't think they are going build more of the building today.

The making of the building started a long time ago. Everyday I see a few men carry shovels on their shoulders. And some of the women are just carrying long cloths in their hands, which they later fix on their heads to help them balance containers of cements, bricks and all the other weird stuff that they take upstairs. There are a few children also with them. I wonder what they do. But whenever I am at home, I always see that they are playing with the rocks kept near the building.

I get up to the sounds of the rumbling trucks and the hooting of trains. Why can’t I get up to the sweet chirping of birds? Will I ever get up to the chirping of birds?

“Rashmi. Chhaya. Get up, or else you’ll miss the bus again,” Mummy warned, pulling off the covers.
I get up quickly, almost jumping off the bed, and go out to the living room for a rain check. It had rained hard all last night. If we are lucky, again, we might not have to go to school today.
“Do we have to go to school, Papa? Is the road flooded?” I queried.
“No flood,” he says as he goes through the newspaper.
Our routine day starts. First me and Rashmi agrue about who is going to go to the bathroom first to take a bath. And like usual, she wins. I hate it when she wins. I never get to go to take a bath first. Everytime I have to fill the buckets before coming out. Then putting on the school uniform and socks and shoes. Rashmi is constantly shouting at me as she dresses me.
"When will you learn to put on ur own shirt, skirt," she keeps whispering loudly as she buttons my shirt.
"Little brat. Can't do anything yourself can you," she continued now as she was fixing the knot on my tie.
"At least I know how to tie my shoelaces," I said in defense.
"Yah, and that makes you the brightest girl around, right," she snapped back at me.
And as I struggle to tie my left shoe shoelace, both of us rush for the table for breakfast. And like everyday since I can remember, there are two toasts with strawberry jam and a glass of milk placed in the front of my chair. Same for Rashmi.
"Don't forget to take your vitamins," Mummy shouts from the kitchen.
As soon as she says, both of us take the tablets kept on the table and put them in our pockets. They are the only secret between me and Rashmi.
"Rakesh, your tea is getting cold. Don't tell me to reheat it later, I don't have time for things like that everyday," Mummy calls out to Papa from the kitchen.
We go to school, and come back home. Eat something. Then Rashmi goes to her tuitions. She comes back and starts acting funny with Ravi, again. They both stand outside his house and talk. They keep talking, not noticing anything aroung them. And in between she keeps laughing and giggling.
Mummy comes back from work. Hopefully, she won’t be looking like an angry ghost, as she usually does. Hopefully she’ll make us something nice to eat. Um…I’ll tell her to make samosas, we haven’t had them for a long time. And I don’t want to go to the shop downstairs. The gaint-like-man behind the counter scares me. He never says anything. He only hands the samosas. He is so big and fat that I think that he must be sneaking the samosas and eating them. Plus Mummy makes them better. But she looks very tired. Mummy works so hard that she has no time for us. I don’t like that. Megha is so lucky. Her mom makes what Megha wants. And she is home to look after Megha and her sister.
After that Megha and I go to play in the corridors. It’s fun playing with everyone. Megha cheated yesterday. She didn’t close her eyes when she was counting.
“Rashmi Didi, want to come and play with us?” I asked.
“I don’t play with small kids,” she replied with her back still facing me.
I only asked so that she would cheer up a bit. She was fighting with Mummy yesterday, yet again. But she shouldn’t have fought with Mummy.

Papa is still not home. He was late yesterday. And the day before. He was late all week. And even the days before that. I can’t remember all the days he was late. To think about it, I can’t recall the days that he comes in early or by dinner time. And he is late again today. Can’t he come early? Megha’s papa is always home by 5 o’clock. I know Papa works very hard, but…he has to think about Mummy also. And Rashmi. And me. He has to think about all of us.

Everytime he is late, Mummy and Rashmi fight. And Mummy scolds me for watching TV and having dinner. But what do I do? Everything is really quite at home when he is not there. And Mummy is trying to do everything. If something is broke, like the clock yesterday, she will try and fix it. And Mummy doesn't eat until Papa comes. And she doesn't like watching TV, I don't know why, because I love it. It is so cool. They show so many interesting things on TV.

