Resting too much, and hence, restless

Somehow, I have been getting quite a few days off recently. Count it as one of the perks of being a school teacher, or the troubles of being ill and having to take leaves for visiting the doctor, but the matter of the fact is that with Holi being on a Monday and other works falling before and after the weekend, I have been staying home for a few days.

And so disrupted, fleeting thoughts have been a common hobby. Sometimes I wonder about what I should watch on the TV, especially since our TV has turned environment friendly (everything looks green on that screen. Must be something with the colour gadget inside the big box) and since then I have lost interest of anything shown on it. And every time I find out something remotely watchable, I find Maa hooked on to it, watching the same piece of news broadcasted for the 17th time in the day. Basically I have stopped watching TV. Well, the other reason is that our internet connection has been upgraded, thanks to Dada, so now I can watch any programme online, without having to wait for it.

Next, I am trying to read my first ever John Grisham. Make a face, think in your mind that I am almost an illiterate for not having read his works till now, or just wonder how-could-she-not? Here again, the matter of the fact is that I am not a big thriller fan. Once in a while, a good book recommended is fine. But the reason I picked out this one from the school library is that now that the session is over, and we are having almost the whole day to ourselves, I thought a thriller might do justice to my idleness, and show how good an employee I am by keeping myself away from the inevitable yawns. And of course, there is the reason that I asked myself how-could-I-not [have read Grisham] ?

I ought to start singing again. I have been miserably lazy with it for the past 8 months. I simply must start with it. Well,  from tomorrow! ;-)

There has been a nice surprise recently! Got gifts from N, as I told her that they are my post V-Day gifts! Here are what I got!

The Tough Task-Master

                                 The goal is farther yet!

Just when I thought I knew the answer to “myself”, I did things which made me all the confused. Have I done anything diabolic or severe? Not really. But it somehow feels like having revealed more than I could afford to. Not that I have shared somebody else’s secrets. What I talked about was no secret about me as well.

And sometimes I wonder if I am too hard on myself. I remember having read as a child in Alice in Wonderland that Alice used to scold herself, and accepting with surprise that I did the same thing as well. I still do. I scold myself whenever I falter even the slightest. I am strict and hard on myself, may be because I expect a lot from myself. I can’t forgive the mistakes which I know will affect me adversely in the future. It may be something as silly and apparently harmless as talking too much on one fine day when the work load is light. Like today. But I am constantly chiding my own self that I should have restrained my impulses.

And then, I am the one who acts almost always on whims and impulses. I am famous for being quick and impulsive with my friends and family members. I have taken a detour to my work place even though the straight road would have taken me half the time. I have got flowers for my mother on a plain day, without any reason. I have got a drastic haircut just because I felt like. I have cooked experimental food with no prior preparation and liked the whole idea.

And the same me is such a tough task master. And this is not only with me. Even with my students, I push them towards perfection as much as I can. Some respond quickly, some ask for help, some try to improve, and some are the least bothered. It’s not that I am a stern impersonal perfectionist. It’s just that I am not happy with anything but the best. If I am not getting the best, I try to work with the second-best and bring it up in quality. If I can’t be the best, I will at least be different. And I try to make my kids (I refer to my students as “my kids”, even though they are very typical teenagers) understand that getting full marks is not the goal. Knowing what you are writing and trying to add to it is becoming different. And though the position of “first” or “best” is temporal, as every time there is an exam, there will be a new topper, the ones who try differently will find satisfaction.

And this habit of mine makes me a natural non-favourite among the students who have the tendency towards “hall-collection” or “taking help” during examinations. It’s hard to make them understand when all that the parents are concerned about is their grades or ranks or marks, that “what” you get is far less important than “how” you get it. The satisfaction of knowing that each right answer and its marks belong to exclusively you, goes far deeper than the instant joy of getting high marks.

What keeps me going even in this position-oriented system is the enthusiasm and appreciation of my kids who understand the value of being better than what they were. They tell me every time they have achieved something – may be just writing a whole essay without anybody’s help, or explaining a passage in the class comprehending the meaning by themselves – that had I not pushed them harder, they wouldn’t have tried to make themselves better.

And may be this constant reminder that trying-to-be-better is not a crime still makes me hard on my own faults as well even though I take a break every now and then. Just like I play quiz or games with my kids once in a while to keep them energized in this mechanical world.

A Fictional Autobiography

The fields were burnt to black,

Dead meats scattered through the land.

You could see children

Frozen to black

Just outside their huts –

And mothers calling them in frantic.

Just to the right, there you saw some men –

Eyes gorging out as they saw me.

They had heard tales

From their grandmothers,

Of the Black who did death

And chilled with her breath.

It was my first visit

To their pristine roads.

Years I had held on to the black.

Finally, I breathed out.

An Abstract Poem

I wake up to find my child dead beside my bed.

Blood clotting over its heart,

Some poisonous bite it was.

I don’t scream,

I don’t panic.

I had known it all along.

Womb so cursed was wrongly

Blessed with child so true.

God knew His work,

He did it.

And I’m back to my world.

Cold fog shrouding my breath,

I feel the old known damp death.

The few months that were warm

With the love, are now gone.

Gone for good.

I killed with my will,

My smile, my hugs, my kisses.

The love was enough to kill.

My breath is now black again,

My eyes yellow with decay.

And yes, I'm happy now.

I’m back in my death.

"Recreational Death"

So, while having a conversation with A about life, messy life and our messier head, I wondered if the concept of life is over-hyped.

It was just day before yesterday when I was out with D, and after a great lunch and coffee afterwards, we were passing by a magazine stand where she got a business one, and I a political one which was having a free health issue with it. Back home, true to my nature, I skipped the political issue and turned the pages of the health one. The theme of it was “Happiness.” Different people talked about different sources of happiness. But by the time I was halfway through it, I was already bored.

So, it seems that even the topic of “How to be Happy” can’t get my attention for long enough!

Anyway, coming to the conversation with A, she says she’s all messed up in her head. And it just randomly occurred to me that may be we give too much importance to life. To being sincere, honest, responsible, punctual, and all that. Being a teacher, I shouldn’t be saying this stuff. But somehow, it has always occurred to me that being too serious only brings more problems.

But the mind-blowing idea that came to me while talking to A was that of “Recreational Death”. Well, the nomenclature credit goes to her, for I could only describe the phenomenon, and she came up with the very advertise-y name!

If I was bored with living, the daily inhale-exhale process, then I should have the option of choosing a way out, temporarily! Like people take sabbaticals from job. Of course, at first people should try all the various types of activities and live their life and not think about boredom. But what if one gets bored in spite of everything, or rather, because of everything? Where is the option of taking-a-break?

So, there should be a machine or something, which could give us the opportunity to ditch the breathe-in-breathe-out for a few days, but keeping the body alive nonetheless, for when the soul comes back. And then we could carry on, all happy after the soul-vacation!

And in reply, A opined, “Tor matha ta puro geche!”