I was thrilled to connect to my High School walking and cycling buddy on Facebook. School days leave lasting memories and even after several years dreams of School days do happen once in a while and the next day you wake up filled with a lot of emotions and recollections of those days.
This is a fun competition as you all know by now. All you have to do is write up a blog entry and post it in this thread on the topic.
:emrose::emrose::emrose::emrose: The topic for this BlogMela is Reminiscences Of School Days. :emrose::emrose::emrose::emrose:
Write interesting stories and recollections about your School days.
Entries can be submitted only during the submission window (please read further). Once the blog entries are submitted, there will be a review window following the submission window when other members can read and click Thank You for one or more blog entries they like. Winner will be the blog entry receiving the maximum number of Thank Yous at the end of the review period (just kidding, everyone will be a winner, though it will be interesting to see which blog entry gets the most Thank Yous).
This is an excellent chance to bring out the creativity in you.
Rules:
1. Blog entries should not violate CoC (of course). :)
2. No Images, videos or links to other websites or other blog entries or posts within the forum. Blog entries have to be 100% original (real life experience you don't mind sharing or fictional).
3. Only one blog entry per member.
4. Entries can be edited during the submission window, but cannot be edited during the review window. Any blog edited during the review window will be disqualified. The overall essence of the blog should not be changed during edits.
5. An entry should not be a repeat of any other blog already posted in the forum or in the blogs area.
6. Thanking this post does not add up to the compliments for my blog entry if I decide to submit one myself :)
7. The blog entry should be in English with occasional (say 10% maximum) transliterated words.
8. Around 500 words minimum but no limit on maximum number of words.
9. OP has the option of requesting a blog be moved to banter or another thread if deemed not relevant to the topic.
Guidelines:
1. Being creative and humorous helps, but not mandatory, you can also make members cry.
2. No offense to any religion, sentiments, community etc.
3. Make the blog easily readable by splitting into multiple paragraphs.
4. You may start off writing the blog entry now offline, store it in a word and then submit during the submission window.
Award: All are winners, however one receiving the most Thank Yous can keep the Virtual BlogMela award for one whole year, no monetary value associated with the award.
Note: This thread is only for blog submissions. I will open a separate thread to discuss submissions and feedback.
Blog Submission Window: September 15th 2012 to September 30th 2012.
Blog Review Window: October 1st 2012 to October 7th 2012.
Have fun !
BlogMela September 2012: Reminiscences Of School Days
BlogMela September 2012: Reminiscences Of School Days
Few students were are in celebration mode that day. The school will be closed after first period. They are planning for a cricket match due to early release and an unexpected holiday.
After prayer, we were sitting in our classroom, the school peon brought the notice, after ringing of the bell , we have to observe one minute silence then the class will be dismissed for the day because one of our student Amar Sen (name changed) has died. Oh my God! I looked left and yes he was absent for that day in the class!
He committed suicide in the morning by jumping on the railway track in front of a incoming train. His house was not too far from my house and we were in the same class so I knew him very well. He was very shy and clam guy. He was very introvert, used to sit very quietly in the class when rest of us would play and make noise.
People were surprised, how come he can do like that? Such a quite and harmless guy! it was beyond anybody's imagination that a timid guy like him gathered so much courage to jump in front of a train!
Being close to him , I could feel his pain. He was an average student but not bad at all. After half yearly examination we had to get our progress report/ mark sheet signed by our parents and return it to the class teacher. For some reason his half yearly marks were not up to the mark and he was very afraid to show it to his dad. His dad was a terror for him, very strict person who used to beat him mercilessly as he was not smart enough like rest of the kids. If we call his dad a Hitler, then our class teacher was a ferocious Royal Bengal Tiger, student used to wet their pants if he calls anyone by name. Breaking few sticks on student was normal day to day affair for our "beloved" teacher.
I immediately rushed to the railway track after the school where his body was lying. Saw his Hitler dad on the spot, smoking cigarette one after another , not much regret on his face that I could make out. I may be wrong as I can't judge his internal feelings.
