Maha's musings

When I reached the staffroom, I rang my mom up and told her all about our plans for the day out. She was equally excited but told me that she couldn't join us on that day. I tried in vain to convince her but she didn't budge. It seemed she had bigger fish to fry on that day. It was the first dent to my enthu. I didn't relent though... asked some of the teacher-friends of my age group to join us but they too denied it without giving a second thought.  I felt a bit dejected as there wouldn't be anybody of my age group who could give me company and along with whom I could do funky things. Of course Mrs.Uma and other colleagues are undoubtedly best companions; they had even been my well-wishers and had helped me many a time. But something in me told me that I would be left alone and would be restricted from having wild fun. But I didn't disclose my worries to them. On Tuesday, the day before the BIG DAY , we all gathered for a brief discussion. We were totally eleven . 

"Are you joining us this Wednesday? For a one day trip?", asked Mrs.Uma, one of my senior colleagues cum friend, when I was having my evening tea at the tea point.  That was how it all started.  "One day trip? On Wednesday? But where?", I questioned.  "To Nagapattinam and from there to Velankanni", replied another colleague with sparkling eyes.  For a split second I felt ecstatic, imagining my self wading through the ebbing and flowing waves and building castles in the seashore under the soothingly warm sun. But soon came back to senses and charged them with my questions, "Wednesday? That's only one day. How can we go to those faraway places and come back within a day? Will there be any time left to enjoy?"  "Oh yeah! We can enjoy. Everything has been planned; morning 6:30 we have a train to Nagapattinam which reaches there at 8:30am; from there by a tourist van we reach Velankanni; there we shall straight away go to the beach and have f

My father is so famous in our area that even before reaching the hospital at least two-three uncles would stop us and would enquire us where we were going. My father would answer everyone patiently and would wave back at the random people who had waved at him. Finally when we would reach the hospital, there wouldn't be any patients. Unlike Dr. Suresh's clinic, we had a special privilege. We could call Dr.Sagayam from the antechamber. His clinic was technically a part of his house. He would never deny our calls of distress. Time is immaterial for him. My dad would call out, "Doctor sir...." Within a wink's time there would come his reply... "Coming... coming... Be seated!!!" I had never felt even a speck of irritation in his voice in spite of our untimely disturbances. He would take some 15mins to come out. Until then my dad would be flipping through the pages of the old magazines kept on the brown teapoy; I, a wimpy wompy kid, having nothin

" After a fortnight of sleepless nights, I had a sound sleep last night, thanks to Dr.Suresh, dad" said my sister. "I don't know why... his medicines have way with me, it seems", she added excitedly. "But his medicines would cost you an arm and a leg; young but too money minded; learned but not so experienced." My father contrasted her. As I was out of earshot, I couldn't hear fully but I could hear him concluding, " Whoever may come, Dr.Sagayam is the best."  My memories spiralled back to the childhood days . Dr.SAGAYAM, an integral part of my childhood-- The man clad in white shirt and black pants with his stethoscope dangling around his neck. His stout physique, grim face and bald head with sparse growth of grey hair made him look peculiar.  His clinic was just twenty steps away from my house. It was another peculiarity-- a dimly lit tunnel leading to an antechamber with two wooden benches near the entrance. Unlike Dr.Suresh' clini

Last night I was tossing and turning on the bed. It was quarter past eleven but still I couldn't sleep due to that terrible cold and high temperature. It was horribly draughty outside. I stood up numerous times— once to go to the washbasin to blow my nose, then to draw the window curtain; later to turn on the mosquito repellent; then to this; then to that but they were all in vain.  The worst of all was my stuffy nose. It felt as if I were so many meters deep below the sea level ( that too without any fancy scuba set). Even my throat was out of my league. I started coughing. It went on until my mom lashing out at me for having skipped my after-dinner pills. (My aversion to medicine is unfathomable!!!) Without much ado, I went to the kitchen to take my pills. Those three gray pouches had already been kept on the table for me. I swallowed them mechanically; slurped the hot water from my tumbler and went back to bed. It was half past eleven and I lost my hope of sleeping at least a wi

I didn't stand there any further; wiped my tears and ran to my room. Even when I was getting ready, my eyes didn't stop shedding tears. I was too down to think anything about the very first day of my school. Got ready mechanically, packed the bag with newly wrappered books, rough notebook and a pouch with needed stationery and then left the room.  As it was the very first day of the year, the students went to the warden's cabin to sign the register. When I reached the ground floor, I saw the queue extending till the bin. "Ooph....this too!!" I went and joined them meekly.  When I was about to sign the register, Megala miss was there too, sipping her sizzling coffee. Her scrutinizing eyes went on to see the queue. There were three more girls from the box room to sign. She asked me, "What's your name and room number?" When I replied, she gestured me to stay aside and wait. The remaining three girls signed and left the hostel cheerfully.  For a minute I

I checked my watch. It showed 7:00 am. I was the third in the queue. Each girl in the queue took minimum five minutes. For me it seemed like five solid hours. (Time indeed is the strangest thing in the world. It shrinks and stretches its self as it wishes!)  Finally   when I got my turn, I was overjoyed. It was my very first (coinbox phone) call to my parents that too from a city unknown. I grabbed the receiver, press-dialed our ten digit mobile number. Call went but nobody answered. I heard only the caller tone and then the automated voice response started saying, " The number you are trying to reach is.... " It was heartbreaking beyond any word could express. I started shedding tears. After all, what a 16 year old girl could do at that moment. I felt utterly clueless and abandoned. There was a storm raging in my mind. An array of questions started emerging... "What's my mom doing? Why doesn't she pick the phone? If all the other parents talk, why can't they

