Candy Man by Roald Dahl

My brother and I love Roald Dahl. We have read all of his books ranging from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Matilda, The BGF, James and the Giant Peach to The Twits, Esio Trot, and many more! 

One phrase- we love Dahl. He is one of the best children's author, and I till today love and enjoy his books. Another thing I loved is the illustrations by Quentin Blake. But, what I love more is the poems by Dahl. I have already shared a poem 'Television' by him. Here's another fun one on the Candy-Man Willy Wonka from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Who can take a sunrise, sprinkle it with dew

Cover it in chocolate and a miracle or two

The candy man, the candy man can

The candy man can 'cause he mixes it with love

And makes the world taste good

Who can take a rainbow, wrap it in a sigh

Soak it in the sun and make a strawberry–lemon pie

The candy man?

The candy man, the candy man can

The candy man can 'cause he mixes it with love

And makes the world taste good

Willy Wonka makes everything he bakes

Satisfying and delicious

Talk about your childhood wishes

You can even eat the dishes

Who can take tomorrow, dip it in a dream

Separate the sorrow and collect up all the cream

The candy man, Willy Wonka can, the candy man can

The candy man can 'cause he mixes it with love

And makes the world taste good

And the world tastes good'

Cause the candy man thinks it should!

Hope you enjoyed it! Which is your favourite book of Roald Dahl? Share it in the comments!

The Process of Thinking

A lot of who I am today is because of my school, as I have previously told in several of my posts. There was a brilliant system in place that pushed us to think, be creative, and produce genuine work however shoddy or error-ridden it might be initially. We were allowed to try our hand, and add a dash of our own colours to everything we did or learnt. All forms of art, expression, academic interests were equally supported, and that made us all so confident to 'be ourselves'.

Giving importance and acknowledging the thought that a child has put behind the work he or she submits can change the whole way we are moulded to think. I am not restricting myself to creative arts, music, painting, dancing, and the likes. Not at all. I have seen teachers who have appreciated kids for approaching a math problem from a innovative or different angle even though the final answer on the paper might not have been the right one! Reprimanding for a wrong answer when the method was actually to be appreciated can make the child stop trying to think innovatively, and instead might push the child to just stick to the traditional methods to avoid the possibility of mistakes. 

This taught us that to think about the process, and be innovative in the process and how we approach a subject is more important than thinking just about the results. In fact, innovative results are a mere consequence of an innovative thought process. So, when they focused on the right thing, we learnt the right lessons.

I agree that at the end of the day we all want results. Nobody cares how you did something. What we want is results that work. But, we should reserve such an attitude to probably professional activities where results are of the highest importance to everybody involved, and there are goals to be met. However, with children and young creative artists- it is important to teach them the right lessons, nurture and help them grow as thinking individuals, and also for us to look at their work with the right lens.

So, as teachers, as parents, as sisters and brothers, as fellow human beings who see the work of each other and comment on it- we should first look into what work, what process, what thoughts go into something, and give it as much weight, if not more, as you give to the end result!

As the picture says: think, innovate, be yourself. I thank my school and my parents for teaching me that!

A True Artist (In My Imagination)

I am not great at sketching. Probably because I rarely draw, and I have very less patience. The enthusiasm with which I start sketching frizzles out in a while, and then I'm in a rush to just get done with it. Oops, sounds like just how it shouldn't be! But sketching is also a lot of fun. 

I sketch once in a while, and it's usually simple things in my memory. For example, you can see my sketch that I've put up with this post. It was just one out of the experiences that I had in Mumbai last year- with a lot of ice golas and desserts in it! The drawing definitely (and obviously) looks unpolished because the artist is a highly unpolished one. But, the main point that I'm trying to make is: it is a lot of fun to just recreate your own sweet memory! 

Do you remember how in The Little Prince the pilot, in his childhood, attempts to draw and is discouraged by adults because they thought he wasn't really good enough at it? Remember: don't let them steal your magnificent career as a painter and an artist, at least in your imagination.

Sometimes, we do things just because they were momentarily fun to do, and not because we are passionate about it, or think that we have a career in it, or because we are good at it. Simply, we like it. If not all the time, we enjoy it at least that one day or one hour that we do it. And, we don't do it often, but that one-off time is still happy enough! One such things is sketching for me. I cannot call it a hobby, I cannot call it a talent, and yet I do it sometimes and it makes me happy!

I drew this on Adobe Sketch. Do you have that one-off activity that you really enjoy? How do you like my (undoubtedly brilliant) sketch? Let me know in the comments below! 