How painful it must have been for him, I thought. The "cutting" on the railway track, as we read everyday in the newspaper, is not as smooth as knife on a butter . The wheel drags the body few hundred feet then the body gets smashed into two pieces due to the weight of the train, a horrible scene, could not stay there for long.
Why he has to take such a drastic step ? Is few marks in mathematics or geography more important than a life?
He was into tremendous mental pressure for last few days as we all returned our mark sheets but he could not. The teacher was constantly following up with him everyday as to why he was not returning the mark sheet. How long can he escape from the teacher ?
He has to take the courage and get it signed from his dad, we told him but to our surprise his "courage" was beyond our imagination. It is very difficult to judge a introvert guy like him who will never utter a word in spite of immense sufferings.
I was too small to understand the legal case at that point of time, it might have been closed as suicide case but I will never call it suicide but a murder, murder by his own dad, by our own teacher and by our own society.
Today I am a dad and I will never put such pressure on my child that he can not take it.
After prayer, we were sitting in our classroom, the school peon brought the notice, after ringing of the bell , we have to observe one minute silence then the class will be dismissed for the day because one of our student Amar Sen (name changed) has died. Oh my God! I looked left and yes he was absent for that day in the class!
He committed suicide in the morning by jumping on the railway track in front of a incoming train. His house was not too far from my house and we were in the same class so I knew him very well. He was very shy and clam guy. He was very introvert, used to sit very quietly in the class when rest of us would play and make noise.
People were surprised, how come he can do like that? Such a quite and harmless guy! it was beyond anybody's imagination that a timid guy like him gathered so much courage to jump in front of a train!
Being close to him , I could feel his pain. He was an average student but not bad at all. After half yearly examination we had to get our progress report/ mark sheet signed by our parents and return it to the class teacher. For some reason his half yearly marks were not up to the mark and he was very afraid to show it to his dad. His dad was a terror for him, very strict person who used to beat him mercilessly as he was not smart enough like rest of the kids. If we call his dad a Hitler, then our class teacher was a ferocious Royal Bengal Tiger, student used to wet their pants if he calls anyone by name. Breaking few sticks on student was normal day to day affair for our "beloved" teacher.
I immediately rushed to the railway track after the school where his body was lying. Saw his Hitler dad on the spot, smoking cigarette one after another , not much regret on his face that I could make out. I may be wrong as I can't judge his internal feelings.
How painful it must have been for him, I thought. The "cutting" on the railway track, as we read everyday in the newspaper, is not as smooth as knife on a butter . The wheel drags the body few hundred feet then the body gets smashed into two pieces due to the weight of the train, a horrible scene, could not stay there for long.
Why he has to take such a drastic step ? Is few marks in mathematics or geography more important than a life?
He was into tremendous mental pressure for last few days as we all returned our mark sheets but he could not. The teacher was constantly following up with him everyday as to why he was not returning the mark sheet. How long can he escape from the teacher ?
He has to take the courage and get it signed from his dad, we told him but to our surprise his "courage" was beyond our imagination. It is very difficult to judge a introvert guy like him who will never utter a word in spite of immense sufferings.
I was too small to understand the legal case at that point of time, it might have been closed as suicide case but I will never call it suicide but a murder, murder by his own dad, by our own teacher and by our own society.
Today I am a dad and I will never put such pressure on my child that he can not take it.
BlogMela September 2012: Reminiscences Of School Days
For the original Love Story (by Samir) - click here -->
http://www.r2iclubforums.com/forums/showthread.php/27026-BlogMela-Valentine-s-Day-2012-Special?p=435545#post435545
-
[This is a work of fiction, any similarities to an actual person or place is conincidental (wink wink)]
Yet Another Love Story --- by Anbhi
A short story should have an intriguing start. Its opening should offer something to its reader which makes the reader read the whole story. So let me start my story by saying ?
Sara was the first girl who saw me naked. In fact she saw me naked the very first time we met, in the woods of Pachmari.
