Nolite te Bastardes Carborundorum

A call. A miscalculation. 

They talk and talk and talk! 

Husband and wife, united by their venom. 

Rattle snakes that poison the soul. 

Tumne hamari poti ko humse door rakha.

Tum hamare bete ke saath shaadi ke pehle ghoom rahi thi. 

Uske saath so ke use fasaya hai. 

Tum cunning aur sly ho. 

Mera mooh mat khulvao. 

Tumne toh tumhare baap ko ghar se bahar phenka hai. 

Tum apni maa ke godi mein raho. 

Agar guts hai toh tumhare parents ko call karne ko kaho. 

Jo hamara beta kamata hai tumhe hi toh deta hai. 

Hame kuch milta hai? 

Hum tumhare paiso pe nahi reh rahe. 

Tum luxury enjoy kar rahi ho hamare bete ke paiso pe. 

Meri bimari mein aa ke tamasha kiya tumne. 

Apne bhai se phone pe baat ki us din? Kyon? 

Tumhara bhai uski biwi ke saath reh raha hai na? 

Tum nahi reh sakti? 

Tum hamara beta tumhare relatives ko show off karti ho, 

Hamari bahu kabhi yaha aati hai? 

Hamne hamare bete ko ek saal se nahi dekha. 

Hum taras rahe hai. 

Main mar gaya toh bhi dekhe mat aana. 

Hame tum aur tumhari beti, donho nahi chahiye. 

Tum hame kale Madrasi kehti ho. 

Unpadh kehti ho. 

Hamare bare mein likhti ho. 

Tum pregnant thi toh hum kya kare?

Pehla baccha nahi dekhne milta, doosra abort ho gaya toh kya? 

Biwi ki duty kabhi ki hai? 

Tum jhoot bol rahi ho. 

Hamara beta tumhare parents pe kabhi chilla nahi sakta. 

Tum aur tumhare parents mein tameez nahi hai. 

Unhone tumhe tameez nahi sihkhayi hai. 

Pyaar ka natak karke hamare bete ko fasaya hai. 

Tum kya ho batau main tumhe? 

TUM PAISE KI GIRLFRIEND HO! 

Love Story 2006 -____ 

Character assassination = 100% 

Justice/Jail Time = 0% 

Save the girl child. 

Let her never be born!

***

DISCLAIMER

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Tinkle (I do not mean Twinkle) Toes!

Ridiculous though it may sound, anklets make me very happy. Giddy even. In spite of its association with misogyny/slavery/sexism/etc., this is one metal chain that I find utterly liberating. Primarily, no one considers it significant, thereby not eliciting any/many comments. Since I generally put my feet up while reading/studying, the aesthetic pleasure I derive is generally all mine. Nay to voyeurism and the male gaze. Plus, silver is in the doghouse per se where jewellery is concerned. The Indian subcontinent is so enamoured by gold and now diamonds that silver still remains (that is changing too with gold becoming almost impossible to afford 😐) relatively the cheaper element. And, to boot, it is also anti-racist. How so? Well, gold (apologies for being politically incorrect) does not suit all skin tones, while silver is one metal that can enhance and embrace any skin colour. I've known so many dusky women preferring silver to gold not because they cannot afford it, but merely because the amalgamation of ebony and shiny 14 (tsk tsk)/18 (probably diamonds here)/22 carat flaming yellow aurum makes one look like the ubiquitous काली पीली that one hails with indecorous abandon in the Mumbai metropolitan region. Rose gold made its entry to serve just this purpose (my hypothesis) of appealing to those who did not want to look like cousins of the canary, but its price still remains steep; and besides, 'people' will think it is fake. Ditto white gold which my snooty relative refuses to purchase as her peer group might think she picked up her trinkets on Colaba causeway. So the anklet then...aaah...so liberating. So mine. And if you want to add ayurvedic wisdom to it; it apparently cools the 'system'. Not that I believe in that hokum (overall, let's go agnostic on this), but yes, I know I am tired/ill when even the पायल seem too heavy for my feet. So yay for argentum. All hail atomic number 47. May it always lack in lustre.  😏

P. S. - I know 2020 is the Covid-19 year. I'm just ignoring it with an appropriately fatuous and flippant post. 

Self Image

Why does a Hindu drape

The dupatta like an Islamic chador?

Because she realises that

There is nothing to hide.

Why are you always so covered?

She smirks. To unveil prejudices.

She rises, her head held high

Beyond the storms and tempests

Of this paltry world while

Her feet dance the tandav

In synchronicity. 

Back to the Future

     A sense of deja vu envelopes me several times a day. Motor memory seems to ensure that I make all the right turns. Navigate even the new hexagon with ease. It feels like home. It is home.

