The Write Journey from White to Right

“Write’ seems so simple. Quite unique but when we actually pronounce it, we hear it as right. Isn’t it?
So we all have the ‘Right to Write’. It is only a select few who actually have the ability and the knack to express ideas and thoughts in paper. Let’s take for instance, how we begin to write?

Remember the first time a chalk and a slate was handed onto us as a toddler and we were told to write the first words. There was no pressure upon us. We could write endlessly, wipe off the slate and write again. A box of colorful chalks did wonders, a couple of them would unknowingly enter your mouth. Upon being noticed, would be instructed not to treat it that way, rather to use it for its sole purpose. Nevertheless our fickle mind somehow enjoys tasting the chalk once a while, being unnoticed.

The initial masterpiece replicates crow’s-droppings. The scribbling gradually expands its reach to fill the walls, the floor, dining table, newly painted doors and places that are meant to be kept clean and tidy.

Then time nears to get started with proper schooling. By then we are a little older and we know the basics of alphabets and to-be-known words. Life changes hereon. We get into a new atmosphere of rules and regulations. They call it cursive writing. Huh! Initially, an impossible task to write in flowing strokes between the lines. More because we are used to the freedom of writing or rather scribbling anywhere and anyhow and now that we are glued to norms. Well, gradually we learnt the art of writing correctly and clearly. But, wait a minute, do we become writers’ at this stage. Definitely not.

The human mind is termed complex and interesting. Most children are given the same inputs when it comes knows what it is to write. But as time passes by and age grows, so does the ability of children to understand the depth of writing for a purpose. Some imbibe the creative style of writing for a reason. Others confine to what is expected to be written. Expression of thoughts and ideas verbally is quite different from when it comes to writing our thoughts on paper.

Well, there is no right way to write. But we all have the right to write in our best possible way to express ourselves beyond what is delivered during our early tuition as a toddler. The secret lies in encouraging what our heart guides us through. So even if we do not excel in cursive writing, relax! All that matters is how well we explore the creative world by writing our thoughts to make others realize the essence of truth. The truth maybe anything that is under and beyond the Sun.

We all have a writer within us! We all! We all can express our thoughts our style, without bothering about rules. A simple word can do wonders! Right? 

The Surrender to White Grade, Foster's Compassion

She woke up unwillingly because it was White day

How on earth she thought can there be such a terror!

She folded her White dress in a cover and tucked it in the already heavy school bag

Even when the books she took were according to the time table

An extra bag for her lunch box and water bottle and she is ready

The Long ‘Tring’ bell rang and all students at their best, in their seat

The focus on the board while the teacher explained theories were mandatory

Or a chalk piece would come straight onto the distracted, as a reminder

She was an attentive student, humble and always in the good books of all

One could easily get the feel of gentleness from her simple innocent looks

She wished that the hours stretched a little longer than the usual

What if the white class was cancelled if there was a rain shower?

What if the new beast like terrifying figure did not turn up to school?

As the thoughts rolled, time galloped and she saw the fear nearing

There was no excuse of staying back as the rules did not allow so

She changed into the white attire as her fellow girls and followed

She felt a shiver, her nerve pull, her legs pulling her back in her mind.

 Finally the rough, unpleasant voice greeted them all with a smirk

To start with, two big rounds of the playground, move on

She froze to death as it was not her day for sure

She was shown no mercy and she did as the others

When asked for a consideration, by the regular coach

She laughed and said, It is all a lie, all others can do, why not she?

Her class friends empathized but who could afford a low grade standing by the right.

After one round, her breath gave up and she was sweating, yet she never gave up

There was not even an iota of humanity trickling in those pale dead eyes

Finally, she felt the earth stop and she hit the dry grass, thud

At first no one noticed and they were way ahead, then the girls ran back to help

She was slowly lifted and with support brought to the open theatre space

She had slight bruises on her knee but was gasping for breath continuously

 They brought water, sprinkled it on her face, she felt helpless and breathless

Her best friend felt her pain more and was by her side till she came back to normal

The beasty figure looked worried, suggested that she be taken to the resting room

The Bell rang for the lunch break and she went back to her class

The White Day incident was scary yet she thought to keep silent about it

She was really good in her academics, even with lesser grade in Sports, she could manage

The next week, the White day came again but then she was calm

She just wanted to face the fear and allow things to happen the natural way

We cannot change this devil mind, her friends whispered

The schedule all set to begin, she was ready to run for her breath

She closed her eyes, prayed to God, when suddenly she heard her name

Perhaps yet another sneer, she thought so and was all set to jog

She heard her name again, loud and clear, in disbelief, she turned behind

She was told to sit, while the others completed the rounds.