The first day of my hostel life!!! The first day of my hostel life!!! How auspiciously special that day seemed to me then.  I still remember (vaguely though) .... Tik titick tik titick... My baby pink alarm clock hooted. Tuttt! I tapped it off, sat up, and rubbed my eyes. My roommates who were still on their beds, threw a disturbed glance at me.  I spread a sheepish grin across my face, clutched my new brush and toothpaste and slipped away to the bathroom to escape their irritated looks.  When I entered the bathroom, I saw two of the girls from the box room – room no.119 already standing there brushing and washing their face. They were different from my room mates. I could feel a strange fondness for them which I couldn't feel for my roommates.  Those two girls were equally tall. One was Divya, a fair skinned girl another was Samyu, a dusky complexioned one . They both were about to leave the bathroom sink after that everyday-ritual of brushing and gargling.  When I rea

THAT GAME CHANGING DAY OF MY LIFE!!! But, the posh HR didn't stop with those three names. He added four more names who performed moderately. They were to take up a quick brief talk-a-minute to prove their spontaneity and fluency. I was surprisingly one of those four.  We glanced sideways at one another. Those four seemed as surprised as I did. The HR started explaining again. This time he was briefer and more concise than the last time. We four were waiting for the topic for the "TALK-A-MINUTE".  But he ended thus, " So... There you go... All set... For a minute.... Mahalakshmi, B.A.English. you can talk on ANYTHING!!! "  It was totally unexpected. I could feel the heat of the hour. My lips were on the verge of betraying me again. I was functioning as though out of some reflex action.  I couldn't figure out any remarkable thing about which I could talk for a minute. There was a battle going on in my mind. One thing my buffering brain told me. &qu

Group Discussion (stage-1)  We were thus waiting for the topic to be announced for 5-10 minutes. That was the most annoying period of my life time. Each minute took eternity to elapse. We ten were utterly clueless about what was going to happen. The ambiance was maddeningly calm. Finally the topics were announced at the same time to all the eight groups.  We got "The role of mass media in the growth of our nation". My brain took a couple of minutes to process the related data; hands rushed to take out the notepad and pen; but my mouth! those pair of freaking lips, betrayed me for a minute as if they were glued invisibility.   The most crucial minute— the beginning minute... "The one who kick-starts the GD will have advantage. Don't miss that!!!" — the first rule read out by the HR was resonating in my mind. But I couldn't open my mouth.  It was humiliating. I felt all the ten pairs of eyes, frowning at me. Obviously for hurdling the smooth beginn

THE MAN OF POSH LOOKS!!! " Group no.4!" , I heard a throaty voice announcing from nowhere. Turning around, I saw a man in solid navy blazer with gray slacks approaching us clutching a sealed envelope in one hand and a mic in the other. His wax polished loafers gave him an extremely formal look. His walk was slow paced, sporting a tinge of pride. Though he didn't tell anything straightaway, I could feel his cynical mind asking us, "will you all get through this round?" That was more than enough to fuel the fear of uncertainty in my mind.  I just blinked away and surveyed my fellow members of the "GROUP NO.4". They were of mixed expressions— some were visibly nervous, some were undoubtedly confident; some were even admiring his posh looks.  Coming back to my senses, I felt a sudden rush of fear and did my best to hide it with a meek smile which betrayed me as usual. Finally, he reached the dais on which we had been gathered in a semicircular

 First ever interview It was by the end of the third year undergraduation, that eye-opening incident took place. It was the first ever interview I had ever appeared for — one of the most famous companies in South India. All our professors motivated us to take part in that (as it was an on-campus interview). Technically NERDY ME registered for the same within a wink's time.  The sleepless anxious previous night made me toss and turn on the bed visualising the scene of recieving the call letter from our principal's hand and posing with pride for the photographs to be published in our college magazine.  I was undoubtedly nervous on the day of the interview as it was the very first time I was about to do something serious for my career that too on my own.  Nevertheless I woke up early in the morning (with puffy eyes though). Got ready; went through some books; skimmed the daily; chomped on some bread slices; bade bye-byes and boarded the bus. There in college, some of

Life had ever been whimsical for me as a literature student; every day would be a day of endless fun and adventure. After all the twelve suffocating years of schooling, I chose English literature as my career. As always nobody was there to hurdle my path. It's always"YOUR LIFE YOUR WAY" kind of parenting that my mom and dad provide me (conditions applied, though) The initial days of under graduation were carefree and comforting. The professors were empathetic too. I was undoubtedly happy with that newly gained freedom. How proud I felt, to be called a literature student! How humiliating it was when I accidently responded "present MISS" instead of "present MA'AM" to the roll call!  Freshers'day, sports day, culturals, seminars, conferences, expos, farewell party, this that and everything filled our hearts besides filling our mobile galleries. Months rolled by; cycle tests occured; semesters approached; holidays passed. But I remained

Dear 2k21, You were a path full of roses with splinters then and there . You taught me life's lessons in weird ways. You trained me not only to survive but also to live and seize each day of my life -- let that be inside the four walls of the house or out of it. You were not less than a roller coaster ride.  You gave me some amazingly awesome people who made me laugh, think, sometimes even to lash out at them. They even helped me in widening my horizons. All those brief moments of joy; some tears of happiness; pinch of disappointments and setbacks with perfect tinge of resilience, you are in toto, a mixture of everything.  You gifted me with loads of memories to cherish; people to remember and some laurels to adorn my crown. You pulled me out of my comfort zones and showed me what I am capable of. You even proved me wrong many a time.  I learnt how important it is to hold on and to push my self to the limits to taste success. You let me understand how a single word uttered thoughtl