Sara has been my classmate, my well-wisher and my closest friend for the past 20 years. The first time we met, we were in the fourth standard and were on a school trip to Pachmari. Our whole group of about 70 students from Saint John?s Convent School, Gwalior had gone on a trekking/rock climbing trip and Samir & I had somehow managed to lose sight of our group leader Mr. Gupta ? our Physical Education teacher. We were desperately trying to find our way in the woods when I had stepped into a ditch full of water (I still feel Samir and seen the ditch but had decided not tell me!!). As I was getting rid of my thoroughly soaked clothes and digging through my back-pack to extract my change of clothes; Sara had stepped into the opening. Unlike Samir, she did not giggle or made fun of my naked self. I instantly liked her.
Sara too had lost her way and was now looking for the other kids and Gupta Sir. We spent the next 6 hours looking for our teacher and friends. Finally, at around 8.00pm we bumped into a search party Gupta Sir had sent to look for us. We were promptly sent back to the camp, severely reprimanded and were grounded for the rest of the trip. We were hated by the rest of 67 students who had just spent 6 hours walking around the woods looking for us. Samir, I and Sara had to spend the next 7 days cooped up in a small 10 by 15 tent. While rest of the group explored waterfalls, flora and fauna of hilly Pachmari, we were assigned to cleaning the campsite, making 70 beds and helping with the cooking. By the time were ready to leave for Gwalior in seven days? time; Sara, Samir and I had become the best of the friends. On our way back to Gwalior first on a bus to Bhopal and then on a train to Gwalior ? Sara, I and Samir sat next to each other the whole time. By the time we reached Gwalior, we knew everything nine years old need to know about each other. After coming back, we were yet again given a ear-full by our teachers and respective parents for getting lost in the woods. We were officially banned from all future school outings and we became the laughing stock and favorite punching bag for the rest of the school. This experience brought three of even more closer.
For the next 6 years, three of us were inseparable. We were like three peas in a pod. No Rbee and Jani...in our case three was not a crowd and teen tigada was not a kaam bigada. These idioms just don?t apply to us.
We complimented each other perfectly. Sara was the tom boy of our group ? Physical, outgoing and athletic. I was the science guy ? Chemistry and Physics came just natural to me. Samir was the numbers-man. He was our tutor for Math. I know it?s an often used cliche but we did really complete each other. We were like the pieces of a big jigsaw, fitting perfectly with each other. When I think back, I cannot recall a single instance when we had a disagreement or an argument. That?s how much in-sync we were. Till then, Sara and Samir were my best friends, nothing more than that.
And then everything changed.
After class 10th, Samir decided to put his math skills to better use and moved to ?Commerce and Accounting? stream. Sara and I took the Science classes. First time since our elementary school, Sara, Anbhi and Samir became just ? Sara and Anbhi. First time I sat alone with Sara in Miss Sharmila?s Advanced Hydrocarbons class, I suddenly became aware of her presence as if it was the first time she was sitting next to me, touching me, breathing the same air as me. After that things were never same for me. Something was different, I had read about this feeling, I had seen a thousand movies, heard a million Bollywood songs about this and now, I knew?I was in love?with my best friend.
When we were in last year of our high school, the powers to be at Saint John?s high school decided to lift the lifelong ban imposed on Sara, me and Samir on our annual school trips. We went on a road trip to Agra, in a bus, sitting next to each other just like old times. Every time our hands touched ?accidentally?, I felt a bolt of electricity up my spine and I started sweating like a pig. Agra was one of the most torturous trips of my short life.
I struggled through the next two years of high school. I could never share my true feelings to either of my two best friends and slowly we started drifting apart. After high school, Sara moved to Delhi to complete her undergrad and Samir moved to US to join a prestigious West Coast University and to get high and enjoy life.
Next few years we continued to make something of our lives and kept it touch through Orkuts and Facebooks of the world. With time, Sara also moved to California not too far from Samir who was in Bay Area at that time.