The only time we see him is in the morning, with his face dug into the morning paper. He also, like Mummy, has no time for us. Rashmi and I hardly get to see him. He also started working on Sundays for the past eight Sundays. And in school we are taught that Sundays are family days. Everyone in the building goes out to the parks, cinemas and god knows which other places. We are the only ones left behind here.

We were having dinner when Rashmi started arguing with Mummy again. Or maybe Mummy started first.
“What were you doing with Ravi outside, I’ve told you before also not to talk to him,” Mummy warned Rashmi.
“God, you have a problem with everything I do. Now I can’t even talk to my friend,” she snapped back at Mummy.
“I know what type of friend he is,” Mummy said.
“You don’t know anything. And why would you even care. You and Papa don’t care about me. Leave me, you don’t even care about Chhaya. All you care about is your jobs and money,” she shouted and slammed the spoon down.
“Rashmi! Stop arguing and eat your food. This girl, I tell you, she has lost all her senses. Wait. You just wait. Wait till I tell your father. Yah, I won’t do anything, I’ll let him handle you. He can very well do it,” she said almost talking to herself.
Rashmi left the table and went to sleep in her room, without eating dinner.
And then there was silence. Wait a minute, was that silence. Didn’t seem like it. I could still hear the trucks, trains and traffic outside. Was Rashmi hearing it? Can anyone ever hear silence?
Mummy quickly put me to sleep. Papa came late again today. And he even fought with Mummy…again. Actually as usual.
I can’t fall asleep. Will Rashmi be asleep yet? She came in here quite sometime back. Maybe. Maybe not. Let me check.
I sit up on my bed. Look left, look right. Look out the window, I can still see the trucks and traffic outside. Can’t see the train, but I’m sure it’s about to come. It always comes at this time.
“Chhaya…what are you doing? Go to sleep. Tomorrow is not Sunday, you have to get up early,” she told me.
I couldn’t see her. Not because she had her back to me. She did. But I couldn’t even see her back. It was too dark. I knew what I had to do.
I just had to wait a little longer and stare somewhere in the dark. And then in a few seconds, I’ll be able to see her. Maybe even her face. Because by then she would have turned around. And my eyes will also get better. I discovered this long time ago. The art of seeing in the dark. Hmm. Sounds good: The Art of Seeing In the Dark by Chhaya Varma. My first book. Good good. And plus I like writing. I can write 4 good sentences. That is a lot. The best in class. I wrote even better sentences than Megha. She cannot write good sentences.
“Didi, you did not eat nah? Are you hungry?” I asked her, still trying to see in the dark.
“No Chhaya, just go to sleep,” she replied softly.
“No, but…” I said even softer.
I didn’t say anything after that. I didn’t feel the need to. I could see now. I got up and went to the study table. I was sure in my heart that it wasn’t there. It couldn’t have been. She hadn’t eaten since lunch that day. But then, this happens many times.
I don’t like it whenever Mummy and Didi fight. I don’t like it whenever Mummy and Papa also fight. I don’t like it. It is so bad. Everyone is always shouting. And they are always shouting at each other at the same time. That is so dumb. They shout at each other and they can’t even hear each other.
But it is better than the fighting we have. Me and Megha fight a lot in school and when we play at home. Sometimes she cheats. And I don’t like it. So I tell her and then she shouts at me telling me that I am a cheater. But I do not cheat. At least not all the time. And then she cries and hits me. She pinches me also. And hits me on my face.

A few days back we were playing in school during lunch break. Anita wanted to do something inside the classroom that day. She cannot walk properly. I don’t know why, I guess she has some problem with her leg.
It is not there. She has no leg. At first when I saw that I thought it was weird because I did not know where it was. I mean she was the first person that I saw that it did not have a leg. Everyone else had two legs. She walked on some sort of sticks. Two of them. She left them outside the classroom. So in class whenever we have Story Time, she is carried by our teacher. She is always the last one to come to the carpet area. But there are always 3 pillows saved for her. Not fair, I sometimes only get 2.
But she is a nice girl. She always asks me if I want to share her lunch with her. Her mother sends aloo puri most of the times. And the other times she brings good delicacies that her mother makes.
Mummy never makes them. She has no time to make them. So I get bread and jam everyday in my lunchbox. Sometimes bread and butter. But nothing else.
Anita is the only one who asks me to share her lunch with her. No one else asks me. Not even Megha. Megha never asks me if I want her lunch. She knows that I don’t like what I get in my lunch box, but still she never asks.
She is my best friend, but not my best friend. She is my best friend because she lives in the same building as I do, and she goes to the same school as I do. She plays at the same park as I do. We do everything together. But sometimes I don’t like her.