"Fifteen Men On The Dead Man's Chest"

Jim Hawkins is in the company of lunatic seamen, hungry for treasure, and Flint screams at them with a "Fetch me rum; Darby!", and the other sing their screams of:

Fifteen men on a dead man's chest

Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum

Drink and the devil had done for the rest

Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

And, the ten year old me couldn't wait to scream along with the chorus of 'Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum'. Every time I picked the book, I was transported into the world of Hawkins, Flint, Trelawney, Billy Bones, Black Dog, Long John Silver and Ben Gunn. Till date, I remember the exact words with which Flint was tricked to death- an ingenious Ben Gunn mimicking Flint's “Darby M’Graw! Darby M’Graw! Fetch me rum; Darby!” 

After a long time, a conversation with a friend today reminded us of all the 'non-detailed prescribed readings' we had in school as part of the curriculum. We've had Treasure Island, Merchant of Venice and other plays of Shakespeare, books of Ruskin Bond, short stories of O. Henry and Oscar Wilde, The Story of My Life by Helen Keller, Silas Marner by Eliot- and I think Treasure Island was our favourite amongst these. 

The original title of the book was actually "The Sea Cook" - for Long John Silver, placing him as the main villain and central character of the book. But, later the name was changed to Treasure Island. It has to be said that out of all the villains I have met in the wide range of fiction that I have consumed, Long John Silver is definitely the most charming, witty villain ever. 

Who doesn't love a cool pirate story filled with adventure, fights, treasure, an island that looks like a "fat dragon standing up", the sea, some rum, a lot of apple barrels, and an escape plan! Stevenson takes you through a ride that is an unforgettable experience, and would still keep you excited about it, a decade after reading it! Hispaniola and its crew will leave you with a treasure hoard of memories. 

If you haven' t read it, please do! You are guaranteed an adventure you'll love every second. 

Haircut Episodes with Mr. Bean

What comes to my mind when I first think about a haircut, especially cutting my own hair? Mr. Bean. Mr. Bean has done it all. And, the confidence I have on myself is the confidence I have on Mr. Bean. Well today, I tried to cut bangs by myself (and it turned out fine), but all I could think of was the two crazy Bean episodes- one from the animated series, and the other where Rowan Atkinson performs.

Have you seen that episode in the animated series of Mr. Bean where he decides to cut his own hair? Well, that was the first thing that came to my mind when I thought about trying to chop my hair. And, that's not exactly a great first thought! The episode is titled The Haircut. Well, you don't know whether this one encourages or discourages you to get an eccentric cut. Because, one it shows how wrong it can go, and two it shows that people actually love wrong styles which seem to be done on purpose!

Do you remember the other episode in the Mr. Bean played by Rowan Atkinson, where he tries to cut other people's hair. In that episode, he cuts the hair of a small boy by tracing the perimeter of an inverted bowl that he places on the boy's head, and chops off the entire pony tail of a man who just wants his split ends trimmed. The episode is called Haircut Bean. 

Mr. Bean is the best. This is one show we can never get tired of watching and re-watching. I spent 20 minutes watching those episodes today, and what a laugh! Also, what a scare! Anyway, I successfully trimmed by split ends and also cut my bangs, without Bean-level-experiences. 

Miss watching Bean? Has it been years? I have given the links to both the episodes! Have a fun Thursday!

Clothesline by Charlotte Druitt Cole

Washing clothes is a necessary part of all our lives, and so is hanging them to dry on the clothesline. They are a thing of daily observation to many of us. Here is a poem by Charlotte Druitt Cole- a sweet one that brings us a well-known picture of the clothesline from a cheery angle. 

We had this poem in school as a part of English classes, and we had to recite it without looking for our internals. I still remember every word of it, and tried to write it from memory (verified it later, though). Poems like these- simple, in observation and in rhyme- stay with us forever.

Hand in hand they dance in a row,
Hither and thither, and to and fro,
Flip! Flap! Flop! and away they go—
Flutt’ring creatures as white as snow,
Like restive horses they caper and prance;
Like fairy-tale witches they wildly dance;
Rounded in front, but hollow behind,
They shiver and skip in the merry March wind.
One I saw dancing excitedly,
Struggling so wildly till she was free,
Then, leaving pegs and clothes-line behind her,
She flew like a bird, and no one can find her.
I saw her gleam, like a sail, in the sun,
Flipping and flapping and flopping for fun.
Nobody knows where she now can be,
Hid in a ditch, or drowned in the sea.
She was my handkerchief not long ago,
But she’ll never come back to my pocket, I know.

I also remember that this was the first time we were introduced to alliterations as a figure of speech, for the phrase 'flipping and flapping and flopping for fun'. Alliterations were an instant hit with students, and we constantly tried to make alliterations in posters and other projects to make them sound more catchy. I think that is why grammar was always introduced to us through poetry or a story. Long after it is gone, we still remember what we learnt and why. 

Hope you liked the poem! Do you distinctly remember anything you learnt in school that you can still reproduce? Share your story in the comments!

Letter Writing In School

Do you all remember middle school and high school English? We were made to write a bunch of different letters, notices, messages, emails, and make posters, take notes, all under the broad head of ‘writing skills’? I don’t know about the rest of you, but letter writing was my favourite. 

