Maha's musings

It was an ordinary day. With usual anticipation for a good day, I entered the staffroom. It was buzzing with activity. Some were correcting the papers, some were having their breakfast, some were doing something that couldn't be recognised. Teachers entered and exited with wrapped record notebooks tailed by random grade-12 students. All looked equally serious and solemn.  As I kept the bag on my table, I heard the bell. Since it was a revision day, I had to be in the classroom on time. Being late by five minutes, I had to rush, grabbing the books and needed stuff. As I left the staffroom for my classroom, I saw some grade-11 students loitering in the corridor uncannily. I gestured them to enter the class as I passed by.  One of the boys came from the crowd sticking his hand out as if to give me a handshake. Despite being unaware of the reason, I gave a mild handshake with a doubtful smile, asking for the reason.  "I read your article in the newspaper in the hostel this morning

"Yeah! It happened three days ago. When we started spotting mouse droppings nearby our entrance continuously for a week, we couldn't help feeling disgusted. So I asked my mom to do something to get rid of that invisible mouse. Soon we embarked on the mission of killing that. Rat poison was brought. My dad, being an expert in demonstrating how to work with all the products that are present in his shop started explaining how to trap the mouse to taste the poison. It didn't sound so cruel to me by then.  After all the ecosystem itself is modelled in such a way. Rodents are vulnerable creatures in the chain. Though they help us in many ways, we can't stand their mischiefs. We ultimately choose to kill them.  So without much ado, I listened to my dad's Lecdem. As my dad instructed, I grabbed a ripe tomato, sliced it into pieces, brushed the poison on either side of each slice and placed them in various dingy areas— under the staircase, below the topmost railing, beneath

Last evening, Pongal cleaning was underway. I was busy plying the pitchers downstairs to wash the steps, the next morning.  "Mahaaa...." Came my mom's shriek with a tremor, when the pitcher was halfway through to be full. It was so ominous that I closed the water tap in a jiffy and went rushing to her. When I climbed down a flight of stairs, I saw my mom standing puzzled looking at the cardboard box in which we keep our slippers. The broomstick in her hand had been wet. I could spot a weird sense of distress in her face besides a muggy smell wafting from the box, that made me cringe my face.  "Mmmaaa...Wwwhat?...." I asked matching her tension drenched voice.  "See this atrocity!", said my mom without the usual life in her voice. I climbed down further to peep into the box. To my annoyance, the box had been holed in the bottom and the slippers had been spread across the floor clumsily. For a split second I couldn't make out anything. When I peered

No matter how much people get disappointed with Bollywood, it has never ceased to satisfy an ardent lover of drama films like me.  Let that be "Thappad" which shows how a wife who is ill-treated by her husband, stands out for her self-respect; "English Vinglish" which shows an Indian homemaker's longing to master the Lingua Franca(English) despite being ridiculed by her husband; "Nil Battey Sannata" which talks about a mother who dreams her daughter's future; "Queen" which teaches that women can be happy despite being single; "Dum laga ke haisha" which teaches that love conquers looks and a handful of other sports drama films. In this lengthy list comes, Kangana Ranaut starer "Panga"(2020) .  Panga means "to pay back", "to retribute".  It is based on the real life story of a Kabaddi player and former Indian women's team captain who had to let go her dreams and aspi