But I don’t understand why Didi keeps shouting at Mummy. She should not do that. She is younger than Mummy. I remember Grandma telling me not to shout at elder people.

“Always remember Chhaya, a small and sweet girl like you should never shout at older people,” she repeated once again.
“If you shout and scream at your Mummy or Papa then monsters will come to your room while you are sleeping and eat your ears,” she would tell me whenever we went to visit them during vacations.
Didi always listens to what Grandma says. But not to what Mummy says. Didi likes Grandma more. She used to spend a lot of time with Grandma alone when we were there. They would just be in Grandma’s room talking and talking all day long.
The room was big. Bigger than my room here. Bigger than Mummy and Papa’s room also. And there was a big bed in the middle. With a clean, white mosquito net hanging from the top. The bed was very old I think. Whenever you sit on it, it moves the whole bed. The bedsheets were also white. But sometimes Grandma puts the one with blue flowers that Mummy gave her.
There was a table full of medicines on the right. There were bottles, big, small, fat; all kinds of bottles. And there were many injections also. Grandma had to put injection to herself everyday. I don’t like injections. They hurt a lot. I always cry when Doctor Uncle has to put injection on me. I don’t think all the medicines were Grandma’s though, some were also for Grandpa. They both took many medicines.

I miss Grandma. I want to go to visit them again, but Papa said that we will not be able to go anywhere for vacations this time. He said that he and Mummy had a lot of work to do. He said there was no time.

Mummy also should not shout so much at Didi. Maybe Mummy does not know that after Didi goes back to the room, she is always crying. I always ask, “What happened, Didi?” But she doesn’t tell me anything. She just keeps on crying.

“What happened Didi?” I asked again, not expecting an answer from her as usual.
She didn’t reply, like I had predicted. She got up and came down from her bed. We had a bunk bed our room, she slept on the top bed. She came down and wrapped me in her arms. I did not understand. Why was she hugging me?
“When you grow up, never become like me. Deal?” she told half sobbing.
“But you are not bad. You just shout at Mummy sometimes. That is just one bad thing. Everything is good,” I replied.
“No, you just don’t become like me,” she told me again.
“Ok,” I said.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked again, thinking it was the right time.
She nodded.
“Can you hear silence?” I asked.
“No. No one can. Silence cannot be heard. And what are you doing asking such philosophical questions anyways. Plan to write your own book someday, huh?” she told me in a more light tone.
I didn’t say anything to her.
“Ok, no Sunday tomorrow, go to sleep now,” she ordered.
“Ok, goodnight,” I said.
She went up to her bed and I went to mine. As I put my head on the pillow, I start thinking again about silence.
Grandma can hear it. Mummy can't hear it. Didi can’t hear the silence. Will I ever be able to hear it?

Maula

Maula – Om the Fusion Band

Maula , Maula, Maula, Maula

Tuthe dil se nikle ek dua hai,
Rakh se uutha dhua hai,
Sunle khudayaa
Isme jaise hai bisat jis mein
Aftab baan gaya hai,

Sunle khudayaa

Sun saada mere maula, sun zara mere maula,
Yaa khuda mere maula, sun zara

Sun zara mere maula, sun zara mere maula,
Yaa khuda mere maula, sun zara

Tuthe dil se nikle ek dua hai,
Rakh se uutha dhua hai,
Sunle khudayaa
Sunle khudayaa
Sunle khudayaa

Isme jaise hai bisat jis mein
Aftab baan gaya hai,

Sunle khudayaa

Sun saada mere maula, sun zara mere maula,
Yaa khuda mere maula, sun zara.