Every year, every teacher told me that my letter was different, smart, innovative, and nice. However, what they didn’t know was the crux of what they found interesting in the letter was literally the same every year! Totally unlike a creative writer, Sandhya exercised her creativity in letter writing just once or twice in her whole school life. One idea was just improvised, recycled, and circulated in exam papers across my progressive years in high school. And since each time the correction was done by a different teacher, they always found the idea new and interesting. 

My best friend from school laughed at it every single time, and so did I. Once I was praised so much in front of the class, and the teacher asked me to read it aloud to the entire class because she found it very interesting. When I finished reading and came back to my seat, my friend nudged me and whispered in my ear: “Pray the next teacher won’t ask you to read next year.”

Though I flexed my creativity in other forms of writing skills such as story writing and posters, I stuck to this predetermined format that I had for letter writing. It was the exact same peripheral content every letter, with just the core issue changing according to the question asked. I followed the exact same strategy for my letter writing exercises in Tamizh also. As Calvin would put it, I did manipulate the system to nail the letter writing part of the question paper. 

Till very recently, I have tried to fix what I wanted to write in a format that has already worked before, just customizing it according to the person I am sending it to. Somehow, this usually works for letters and emails. But, off late, I have learnt to write an email decently without referring to a format. I guess it comes with practice. School has some of my most treasured memories, both big and small ones, that will stay with me forever. 

If you have any fun memories of writing letters, do share them in the comments below!

Chimes With Tinkle

The month's copy of Tinkle arrives, and there is frantic page turning till the one-page Suppandi jokes are read, re-read as you double up with laughter, the happiness reaching your heart and eyes, and then you go to your Mom, Dad, brother and everyone else and share the joke, and they laugh too.

Tinkle is never read in a definite order by anyone. We all had our favourite picks and we went to those stories first. We couldn't help ourselves from getting to our favourite ones before we read the rest of it! So, here's my list of constant, evergreen, lovable superstars who gave most of us such a wonderful childhood with beaming eyes and riotous laughs!

1. Suppandi. There is not a single person who has read Tinkle and doesn't like Suppandi! His stupidity is just too adorable. And, baby Suppandi stories were just too, too cute and funny. Best, and the one that gets the first attention when a Tinkle copy arrives. 

2. Pyarelal and Lajo. These two kind-hearted village couple from Hastipur were my most favourite. I just loved the Pyarelal stories too much. And, Pyarelal to me was way too pyaara. I would love the way Lajo, fond for Lajiwanti, Pyarelal's wife, used to make him his favourite Jackfruit curry with so much zest, and I loved the way Pyarelal always talked to his wife about all the problems and they solved it together, and also how he always made small gifts for her like swings and garden. These characters were too genuine and innocently beautiful for me to not fall in love with!

3. Shikari Shambu. Dream of snoring away to glory, and hitting jackpot of luck, rewards and praise? That's Shikari Shambu for you. A sleepy and scared misfit forest officer always finds himself being praised and lauded while the wild animals he was supposed to trap keep running into self made traps as he sleeps before them. What's not to love about a good Shambu story!

4. Tantri the Mantri. Raja Hooja, the naive and laddu-loving desi king, and his sinsiter mantri Tantri is all that is necessary for a good entertainment. Seeing every planned plotting of Tantri to dethrone Raja Hooja backfire beautifully for reasons the crop up from nowhere was the best feeling ever! This was one hilariously fun series!

These were the absolute favourites, but I also used to like Nasruddid Hodja, Ina, Mina, Mynah, Mo, and Defective Detectives a lot. There were also many favourites from the stand-alone single stories that featured every month. The only comic series that I never liked, for some reason that I never figured out what, was Janoo and Wooly Woo. 

Tinkle was doubtlessly one of the best things we have grown up with! Have an old Tinkle at home? Pick it up, and read them again! If not, check out Tinkle Online!

"I beg you- please, play me fair!"

My close friend, from school, and I were not really people who tensed up before an exam. In fact, we had a chilled out policy- if you studied there's nothing to worry about, if you didn't there's definitely nothing to worry about! So, we always took the exam in a very relaxed manner, and mostly never discussed the paper after the exam, because why trouble yourself realizing your mistakes! And, we had a standard reply at home. 

How did the Maths test go? It went great.

How did the Science test go? It went great.

How did the Social test go? It went great. 

And, English?  Great, of course. 

My brother was worse. If my mom asked him how he wrote his paper, he'd reply 'using my pen/hand'. So, there was never a debate about anything until the scores came, and then it was a one-hour talk till the report card went back to the teacher (hehehe).

During our Class XII was the first ever time we felt a little that we must be pretty serious about studying, and that too for around three months from January of the Board year, because if we didn't get through a competitive exam then the score would matter. But, once again, when I entered the University, I went back to the 'chill-policy'. I make a point to plan and study (like I talked about in my post on 5 things that help me in college), but I never get tensed. 