It took me years but finally I too decided to move to US of A and get closure on my love. Two years back (after graduating from high school almost 10 years ago), I finally moved to Bay Area, California. My first stop was Sara?s house. Sara at that time was living in a small apartment just north of San Jose. As I knocked on her door I realized my poor heart was beating even more loudly then the noise my knuckles had just made on her door. As she opened her door, I just couldn?t take my eyes off her ? that 9 years old girl I had met in the woods of Pachmari all those years back had blossomed into a beautiful woman.
After mustering enough courage and after two glasses of Riesling offered by Sara, I bared my heart in front of her. I waited impatiently for her reaction and tried to read her expression. Her hazel green eyes turned misty and she just leapt up from her chair and embraced me in a tight hug ? ?Oh Anbhi, I love you. I cannot believe you suppressed your feelings for such a long time?why...oh why? How much time, how many years have we wasted???
That was two years back. Sara is still in Bay Area, just north of San Jose. She now lives with her husband and a beautiful 8 months old baby boy - Anbhi (I won the coin toss). She has promised she will name her second born either Samir or Samira. Yes, yes?I also live in Bay Area.
Have I mentioned? Sara was the first girl ever to see me naked?all those years back in the woods of Pachmari....and Samir was the first boy (he was with me that day)...he was also the last. Samir and I now co-own a beautiful one room studio right over on Castro Street in San Francisco. Sara has promised, the day California allows Samir and I to formalize our relationship, she will be my bridesmaid. Samir, I and Sara ? are again like three peas in a pod. If you are ever in San Francisco area, do drop-in. Samir maintains an excellent collection of wines.
So, a short story not only should have an intriguing start but also three other essential elements ? a casual misdirection toss-up, a lead and a punch!
http://www.r2iclubforums.com/forums/showthread.php/27026-BlogMela-Valentine-s-Day-2012-Special?p=435545#post435545
-
[This is a work of fiction, any similarities to an actual person or place is conincidental (wink wink)]
Yet Another Love Story --- by Anbhi
A short story should have an intriguing start. Its opening should offer something to its reader which makes the reader read the whole story. So let me start my story by saying ?
Sara was the first girl who saw me naked. In fact she saw me naked the very first time we met, in the woods of Pachmari.
Sara has been my classmate, my well-wisher and my closest friend for the past 20 years. The first time we met, we were in the fourth standard and were on a school trip to Pachmari. Our whole group of about 70 students from Saint John?s Convent School, Gwalior had gone on a trekking/rock climbing trip and Samir & I had somehow managed to lose sight of our group leader Mr. Gupta ? our Physical Education teacher. We were desperately trying to find our way in the woods when I had stepped into a ditch full of water (I still feel Samir and seen the ditch but had decided not tell me!!). As I was getting rid of my thoroughly soaked clothes and digging through my back-pack to extract my change of clothes; Sara had stepped into the opening. Unlike Samir, she did not giggle or made fun of my naked self. I instantly liked her.
Sara too had lost her way and was now looking for the other kids and Gupta Sir. We spent the next 6 hours looking for our teacher and friends. Finally, at around 8.00pm we bumped into a search party Gupta Sir had sent to look for us. We were promptly sent back to the camp, severely reprimanded and were grounded for the rest of the trip. We were hated by the rest of 67 students who had just spent 6 hours walking around the woods looking for us. Samir, I and Sara had to spend the next 7 days cooped up in a small 10 by 15 tent. While rest of the group explored waterfalls, flora and fauna of hilly Pachmari, we were assigned to cleaning the campsite, making 70 beds and helping with the cooking. By the time were ready to leave for Gwalior in seven days? time; Sara, Samir and I had become the best of the friends. On our way back to Gwalior first on a bus to Bhopal and then on a train to Gwalior ? Sara, I and Samir sat next to each other the whole time. By the time we reached Gwalior, we knew everything nine years old need to know about each other. After coming back, we were yet again given a ear-full by our teachers and respective parents for getting lost in the woods. We were officially banned from all future school outings and we became the laughing stock and favorite punching bag for the rest of the school. This experience brought three of even more closer.