Sun zara mere maula, sun zara mere maula,
Yaa khuda mere maula, sun zara.

Yun hee raasto pe chal diye,
Carvaa mein shamel ho diye.
Kiske rakh mein the kya khabar,
Yaakein tha who teri thi dagar.
Par nishan na mile humko tere.
Aaj dar-ba-dar bhatak rahe hain,
Tere rah tak rahe hain, sunle khudayaa.
Sirf tera intezar humko,
Aake roshni dekha de, sunle khudayaa.

Sun saada mere maula, sun zara mere maula,
Yaa khuda mere maula, sun zara
Sun zara mere maula, sun zara mere maula,
Yaa khuda mere maula, sun zara

Rahe gaardishon mein zindagi,
Koi rahha milti hi nahi.
Tera naam, teri bandagi,
Yehi hai, haan, yehi hai kushi.
Thamle door hum apne gharo ki
Tu hi aasara, tu hi sukoon hai,
Humko tere hi junnon hai, sunle khudayaa.
Kahkh hai yeh saari zindagani,
Aur kayanat tu hai, sunle khudayaa.

Sun saada mere maula, sun zara mere maula,
Yaa khuda mere maula, sun zara

Sun zara mere maula, sun zara mere maula,
Yaa khuda mere maula, sun zara

*this one is for u bhai...congrats on the job and good luck...

If we believe in God, must we believe in the Devil too?

PHYSICS 101 (Rule # 1):

Each force has its equal and opposite.

Right!?! So that means that if the Bible is true then Satan must be real; agar bhagwan hai toh shaitaan bhi hoga!?!

What might happen if a few bad things outside of our daily reckoning were actually possible?

You find yourself taking extra precautions, or leaving on a few more lights, because some rumors/thoughts/ facts(?) put that little whisper in your ear that maybe there are things - bad things - out there that you never really thought possible.

But who can be sure?

Which brings me to a movie I watched recently: The Exorcism of Emily Rose.

Here is the background of the movie:

Anneliese Michel (Emily Rose) (September 21, 1952 - July 1, 1976) was a German college student who died during an exorcism. Her parents and the priests who carried out the exorcism were later convicted of manslaughter.

From her birth on the 21st of September, 1952, Anneliese Michel enjoyed the life of a normal, religiously nurtured young girl. Without warning, her life changed on a day in 1968 when she began shaking and found she was unable to control her body. She could not call out for her parents or any of her 3 sisters. A neurologist at the Psychiatric Clinic Wurzburg diagnosed her with ‘Grand Mal’ epilepsy. Because of the strength of the epileptic fits, and the severity of the depression that followed, Anneliese was admitted for treatment at the hospital.

Soon after the attacks began, Anneliese started seeing devilish grimaces during her daily praying. It was the fall of 1970, and while the young people of the world were enjoying the liberal freedoms of the time, Anneliese was battling with the belief that she was possessed. It seemed there was no other explanation for the appearance of devilish visions during her prayers. Voices also began following her, saying Anneliese will "stew in hell." She mentioned the "demons" to the doctors only once, explaining that they have started to give her orders. The doctors seem unable to help, and Anneliese lost hope that medicine was going to be able to cure her.

In the summer of 1973, her parents visited different pastors to request an exorcism. Their requests were rejected and they were given recommendations that the now 20 year old Anneliese should continue with medication and treatment. It was explained that the process by which the Church proves a possession (Infestatio) is strictly defined, and until all the criteria are met, a bishop can not approve an exorcism. The requirements, to name a few, include an aversion to religious objects, speaking in a language the person has never learned, and supernatural powers.

In 1974, after supervising Anneliese for some time, Pastor Ernst Alt requested a permit to perform the exorcism from the Bishop of Wurzburg. The request was rejected, and a recommendation soon followed saying that Anneliese should live even more of a religious lifestyle in order to find peace. The attacks did not diminish, and her behavior become more erratic. At her parents house in Klingenberg, she insulted, beat, and began biting the other members of her family. She refused to eat because the demons would not allow it. Anneliese slept on the stone floor, ate spiders, flies, and coal, and even began drinking her own urine. She could be heard screaming throughout the house for hours while breaking crucifixes, destroying paintings of Jesus, and pulling apart rosaries. Anneliese began committing acts of self-mutilation at this time, and the act of tearing off her clothes and urinating on the floor became commonplace.