On this note, here's a fun poem by my close friend, Priyanka, that she wrote during our high school!

Every day we inch closer,

Thinking 'bout you 

makes my heart beat faster,

Just your name makes me jittery all over,

O Lord! Make the evening go slower!

You- I badly wanna forget,

But only stronger and stronger

in my thoughts you get, 

I beg you- please, play me fair,

Annuals, you are giving me a scare!

And, for a lot of people, exams do give a scare. It's nature to some people to get worried, but it can be consciously toned down by practice and an aware decision to try to stay cool whatever happens. However, this in no way means that you can fool yourself to think the scores will be fine, because they can't be fine unless you worked enough to deserve them. But there is only so much you can do on the day of the exam or one day before, and that is to stay calm and cool. Wrap up your books, have your meal, drink water, chill and write to the best of what you know. If not the results, at least your mind and experience through your exam will be much better!

Also, check out this cute fan-poem we wrote as we resided in the world of Harry Potter around Class VII: If you go to Hogwarts... School and school friends bring way too many happy memories for me!

Slam Book (More Like Sham Book)

Slam books were a thing when I was around Class V/VI. They were important because it shows how much you knew about your friends, and also because generally it was a cool thing for a kid to have around that time. Eleven year old Sandhya also obviously kept up with the trend and owned one!

For those who aren't aware what a slam book is, here's the Wikipedia definition:

"A slam book is a notebook (commonly the spiral-bound type) which is passed among children and teenagers. The keeper of the book starts by posing a question (which may be on any subject) and the book is then passed round for each contributor to fill in their own answer to the question." 

What lies we all wrote! We all wrote anything and everything that made us look that much cooler. I still have my slam book where so many of my friends have written the weirdest, funniest things, and we have a good laugh over it now and then! Slam books can be a treasure to rediscover the most bizarre dreams we had as children. Not one entry said they wanted to be an engineer, or doctor, or lawyer slogging off in a nine-to-nine workplace. I had friends who had dreams of becoming artists, painters, singers, dancers, magicians, scientists, actors, writers, businessmen, fashion designers, models, astronauts, wizards, and what not! Just a look at it makes us smile! 

Till a couple of years back, I have often picked up the slam book to trace the phone number of a friend not on social media. All the numbers that I used to have in the slam book were landline numbers since we never had a mobile till class eleven or twelve, and most of the landlines still work!

I have often heard that slam books were also used as a medium to write mean, anonymous comments about other kids, and thinking back it is true that such a thing could have been possible. However, I am glad and thankful that no such bullying ever happened through a slam book to me or any of my friends when we were kids. 

To me, slam books are a happy memory that take us back into the slap-happy dreams of ourselves ten years ago!

The Bald Cavalier

Today, I rediscovered a wonderful, wonderful, poem that we were taught in Class V from my treasure trove of chaotic notes. A simple one, yet one that makes you smile! I had to share it! The author of the poem is unknown, but the poem was titled 'The Bald Cavalier' in our poetry textbook. Happy reading!

When periwigs came first in wear,

Their use was to supply

And cover the bald pate with hair,

To keep it warm and dry.

For this good end, our Cavalier

Determined one to buy,

Which did so natural appear

That it deceived the eye.

But riding out one windy day,

Behold! a sudden squall

Soon blew his feathered hat away,

And periwig and all.

He joined the laugh with noddle bare,

And sang in concert tone,

"How should I save another's hair,

Who could not keep my own?"

To take upon oneself a joke,

Good humour shows and wit,

Which may a second laugh provoke,

And leave the biter bit.

The moral is such an important one, and it is necessary in life 'to leave the biter bit'. I remember how much I loved it when I was taught this, and reading this today made me smile doubly wide- thanks to the lovely poem and the memories it brings!

I hope you enjoyed the poem!

A Slice Of Poetry And Life

My second language in school was always Tamizh- from class one to ten. Ten years of exposure into the language, and we still used to make so many spelling errors, and read a little slowly, at least most of us. Though hours on end was spent memorizing for my Tamizh exams, the classes and the learning were always fun.

I really enjoyed many of the pieces of poetry that we read through our syllabus in school. Tamizh is a beautiful language, and there have been stalwarts who played with its beauty in the most mesmerizing, meaningful manner. One of my most favourite poems is a poem written by Andagakavi Veeraraghavar which is a standing example of the beauty and richness of the language.

When I was in class nine, we were given an assignment to portray a personality through a recital of something famous they did or any characteristic dialogues by them. I had chosen Bharatiyar, or fondly Bharati, who was also known as 'Mahakavi' for being the torch bearing pioneer of modern Tamil poetry. I recited the poem below for my project. This is one of his most classic, famous poems, and I have attempted to translate the broad meaning for those who do not know Tamizh- though my translation does no justice to the poem. 