     Familiar faces smile at me. Some might be cringing, but it's diplomatic to steer clear of meaningless confrontation. JNS has become JNIS. It is being led by a dynamic team of leaders. I am learning. I am engaging. I will be teaching the subject that I love the most.

     Applesauce has seen little of me. I seemed to have been working too hard and forgetting to think about myself. Who am I anyway? I ask people to think while simultaneously ensuring that I don't bother to look at my reflection; either literally or figuratively. I've turned myself into a product that delivers. A capitalist creation who thinks she can buy health and considers happiness overrated.

    Isn't it though? Isn't happiness a commodity which we are constantly selling people. From talc to towers, from pizza to pies in the sky - we are packaging happiness. And I'm just not buying it. Those who enter my sphere of contact come up with their own estimation of my happiness. I hear advice from everyone telling me that doing what I love isn't the way to live. And yes, doing what I do do does have its ups and downs. But not doing is worse.

     So this ramble shall raise a toast to doing. Do whatever you want to do. Just keep doing. Perhaps that is the key to happiness. Isn't even meditation intentional? Work is my meditation. I hope this...chapter/journey/voyage/ride/experience/tale/trial/tribulation/triumph/time shall help me understand the way of the world better.

     Over and out!

Pat-a-Cake

Semolina or Rawa Cake

Ingredients:

Semolina/Rawa - 1 cup

Yoghurt/Curd - 1 cup

Castor Sugar/Powdered sugar - 1 or 3/4 cup (to taste)

Clarified butter/Ghee or Oil - 4 tbsp

Saffron - 1 gram or two pinches (optional)

Cardamom/Elaichi powder - 2 pinches (optional)

Nutmeg/Jaiphal powder - 2 pinches (optional)

Vanilla extract (NOT essence) - 1 tsp

Baking powder - 1 tsp

Cooking soda - 1/2 tsp

Method: 

1. Grease a six inch bundt tin with clarified butter and keep it aside.

2. Mix the semolina, yoghurt, clarified butter, sugar, saffron and nutmeg and cardamom powder. Ensure that there are no lumps. Keep it covered for half an hour to forty five minutes.

3. Preheat the oven to 180 degrees centigrade. 

4. After forty five minutes add the vanilla extract, and the baking and cooking soda and mix well. 

5. Bake immediately for thirty minutes or till done. The edges should brown slightly.

6. Cool on a wire rack and unmould in fifteen minutes.

The cake tastes great both warm and cold. You may add chopped dry fruits if you so wish.

Happy New Year !!!

Yes, yes. Belated happy new year. I'm late. Very late.

***

That seems to be the constant refrain these days. Late to bed. Late in the morning. Late getting home. But it is  a good sort of 'late-ness'. I have some purpose. Some work. I have felt the urge to quit. But the memory of the have-nothing-to-do stage of my life makes me think nothing could be worse. 

And I do enjoy my job. It's not just some politically correct rhetoric. I have no wish to turn academia into a noble profession. It isn't. It's just fun. 

Dirty and full of duds (yes, yes, I am an intellectual snob); but gloriously fulfilling. Especially, being a student. You can't be a teacher unless you are a student...perpetually. I do want to keep learning. Is there another purpose to life? 

***

In other news, Indian politics seems to resemble the theater of the absurd. Yawn. Cringe. Outrage. Cringe. Yawn. 

*** 

And it rained today. The sky was as glum as my mood. Global warming? Ironically, there was a "nukkad natak" in school on the theme. Good motives. Very good. But is it going to change the weather? 

Poignantly, a line in the play pointed out that Global warming has become a business. The play exhorted us to love our environment too. The slow-hand-spread typical to Shahrukh Khan romance movies meant to represent love for nature was droll. Does the environment want love? The environment seems to be Edvard Munch like screaming - LEAVE ME ALONE. Love is smothering. 

***

Why am I blogging random stream of consciousness style? A student's turn it in report is yet to generate. Please turn it in Gods, hear my plea. I have a deadline to meet. Umm...why does one meet a deadline? Meet is too positive for a 'dead'line. 

Ok then, I have a deadline to beat !!!! 

Are you there God? It's me, an IB teacher !!!

***

The End

***

Yawn, yawn, yawn....

On Theory of Knowledge...snippets from a larger thread of conversation.

I agree with my colleagues who argue that it is important to not over-generalise the results of this survey. However, discounting student opinion entirely is not the solution either. The survey as a whole does seem to reflect my experience with students/student essays & presentations over the years both as a TOK teacher, Coordinator and Examiner.

I find it important to refer to school ethos vis-a-vis the treatment of TOK. The more sensible and sensitive students seem to have picked up on this aspect and have duly reflected on the school's/teacher's approach and erudition. I have taught TOK in two schools in the same city in India, and the difference in terms of perception about TOK was/is palpable. It is not surprising then to find that students tend to find their TOK lessons "confusing" to say the least.