In September 1975, the Bishop of Wurzburg, assigned Father Arnold Renz and Pastor Ernst Alt with the order to perform "The Great Exorcism" on Anneliese Michel. It was determined that Anneliese must be saved from the possession by several demons, including Lucifer, Judas Iscariot, Nero, Cain, Hitler, and Fleischmann, a disgraced Frankish Priest from the 16th century, and some other damned souls which had manifested through her. From September '75 until July '76, one or two exorcism sessions were held each week. Anneliese's attacks were sometimes so strong that she would have to be held down by 3 men, or even chained up.

The attacks, however, did not stop. In fact, she would more often find herself paralyzed and falling unconscious than before. The exorcism continued over many months, always with the same prayers and incantations. Sometimes family members would be present during the rituals. For several weeks, Anneliese denied all food. Her knees ruptured due to the 600 genuflections she performed obsessively during the daily exorcism. The process was recorded on over 40 audio tapes, in order to preserve the details.

The last day of the Exorcism Rite was on June 30th, 1976, and Anneliese was suffering at this point from Pneumonia. She was also totally emaciated, and running a high fever. Exhausted and unable to physically perform the genuflections herself, her parents stood in and helped carry her through the motions. "Beg for Absolution" was the last statement Anneliese made to the exorcists. To her mother, she said, "Mother, I'm afraid." Anna Michel recorded the death of her daughter on the following day, July 1st, 1976, and at noon, Pastor Ernst Alt informed the authorities in Aschaffenburg. The senior prosecutor began investigating immediately.

A short time before these final events unfolded, William Friedkin's "The Exorcist" (1974) came to the cinemas in Germany, bringing with it a wave of paranormal hysteria that flooded the nation. Psychiatrists all over Europe reported an increase of obsessive ideas among their patients. Prosecutors took more than 2 years to to take Annaliese's case to court, using that time to sort through the bizarre facts. Anneliese's parents and the two exorcists were accused of negligent homocide. The "Klingenberg Case" would be decided upon two questions: What caused the death of Anneliese Michel, and who was responsible?

According the forensic evidence, Anneliese starved to death. Specialists claimed that if the accused would have begun with forced feeding one week before her death, Anneliese's life would have been saved. One sister told the court that Anneliese did not want to go to a mental home where she would be sedated and forced to eat. The exorcists tried to prove the presence of the demons, playing taped recordings of strange dialogues like that of two demons arguing about which one of them would have to leave Anneliese's body first. One of the demons called himself Hitler, and spoke with a Frankish accent (Hitler was born in Austria). Not one of those present during the exorcism ever had a doubt about the authenticity of the presence of these demons.

The psychiatrists, whom had been ordered to testify by the court, spoke about the "Doctrinaire Induction." They said that the priests had provided Anneliese with the contents of her psychotic behavior. Consequentially, they claimed, she later accepted her behavior as a form of demonic possession. They also offered that Anneliese's unsettled sexual development, along with her diagnosed Temporal Lobe Epilepsy, had influenced the psychosis.

The verdict was considered by many to be not as harsh as they expected. Anneliese's parents, as well as the exorcists, were found guilty of manslaughter resulting from negligence and omitting first aid. They were sentenced to 6 months in jail and probation.

AB-Ash?! No way...

rumors say that my indian G2, AB Jr., is wooing Ash, the fakester...aaaahhhhhh, what's with him?!!!!!!!

Less is more

A new club, Association at Webster for Advancing Rights & rights Education (AWARE), was formed on January 24^th, 2006 during the general WTSC meeting. The goals of AWARE are to “promote, monitor and advance student rights and assist students with the realization of those rights. The organization shall achieve its goals through the creation of Focus Groups, which will collectively support, enquire and ensure that the Students Rights, according to the student rights instruments, are upheld and thus creating and maintaining a supportive learning environment at WUT”.