தேடிச் சோறுநிதந் தின்று - பல

சின்னஞ் சிறுகதைகள் பேசி - மனம்

வாடித் துன்பமிக உழன்று - பிறர்

வாடப் பலசெயல்கள் செய்து - நரை

கூடிக் கிழப்பருவ மெய்தி - கொடுங்

கூற்றுக் கிரையெனப்பின் மாயும் - பல

வேடிக்கை மனிதரைப் போலே - நான்

வீழ்வே னென்று நினைத் தாயோ?

Scavenging for food and feeding yourself every day, chit-chatting around and gossiping through many stories, getting disappointed and tossing over a plethora of troubles that come on the way, also acting in ways that disappoint others, hairs graying slowly and growing old, dying after a spell of life with much slandering, like so many men who live their lives this way- did you think that I'd fall prey to their ways?

The word "kootru" on the third last line has two meanings- one, slanders or utterances, and two, the death God Yama in Hindu mythology. So, Bharati plays with the language and talks of a death after a life harsh utterances and the death after the arrival of the fearful death God Yama.

Back in 2004, my father and his friend, both ardent fans of Bharati, were discussing this very poem, and as my father fondly recalls, their friendship "blossomed over this conservation". My dad's friend, Rakesh Vaidyanathan uncle, went back after the conversation only to unleash his strand of creativity- with a simple and yet very beautiful translation of this poem by Bharati that you can read here.

Search in despair for their daily bread,
gossip trivials and rumors spread,
sad in mind and suffer much pain,
inflict suffering on others in vain,
grow old and feeble, wrinkled and grey,
die and dis-appear, as destiny's prey
funny men, so silly and ill,
fall like them, you fancied, I will?

Bharati was a man way ahead of his time- someone bold enough to not change his ways for others, unabashed to talk truth, and a great visionary and reformer. The teacher liked my recital a lot, and I was one of the people who got shortlisted through the class activity to see a live Tamizh stage play. Later on, I went to write a review of it in Tamizh, and also was one of the five winners of the best reviews. 

It is a sweet memory. Tamizh teachers in school are some of my favourite! And I will forever remember our fun during Tamizh classes in school!

Fangirling Forever Over The Queen Of Crime

Murder On The Orient Express. Agatha Christie. This first ever crime fiction that I stumbled upon also paved the way to what would soon become a lovable addiction, thanks to Christie who turned my world of books around with this genre! 

My life, for all through my late middle-school and high-school, revolved around the charming, strong gossip-detective Jane Marple, and the Belgian genius with his egg-shaped head and brilliant grey cells, not to forget the accented mon ami. The curious Harley Quinn, and the coolest espionage and detective sleuths Tommy and Tuppence were enough to send me spinning into a world of genteel detectives uncovering the poisonings, stabbings, and the other ravenously executed murders- all without the unnecessary jumps, kicks, punches of your standard, average thriller hero. What a beauty! I was instantly sold on this genre. 

The exact same thing happened with my brother too. I cannot describe to you what an absolute pleasure it is to have an ally for an author in the house. When my brother came on board, I realized for the first time that we had enjoyable, slightly bifurcated niche fandom inside the vast spectrum of Christie's crimes. We loved all her books, but to some- we were partial and lent absolute loyalty. While my brother is an all-time Poirot guy, I lean impishly towards my Jane Marple crimes. While my brother loved the elite, eerie ones with the silent killings of a poison, I loved the ones where there is brutal murder with contradicting possibilities. A suicide like murder, or a murder like suicide? One wound suggests a man, and the other suggests a woman- who did it?

For the longest time, my dad was genuinely concerned on my replies that I want to become like Tuppence when asked about what I was interested to pursue. Hahaha, can't blame him. And, for the longest time, I was so into Christie's world of crime and these mind-boggling detectives, that I forgot there was Christie who actually wrote them. The realization kind of hit me that all the brilliance of Poirot, Marple, Quinn, Tommy, Tuppence- put together was the brilliance of one. And, since that day I am an ardent fangirl of her, and shall be forever. 

Recently, I saw CrimeRead's article "The Binge-Read: 10 Iconic Crime Fiction Series of The 1960s" that obviously caught my attention, and also demanded an almost click-bait presence with immediate reading. It dawned upon me, that I had rarely read much crime outside Christie, except a few stray ones like The Mystery Of The Yellow Room. I was triggered when I saw the first book of the article: From Doon With Death by Ruth Rendell! I had heard so much about this book, and still never got to read it. 

Now, having purchased a copy immediately, this classic piece awaits me, and I am already caught on an irresistible start of 30 pages into it. If you have never tried one, I bet you start with the same thing I did- Murder On The Orient Express by Agatha Christie. 

Also, don't you think women crime authors give an extra wow-factor?