She sat obediently and gratitude to God was pouring in.

The other aerobics sessions were fine and easy for her.

The beast turned an Angel without having to plead or request, she thought.

Compassion blossoms suddenly in the seemingly heartless people.

                                                                                                                              

Memories of 'Rock' Star Friendship

It was the first time she told him ‘Hi’,

Walking back home from school,
A casual talk about studies and some smiles exchanged
She was gentle, intelligent yet self-effacing
He was bold, smart yet very straight-forward.

Months passed and friendship blossomed
Little did they realize that they had turned good friends.
Reading books and exchanging few become a routine
Respect and care for each other would always be high.

If ever tears fell because of a failure mark
He would pat her and cheer her up for sure.
Where society had its version for his arrogance,
She would always be on his side for his unassuming nature.
He loved being a Rock star at school and worked hard to get one.

He would come to her home seeking a little help,
A day before submitting any project.
He always knew she would help him unconditionally.
He would score higher than her but she would smile.
Her birthday party would have been meaningless without his presence.
His wishes and presence during festivals also elated their friendship.

Then came the era of crushes and crisis
His list of musings and his craziness would never surprise her.
She knew his fickle heart but did not want to see him hurt
But friendship calls for support than shun.
She had her cherubic likes and he would listen too
Crushes remain as long as you hold your palm open.
They are only but momentary fantasies subject to changes.

She realized that a little too late when the damage was done
He really cared for her and somewhere felt she used him.
He somewhere felt that other girls mattered more to her than his friendship
It was those times when telephones were priceless and kept locked.
Calling and talking was perhaps one of the most frightful desires.

The wonder years of school were about to come to a close
Meetings and talks became limited because of exams
She would wait after each exam to hear from him.
Her presence was most of the time unnoticed.
But then she could feel the wall of silence building high.

The Farewell at school witnessed the entire group
No one ever knew what destiny holds for them.
Celebrations were over as she saw him cheerful with the famous girls
He never spoke a word to her and she felt a pain within.

10 years of friendship mattered more than stupid crushes.

The aspiring and ambitious goals of every one separated happy good friends
Who loved to share their world of books, poems, dreams and goals with each other.
She was given no chance to speak and destiny took her to a far away land.

At times speaking out would give a better solution
Years passed by but every time she spoke of her school life
Her eyes would sparkle with glow talking about her friend.
She prays unconditionally that wherever on Earth he is,
God showers Love, Fame, Success and the Dreams desired by him.

An ode to the childhood friend - Part 1

As she opened her feeble eyes, the world stood welcoming her with love, care and comfort. The love of her parents and sister, the care of her mother and the comfort of being protected from chilly winters and the humid summers, the somber monsoons and the dry spring. A special child of God who was given a second life by the Almighty –perhaps to be blessed with such wonderful parents.

As she grew, she was slow, weak but had a sharp mind and a pure heart that know only love. She went to the best schools in the city, used to get good remarks from her teachers. She had one best friend who was there right from the time she was born. A lovely human, her dad’s age, a chronic bachelor and perhaps one of the most adorable and selfless human ever to be seen. He had taken to look after his ailing mother and let go his youth. He had done his duty as a brother, uncle and a son to make his family well settled and happy. Very few people knew him well as she did. He was her first friend. He hailed from Andhra and she from God's Own Country (Kerala), but she picked his language much faster than her very own mother tongue.

Her wishes would be a command for him and he would best ensure to make her happy. Even though her family would tell her not to do this or that as everyone does, he would always give her the freedom. The best being the time when she would sit near the gate waiting for him to return from office. By then she would complete her home-work and so spared of getting scolding. People called him a crazy man because he was difficult to be convinced, he was hard at hearing and he had his own ways and methods. Then, he would always be honest and teach her the same.

Late in the evening, she would squat and sit on the cement plinth in the kitchen to watch him make the chapatti dough and sabzi. More because she would get her share as well. Just 5 chapattis and that would be enough for him. He would surprise her with her favorite ‘kala jamun’ on festivals. He would cook excellent-keeping in mind the right proportion of ingredients and health too.Diwali would be the ultimate bonanza as she would get the share of crackers from her dad and of course her friend too. He would even make crackers for diwali a week prior. When the crackers got exhausted, he would take her to the kiraana-store a little distance away and buy her many more. Things were all cool and lovely with her life revolving around her school, family and best friend when suddenly things changed.