Being in WUT since Fall 1 2004, I was used to the idea of students coming here and complaining and rather than doing anything about the concerned issue. So when I heard that a club such as AWARE was being formed, I was relieved. At least, now students care about issues in WUT. and on top of that, they r willing to do the work it requires. The prime root cause of various issues at WUT is the low student population. Is it really a fact of reality or has it been overused to the point that it sounds like an excuse?

The answer to that is student spirit.

Just because WUT has low student population, it doesn't mean that there has to low student spirit.

Extra-curriculum activities offered at any university can be used as a tool of measurement for student spirit. Sadly, but truly; WTSC was, till now, the most active organization, but with the introduction of AWARE, things do look different. In terms of sports, things looks way better than six months back; there are regular football matches, a basketball and badminton tournaments were organized.

I feel that this is not enough. Pardon me for the cliché, but its true: WUT’s diversity seems to be hindering more than helping. Large communities such as Vietnam, Burma and the rest, hardly interact with the others and vice versa. The only time enthusiasm is seen when competitive events such as COC or Food Fair are organized. If students want things to get better at WUT, then the first step has to come from them, they have to start participating in activities outside of classrooms. Less is more.

It’s time WUT illustrates some student spirit.

"Life is not the number of breaths you take; it’s the moments that take your breath away.”

Drop in Ocean

Drop in the ocean

My first conversations with new students coming to Webster University Thailand:

-XYZ: “So how long have you been in Thailand?”
-V: “Umm…more than 10 years.”
-XYZ: “Really?”
-V: Yah. Well, you see, I was born in India but brought up here. I’ve done my entire schooling at an international school in Bangkok.”
-XYZ: “So you know how to speak Thai.”
-V (face turning tomato red with embarrassment): “Umm…not really, I mean, I can understand but my verbal Thai is not very good.”
-XYZ: “Really, I guessed 10+ years would be enough for one to learn a language.”

And there I stand, embarrassed to death. And then come the questions haunting me: Should I really be embarrassed, after all, I studied at an international school, and live in what can be best described as ‘little India’ away from India; my parents can, to a certain extend, converse in Thai. But what does that have to do with me, I am what I am, and therefore should know how to speak in Thai by now. And now my memory goes down to the lane of RIS, where I remember just a couple of years back, there were rumors that RIS is going to turn completely into a Thai school, but the reality was that the school administration was starting to practice a law (which was compulsory and should have implemented since the start) that they were ignoring till now which was: all international schools had to have Beginner’s Thai classes for foreign students. Makes sense, and now I just wish that they had done that before, it would save me so much of embarrassment. Well, I’m an NRI, ’int it. And that brings me to the next big issue, that of NRIs.

NRI: Non-Resident Indian or is it really, Non-Returning Indian? Call me what you want, I’m more proud to be an Indian than a NRI. NRI has become more of a social status-symbol than anything else. ‘O! You are a NRI; then you must have the ‘name-fame-and hari patti’. Must we? After having a opportunity to study abroad, live abroad, isn’t it our duty; I repeat, not what we should do, but our duty to in some manner or the other go back to our ‘Mother India’ and give back to the community we come from.

Our colony can be mistaken for any other colony in Indore, Chennai, Kolkotta, or any other developed city in India. With the recently build Laxmi-Narayan Mandir, it doesn’t even feel that we are living outside India. But don’t the kids, aunties and to a certain extent even the uncles (who are in their own worlds of peroxide, sulfur and fiber) get excited at the thought of going to India for the summer vacation. And don’t our eyes get moist just at the thought of thinking of our homes and relatives back in India? You might say that it all looks good from here, but once reality strikes, well, ‘jhor ka jaatka, dhere se lage’. With our comfortable lifestyles here; maids who help mummys keep the house clean; no exact electricity and water bills; AC cars; when we return to India, life sometimes gets hard.

“With all the pollution, dirty roads, poverty, heat, corruption, who would want to go back and live when we have a better life here?” True, why should we go through the trouble that the common Indian man lives everyday; we are NRIs, aren’t we?