Whims and Fancies Of An Ethereal Childhood

I don't really write poems, not my domain. However, the NaPoWriMo prompt of today (Day 4) reminded me the one dream-imagery that dominated most of my childhood. The moment I read it I was thrown back to cherishing that slaphappy memory, so I wrote something about it anyway, whether you'd classify it as a poem or not.

The prompt: to write a poem based on an image from a dream.

Drops of heavy rain fall hard,

there is a knock on the door,

the middle of night.

Heart pounds fast, 

the thought of it

numbing, in excitement.

Eleventh birthday, they said, 

and the unending wait had 

come to cease.

The knock, again.

Heart pounds faster,

the wind whistles the tune of hope,

the hoot of an owl builds up

the nearing time.

Not one more civilized knock,

but a knocked down door.

A wet, giant Hagrid stands 

clueless, eyes darting in search

of the little girl.

'Congrats, kid. Happy birthday!'

he booms.

'Sandhya- yer a wizard.'

There is silence.

Only the whistling wind,

could be heard.

Anyone who knew me around my middle school times can vouch for a fact that I went around saying I'd deny the most prestigious institution any day only to get acceptance from Hogwarts. It was my happy place, and many thanks to J. K. Rowling for that beautiful story that made us all yearn to get in. I was so carried away by the story that I actually believed that on my eleventh birthday I would actually get into Hogwarts. I even did the base of lecturing my mom as an attempt to convince her into sending me to Hogwarts. Ah, that was an acceptable disappointment. And, thanks to my wonderful friends, the long dream was finally fulfilled on my 19th birthday! Thanks to all of you who let me have my whims and fancies of an ethereal childhood with Harry Potter and the world of books!

The Snow Gel Queen Demands Her Tribute

Happiness was at it's best when we were in school. In the final years of my primary schooling, towards the end term of my fifth standard life, there came a life-turning point. It was a significant one- one that would mould my preference and dominate for the rest of my school years, still does in college, and would probably do through the rest of my life. A bunch of ten-year-olds excitedly bid adieu to term two of Class V. When we returned after that short term break of ten days, we were to return as those who were going to take that first step into what seemed like a 'grown-ups' life. In the third term of Class V, we graduated from a pencil to a pen. Yes, a pen.

Our school had a rule that you could use only a gel pen or an ink pen. Ball pens were strictly prohibited until Class VIII. The class was in two factions- those who wrote with their fancy ink pens, and those with the gel pens. Actually, there was a third faction too- the ones that bought only and only Trimax.

Class V was an exciting phase with a full-on pen exploration undertaken by all the kids. My first ink pen was a classic green Camlin ink pen. Well, it pretty soon turned out that it didn't work that well for me. There were hoards of other famous ones like Jumbo and Camel that others used. The ultimate favourite ink pen that, as kids, we went frenzy about was Grippy, an ink pen with a new comic designed body. Out of the 35 in my class, 30 of us had it, whether we liked ink pens or not. It was just a cult necessity. There were those few who showed off their Parkers, and a few others stuck to their Luxor stick pens. But then later, I found that I didn't like ink pens at all much, and then I diverged out to explore gel pen options.

And, then came a phase of Pelicans, Pilot, and Trimax. They were the top of the game. With an amazing flow, and pen caps that somersault, Trimax was an instant favourite for all of us. But the common issue among all of them was that they were expensive. Thirty rupees for a pen, and eighteen rupees for a refill. We found that the ink was gone in a week, for all the notes that we took down. We set out to find cheaper alternatives. 

That was the period of the discovery of Snow Gel and Reynolds Racer Gel in our lives. Again, all the Grippys, Trimax, Pelicans were duly replaced by the five-rupee Snow Gel that lasted for over two weeks. True, the caps didn't somersault. But hey, they came in so many colours!

I was always a gel pen girl, but that's only till the end of Class VI. The most rebellious thing we ever did in school was to use a ball pen before Class VIII. Woah, wow, what cool kids, and what a wondrous life! Right? It was fun to sneak in one paper written in all ball, amongst those other papers written in ink and gel! Later, when my brother went through the same phase in school, I was strictly warned by my parents not to teach him such wrong lessons. 

To date, I am a ball-pen girl. And I positively love those three/four/five rupee pens. In my opinion, drawn from my extensive experience from experimentation, they work the best! Their flow is just brilliant, they are absolutely cost-effective, and they last for a decently long period. Also, bonus points, they don't break if you drop, they don't ever leak, and you don't feel that guilty if you lose them (though you should, losing is bad), or someone whom you lent it to didn't return it. 

When I see someone taking notes with a pencil during lectures at the University, I am always reminded of this. Today, I was looking for a pencil to mark something on my notebook, and again was reminded of this. 

As the Snow Gel Queen demands her tribute, I present to you this post- the adventures of happy 10-year olds who decided the faction of pens they belonged to!