For the next 6 years, three of us were inseparable. We were like three peas in a pod. No Rbee and Jani...in our case three was not a crowd and teen tigada was not a kaam bigada. These idioms just don?t apply to us.
We complimented each other perfectly. Sara was the tom boy of our group ? Physical, outgoing and athletic. I was the science guy ? Chemistry and Physics came just natural to me. Samir was the numbers-man. He was our tutor for Math. I know it?s an often used cliche but we did really complete each other. We were like the pieces of a big jigsaw, fitting perfectly with each other. When I think back, I cannot recall a single instance when we had a disagreement or an argument. That?s how much in-sync we were. Till then, Sara and Samir were my best friends, nothing more than that.
And then everything changed.
After class 10th, Samir decided to put his math skills to better use and moved to ?Commerce and Accounting? stream. Sara and I took the Science classes. First time since our elementary school, Sara, Anbhi and Samir became just ? Sara and Anbhi. First time I sat alone with Sara in Miss Sharmila?s Advanced Hydrocarbons class, I suddenly became aware of her presence as if it was the first time she was sitting next to me, touching me, breathing the same air as me. After that things were never same for me. Something was different, I had read about this feeling, I had seen a thousand movies, heard a million Bollywood songs about this and now, I knew?I was in love?with my best friend.
When we were in last year of our high school, the powers to be at Saint John?s high school decided to lift the lifelong ban imposed on Sara, me and Samir on our annual school trips. We went on a road trip to Agra, in a bus, sitting next to each other just like old times. Every time our hands touched ?accidentally?, I felt a bolt of electricity up my spine and I started sweating like a pig. Agra was one of the most torturous trips of my short life.
I struggled through the next two years of high school. I could never share my true feelings to either of my two best friends and slowly we started drifting apart. After high school, Sara moved to Delhi to complete her undergrad and Samir moved to US to join a prestigious West Coast University and to get high and enjoy life.
Next few years we continued to make something of our lives and kept it touch through Orkuts and Facebooks of the world. With time, Sara also moved to California not too far from Samir who was in Bay Area at that time.
It took me years but finally I too decided to move to US of A and get closure on my love. Two years back (after graduating from high school almost 10 years ago), I finally moved to Bay Area, California. My first stop was Sara?s house. Sara at that time was living in a small apartment just north of San Jose. As I knocked on her door I realized my poor heart was beating even more loudly then the noise my knuckles had just made on her door. As she opened her door, I just couldn?t take my eyes off her ? that 9 years old girl I had met in the woods of Pachmari all those years back had blossomed into a beautiful woman.
After mustering enough courage and after two glasses of Riesling offered by Sara, I bared my heart in front of her. I waited impatiently for her reaction and tried to read her expression. Her hazel green eyes turned misty and she just leapt up from her chair and embraced me in a tight hug ? ?Oh Anbhi, I love you. I cannot believe you suppressed your feelings for such a long time?why...oh why? How much time, how many years have we wasted???
That was two years back. Sara is still in Bay Area, just north of San Jose. She now lives with her husband and a beautiful 8 months old baby boy - Anbhi (I won the coin toss). She has promised she will name her second born either Samir or Samira. Yes, yes?I also live in Bay Area.
Have I mentioned? Sara was the first girl ever to see me naked?all those years back in the woods of Pachmari....and Samir was the first boy (he was with me that day)...he was also the last. Samir and I now co-own a beautiful one room studio right over on Castro Street in San Francisco. Sara has promised, the day California allows Samir and I to formalize our relationship, she will be my bridesmaid. Samir, I and Sara ? are again like three peas in a pod. If you are ever in San Francisco area, do drop-in. Samir maintains an excellent collection of wines.
So, a short story not only should have an intriguing start but also three other essential elements ? a casual misdirection toss-up, a lead and a punch!