Hmm..can India give us everything that our Residential colony has over here? Of course, why not. The only hitch in that is that people have to go back and do the work. I know that it is not easy, but life is not easy. If life gives you lemons, go ahead and make lemonade. If even a small percentage of NRIs go back to India and just TRY to make a difference, a lot can happen. Not just in monetary donations when some natural disaster hits India, but in the actual forming a better India, in helping INDIA SHINNING. I don’t know about the others but I definitely am going to try and go back and settle down in India. I might not succeed but at least I can say that I tried.

A drop in the ocean might be small, but the ripples run far.

Sa Re Ga Ma Pa Challenge 2005

coming soon...

shayari...

Tum mujhe bhool bhi jaao, toh yeh haq hai tumko,
Meri baat aur hai, maine to mohobbat kee hai...
---------------------------------------------------------
Maine kab tumse kaha tha, ki mujhe pyaar karo,
Gairon ne Zafa ki, toh ki, koi baat nahin,

Pyaar jab tum ne kiya tha, toh nibhaya hota,
Gair toh gair hain, Aap se yeh ummeed na thi
----------------------------------------------------------

(no, i'm not that good in writing that i write all of this, this is somebody else's original work...hat's off though...)

good old school days...

never thought i would say this, but man, i'm missing RIS...really. what days...

the van ride from A&B to RIS, with the driver driving at 20km/hour!!! the walk from the van drop to High School building to the lockers of P, Sn,Sh, J, and me on 5th, 3rd, 2nd, and 1st floors respectively...pacing and tyring to make sure that we enter the building around the same time that G2 comes down to fill his bottle of water from the water fountain...

hanging out before assembly near J and Sh's locker, or PC lab on 4th floor. laughing. singing. talking. gossiping. worrying. the space between Mr. M's classroom and J's locker, it became quite an instant 'aadda'.

and the thursday lunch breaks, where we all 9esp. me) were over-excited about the SEEDS club meeting in H.204 (lambu's room). sometimes G2 did look uncomfortable, maybe 4 indian girls was too much for him to handle, hehe, what say girls?!

man, i miss those days...

finally got a job (work-study)

"yeh world hain nah, world, is mein doh tarah ke log hote hai, ek woh jo saari zindagi ek he kaam karte rehte hai, aur doosre woh jo ek he zindagi mein saare kaam kar dalte hain...hum oon doosro mein se hain..." (Bunty)

(K: i'm not copying, it's connected, just read on)...
the 1st year at WUT, i worked for the business department head for a year and then at the library for a semester and now the student coordinator in the new Campus Ambassador Program

just to let u know what i do is to coordinate communiations between a group of student ambassadors and Admissions office and have to report directly to the Admissions Director and Admissions Office in bangkok and will be overseeing 10 campus ambassadors...and now your obvious question, who r these student ambassadors and what do they do?...

well, student ambassadors are people who bring new students from bangkok airport to hua hin and now they will be involved in providing an oversight of WUT to prospective students via email correspondence and thru personal interaction on campus with any visitor from particular countries (Bangladesh, Bhutan, India, Burma, Nepal, Norway, Thailand, and Vietnam).

hmm...enough of that for today iguess, not muc time also for writing too much...hopefully my work will help...i alraeyd have a brilliant idea...let's see how well it works...thanks N...

take care and God bless people...

dravid VS the rest...

read the following quote by the caption of the indian cricket team, and then u'll know the basic difference between him and sachin tendulkar.....uff, i've got one thing to say to sachin fans, (its not that i dont like the way the man plays or anything, but come on man, his fans have got to start o appriciate other players as well, seriously he is no GOD..) 'what is the point of breaking all these records and making new ones if ur team is always gonna be on the losing side???' dravid's contributions r relative and relavant to the team, he took up keeping hte wickets and at the same time came to bat 1 down...that is what u call a cricketer...team comes first people remember, there wud be no tendulkar if he was not PART OF THE INDIAN CRICKET TEAM....