Give Yourself Goosebumps

Series: Goosebumps

Author: R. L. Stine

R. L. Stine was a great children's author. He knew exactly what his target readers wanted, and we got it. 

This is not a book review. This is just a reminiscent piece about a book that dominated a lot of my childhood reading in school. I was never a fan of Goosebumps for a long time. What was supposed to be a children's horror story in the series, was at the most just disgusting, not at all one bit scary. But, the boys in my class loved it. There was set in my class that looked down upon the people who read Famous Five instead of Goosebumps (Blyton is better any day, duh, come on, whom were they kidding)! But, Goosebumps was one of the first books that I came across where you could maneuver the story. Yes, nothing but the famous Give Yourself Goosebumps series. 

I came across an article on Brainpickings that reminded me of this, and hence the post. Have to admit, I enjoyed the Give Yourself Goosebumps series like no other. We would try and take the stories as dangerously as possible, and try not to get killed in the end. They were called game books. Sitting there, and making that choice at the bottom of the page as to which page to proceed next, I swear we felt like we were making a top secretive, important billion-dollar decision that the world depended on. 

Goosebumps was a weird series. But the Give Yourself Goosebumps series was plain fun. I rarely came across other books that incorporated such a style. It was new, fun and different. 

Also, thinking back now, that must have been one nice challenge to write a book like. Where any page that your reader chose across the book, they had a logical flow and conclusion. If I attempted something of the sort, it would be ambitious. R. L. Stine was a great children's author. He knew exactly what his target readers wanted, and we got it. 

Rushing through those corridors leading to the library to grab the most wanted Give Yourself Goosebumps series book is still a fond memory!

Author's Chair

We had a beautiful intra-class contest in school every year during our primary schooldays: Author's Chair. We all had to write one story and one poem, and our English teacher used to read all of them over a few days, and declare a winner, a runner, and a commendable piece under each of those two categories. And, the ones selected got to wear a crown, sit on the "Author's Chair" and read out their poem or story to the whole class. 

I wrote my first story in Class IV for Author's Chair. I still remember us waiting expectantly, with bated breaths, to see if our story or poem would make the cut. My class IV English teacher was one of the most favourite teachers in school, and I remember how much I wanted a word of praise from her. I had worked so hard on my piece. While my poem didn't make it, my story won. I still so fondly remember walking up proudly, wearing a crown, and reading out my first written story on the famed Author's Chair. It is such a beautiful, cherished moment, and I could have never thought of a better way I could have shared my first story. 

We used to have DEAR sessions- Drop Everything and Read! During these sessions, every single person in the school had to drop all their work, pick up a book, and just read for an hour. We used to love it. We made sure that we already had a book planned for the session, so that we could start reading without any delays.

I had a great friends circle with a lot of readers during my high school. We used to rush to the library, and make sure we got all the books we wanted before others could. We used to then rotate the books amongst ourselves, until all of us had read all of them. We used to pre-book the novels we wanted to read the next week. The librarian teachers were one of my closest and best teachers, I could even take the liberty to say they were one of my best friends, in school. They beamed every time I entered, and kept books stacked away for me, which they felt I'd enjoy. They used to discuss the books and authors with me, and get my review and opinion on the novels. They were one of my most favourite memories in school. 

I remember, once I complained to my high school librarian that the books were stocked in a haphazard way in the library, and how it was difficult to locate the ones I wanted. She asked me smilingly: 'Is it not your library? Why don't you do something about it?' I was mildly taken aback, but she was right. I got the sense of feeling that the library is mine, and it is my school. So, I went back home that same day, made a list of the authors in the library, and made small name cards for them. I went back to her the next day to proudly tell her my idea on how to organise the library, and from that day till today the library follows the system of name cards that I made and began.

School is one of the places that can do magic, and a world of wonder, to students.  I felt happy every single day I went to school. And now, my school is one of the things I'm proudest about in my life. And, mine undeniably did a world of wonder to me.

The school did us proud. Now it's high time we return the favor, isn't it?

Sri Pingali Venkayya- The Man Behind Our Tiranga

I wrote this essay for a competition when I was in school. I did not know who Pingali Venkayya was before that, and felt pretty ashamed when I came to know that he is the man behind our national flag- Tiranga. I thought that I might have already put it up on my blog, and wanted to share the post today. But when I found that I hadn't, I wanted to share the essay, on account of India's 71st Republic Day, today! Happy Republic Day, and happy reading! Jai Hind!

Every free nation of the world has its own flag. It symbolizes the ideals that a country fundamentally stands for. At all national meetings, festivals, and occasions, it is the national flag that flies high. It is by the national tricolour, the tiranga, that India has its identity. Waving the national flag creates a sense of unity and patriotism in the country. Be it a cricket match, or a national event, the tricolour flag of India flies proudly. It is hoisted in the Red Fort every year by our President and Prime Minister during Independence Day, 15th August, and Republic Day, 26th January. And, this flag is a slightly altered form of Sri Pingali Venkayya’s design of the Indian National Flag.