"My team-mates know me pretty well by now. There's strategy involved and I am thinking of the best chance we have to get the right result. It's not false bravado out there. It's about who I think are the best people to play in different positions and situations. It's about what is best for the team. I may not get all my decisions right, but I'll try and take all of them so that it gives my team the best chance."

anyways, enough of this cricket non sense....

i broke my framless glasses for hte umpth time now...man i just got them fixed over the break for like 900 Baht...what the hell, uff, alright new year resolution # 9: no more breaking my glasses...

i'm still unemployed and am hating it, really....

have been thinking lately of writing a short story or smth...but dont know just cant think of a story to write on..was initially thinking of writing smth from my personal life, but then it becomes to obvious to u people, so cant do that....hmm......well, if u guys can gimme a good topic i'll try and write a good story...

have an accounting assignment to complete...so write more for u guys later....

take care. and god bless.

N is back....finally...

have been meaning to write more often, and write more...but just can't find the time...thanks alot for the 2 people who go through the trouble of reading and replying.... ;)

my good friend,N, is finally back, so i'm really happy....apart from that, nothing interesting going on...

the man we love to hate and hate to love...

what is it with the 'indian media'...as it is, the pak tour has become the talk of town, and hell why not...but why ATTACK poor old ganguly...don't they understand that he has enough trouble with his battle with the ball and greg..and plus, i know that this is the way that 'they' (reporters and jounalists) earn their bread and butter, but still...give the man a break...for god's sake, be supportive...well, i wont say for once because its not that they haven't supported but for the sake of humanity, why the hell not support somebody when things are going bad...you know..one of the golden rules of life = BE NICE....

so people (K: [TING TING], u too) be nice....

my kingdom....or atleast that is what i called it...

the 33 x 18 m court with two parallel lines in each border with four boxes and 1 net that makes a badminton court...well, its not a place for me anymore, or atleast that is what i feel and think...

once upon a long time, say 4 years ago, that same box, whether in singapore, NIST, RIS, or the good old colony, used to be my 'kingdom'...the only place i ruled...the only place i felt i deserved as my own...and now...i just dont feel like i can call it mine anymore...

since u r wondering why i'm saying all this...well, was playing badminton on campus..after a long...say after a year or so, and just like the last time i 'tried' playing, i just couldn't....it just didnt feel right...

playing badminton would solve so many of my problems...or atleast help me...physically as well as mentally (J, P, S: u know what i'm talking about, nah???)...

the girl that once upon a time had only 2 crazes (at that point in time): cricket (well, technically dravid really...hehe.) and badminton...

well before the bus from school returned inside the colony every friday, my plans for playing badminton was already made...and then came saturdays and sundays, where i made sure that the evenings were untouched by the numerous plans as i had to play badminton, from 3 or 4 to 8 or 9....that was perfect....

but then one day, i fell down and ever since then i really haven't been able to get up ..to build up my courage to "play" badminton...maybe i wont ever really be able to "play" the way i used to anymore, not just technically, but even like emotionally and mentally...even after more than 2 years...

o! well, i dont want to bore & depress u guys with all this...

first class of Spring I 2006...

had my first spring 1 2006 class today...was ok ok...the teacher, although good, can get boring...the most weird was when he came back after the break and started telling us a 'story' about his brother who has to live on oxygen for the rest of his life because he started smoking during college...i guess he was inspired as he saw his students smoke during the break time...but what is the point, all the smokers didnt come back to class after the break!!! haha....

well, now on to serious business, you really shouldn't smoke...

just now, as i was sitting in the store-cum-office in the red door, guess who comes?!

steve beaver, the new admissions director, was asking about what all we sold here at the store and so i took my chance and asked him about what happened to my application for the student ambasaddor officer position...(let me tell u one thing, being unemployed is not fun at all!!!)...and he was saying that it wont take too long now since there are only 3 for that position and nobody for the other 'volunteer' position..and he wants that person to get people to do volunteer work...he asked my name...yipee. see good impressions last...

since yesterday i've been thinking of my g2 so much...lord knows y...esp. that small skit v did....hehe....

have meeting later in the day...so take care till then....

first post...

this is my first post...actually i had some identification on my old blog, so shifted here...am planning to put proper posts soon...so keep looking...