Sri Pingali Venkayya was born in the village of Bhatlapenumarru, Krishna district, near Masulipatnam, Andhra Pradesh. After finishing his schooling at Machilipatnam, he went to Colombo for further studies. He first met Mahatma Gandhi while he served for the British in the Anglo-Boer war, fighting for the British, in South Africa. He was kindled and inspired by Gandhi, and was also greatly influenced by his ideas. He became a Gandhian.

During the duration of five years that Sri Pingali Venkayya stayed in North India, he actively participated in politics. After the 1906 Congress session with Dadabhai Naoroji, Pingali Venkayya manifested himself as an activist. 

During the National Conference of the Indian National Congress, Sri Venkayya came up with the proposal of having a unique flag for the Indian National Congress. Mahatma Gandhi liked and approved of Pingali Venkayya’s idea. He asked Venkayya to design a flag himself. Sri Pingali Venkayya proposed the tricolour(tiranga)- saffron, white and green- with a chakra or spinning wheel in the centre. This design was the basis for the National Flag of India. 

Our National Flag, in the form that it is now flown, was adopted during the meeting of Constituent Assembly held on the 22 July 1947, a few days before India's Independence from the British on 15 August, 1947. It served as the national flag of the Dominion of India between 15 August, 1947 and 26 January, 1950, and became the flag of Republic of India after that. The term "tricolour" or “tiranga” refers to the Indian national flag.

What do the three colours, that Sri Pingali Venkayya created for the Indian flag, represent?

The saffron colour represents courage, the white colour represents truth and peace, and the green colour represents faith and Prosperity. The saffron represents the Hindus, the white represents the Christians, and the green represents the Muslims, creating a unity among the three major religions of the Indian population. The Indian National flag is a perfect model representing an “Independent”, “Republic” and “Secular” India. It is the pictorial representation of the Nation.

Sri Pingali Venkayya definitely has to be attributed for creating the idea and design, on the basis of which our present National Flag of India has been created. It has been so many years since the adoption of our Indian flag, and still the flag is hoisted up creating a strong bond among the Indians. The tiranga unites the diversity of India.

Knowing about Pingali Venkayya’s contribution to the nation, and the important relevance it has in our nation today, will serve the purpose of institutional memories of the nation and the Freedom Struggle, to keep the youth of India motivated and inspired to stand up to basic values. This will help the youth to participate actively in Indian politics, and also be responsible citizens of India, upholding the constitutional values that India's flag stands for.

For Love Of Good Books!

1 January, 2018: I wake up to hear the sad news that Eloor Libraries is shutting down. It takes some time for me to even grasp, as I look at the facebook post, by another member who loves the library, announcing the same.

Eloor: that’s the name that reverberated the walls of my house since when I was five. I remember going there every weekend, and picking up four or five books to read through the week. In fact, that is the library that has literally seen me grow into the reader I am today. From the Beetle series, that had just a big picture and a single small line in a page, to binge reading series like the Famous Five, Amelia Jane, Sleepover Girls, Harry Potter and Hardy boys, to slowly exploring H G Wells, Robert Stevenson, and the children’s classics section that held Heidi, Hans Brinker and Silver Skates, Treasure Island, Little Women and the likes, to obsessing over the racks of Agatha Christie, Perry Mason, Robin Cook and Dan Brown, to graduating into Shaw, Dickens, Tolkien and the likes, as I grew older, the library has given me everything!

I remember jotting down random title names from various sources, and pestering the staff to find those odd titles for me. I remember how those Uncles who work there, smiled knowingly everytime I walked into the library. I remember how they bought copies of the books that the library didn’t have, because I wanted to read those titles. I remember when my brother picked up the same books that I had earlier read, and the member number 6066 was still scrawled in the vertical, rectangular white piece of due date paper, since when I had issued it some years back. Being very regular visitors, my brother and I used to call them up everytime there was a new book realeased by some author, and we wanted it to be issued to us first, or kept without being issued until we could come and collect it. To suddenly realize that the library is not going to exist anymore is painstakingly sad.

Eloor was a library that did justice to its tagline: for love of good books. The staff in the library, who we grew to call Uncles, have been there as long as I can remember, and were one of the best librarians, helping us with books and suggestions.

But, like my dad says, the shutting down of Eloor was not something unforceable. One major reason was that the number of people signing up and subscribing to lending libraries was coming down. Only people like us, who were members since a long time knew the real value of this place. I just didn’t expect to wake up one random day and hear that it’s going to be gone.

Anyway, I wrote this post in an urge as I really had to do something to hold on to the memories of this favourite place in Chennai that made my childhood wonderful.

I’ll miss reading books on the 6066 member ID, that gave me 14 days to finish the books I had issued and then come back for more.