Things have changed so much since then...
Back then, I was the quiet little kid, the one who just studied and got marks, did homework on time, had a decent handwriting, and never really did much for the school as a whole.
But now. I'm not so quiet anymore, I don't study as much, don't always do my homework, have a famously-bad handwriting, and volunteer for every program which the school holds.

I've grown older, I've changed school, and I've seen a completely different side of life. I left behind that past, as if all a dream.
But now as I see the batch photo of my previous school's current 10th, I see what I left behind.
But I don't regret it. I've got green grass on this side too. I'd like to think of it as greener, but well...it isn't, is it? And I see a lot of nice flowers on this side, so it's a pretty nice place too.

The Badminton Game

I often play badminton with my brother and his friends. Sometimes we play at the night. When we play at night noone will be there except my brother and me. It would be really nice to play but by the time you return home you feel like someone is tearing your muscles apart. It will still be refreshing and you feel like playing it again and again.

Once we were playing as usual at night, when my mind wandered of somewhere. I wasn't really concentrating but still playing. I was lost in toughts, Somethings I didn't even want to think about. Somethings I didn't even know. It happens to everyone you'll be concentrating on something really badly when something turns up and your mind just literally gets out of your control. This once, I was trying to convert life into a badminton game. Weird but yes I was trying to do it.

The little thing  just flies into your court and however you hit it, however hard you hit it, it must go across the net. but sometimes you hit it too hard. Sometimes you just don't get to hit it. Sometimes you hit it too slowly. But there will be a time when you hit it perfectly fine.

Just like a badminton game, situations fly into your life and you will be supposed to hit it out of your life. And just like the game, sometimes you'll be too hard that it goes out of the court and your opponent gains a point and most importantly you don't. Sometimes you hit too slowly that it remains in your court which is supposedly your life and again you lose a point. When you hit it perfectly fine the person doesn't get to hit it back and you gain a point. I don't I have to tell you how that is related to a normal person's life.

You can relate everything in your life with many things that you do everyday like I did in here. Observe what is happening around you. Watch. Maybe, you can live better life that way. I don't know.....maybe..Stop reading the blog and think for a while. :-)

Ms. Lini was awarded as World's Best Teacher

     Today was a wonderful day for Ms. Lini. You know why? Of course you don't!  I would like to tell you that Ms. Lini was taken by surprise for being awarded as World's Best Teacher by students of class VII A. 

     The students had planned for today's awarding ceremony without their class teacher's knowledge. It seemed that they sought Fr. John's permission to conduct this ceremony & had coordinated with him secretly. Very smart & daring, weren't they?

     During the 7th period, they gathered at the Home Theatre and a few students went to get Fr. John and Fr. Johny for the function. Believe it or not, Niharika & Jacob were the comperers and they did a wonderful job. So, folks, we have two good comperers on the rise. Congratulations to the two of you. (Anjana & Sachin, these young folks will soon take your place & will surely take the stage by storm. You might want to give them some tips. ;))


Here are some photos for you:


Ms. Lini receiving her certificate from Fr. John & Fr. Johny.



That green file contains some "love" letters for Ms. Lini.
Sorry, I didn't get to read them, so I won't be able to tell you what the letters say.





Click on the certificate to have a better view of it.



CONGRATULATIONS, MS. LINI!

Great Job, class VII A!

The Dial

The space is white.

The walls are silent observers of the tug of repulsion between the floor and the ceiling. They too are white.

You blink an eye, and the space is black.
Blink again, and the space is white.

An unblinking eye can untangle the chaos in the calm façade. It can sense out where the center of the space is, and heads there. Reaching there, it stares down.
Down, not up.
And there, levitated by the chaos, is a dial of black volcanic rock. The dial glints in the invisible light, and the eye can see the facets time has cut on it. It ticks tranquility, and the needles are prancing against the tick of time. Brace yourself, for they are fast ticking towards Carnage.

Suddenly, you sense a disturbance in the white air. The space is sending out ripples of it towards you, and you steel yourself as the waves lash in. Your mind conjures wild images of earthly irritants, but the storm approaching is far more unnatural.
Nothing. You feel nothing.

You blink, and the white air stills itself.
The dial is still alive, and the needles are still ticking down. A wary eye will know to hide, because they are ticking towards Cataclysm.
You feel it whipping you about before you can see it. High-velocity winds rage at you, and you feel trapped in a war you do not know of. The ceiling has sent a vortex down at the floor, but the floor and ceiling are there no more.

As the vortex spirals down past you, it holds you prisoner. You are forced to watch the visions stream by, distorted by the spiralling. The visions are like pulsing tendons, the vortex drawing its strength from each of them. Stretched faces, unrealized acquisitions, monochrome dreams – they all whiz past the blinking eye. The vortex grows stronger as you watch. With each blink, another second spirals down.
The faces are crying, some aghast, some euphoric. The dreams are like deserted construction sites, the rubble and pillars clumped together in an unlikely pair. But everything dematerializes. Everything spirals down towards the dial.

The eye winces as the vortex reaches the dial, but the dial is alive. It is the power, and it forces the vortex into submission. The filaments of the vortex flicker out like carefully lit notes in a symphony, and they are all strung loose. The dial does not render them free, for the vortex is intact at its head. The space witnesses an eerie picture – A lone figure stands stranded among the blinking filaments, and at its foot, the dial holds the reigns to it all.

You blink an eye, and the filaments are gone. The walls would have you know, that the last thing they saw before dissipating themselves, was the dial guzzling the filaments into it.

A ripple emanates from within the dial, and for a moment of stunned disbelief you see liquid on the dial surface. And reflected there, you see yourself. You see all the things your naïve heart had desired, and you see everything that was denied to you. The dial shows you their faces, their smug arrogance. It shows you what was, and what never was. The dial is the power.

You blink an eye, and the surface of the dial freezes over. There are the needles, ticking down. You can’t see where they’re headed now. The dial does not deem you worthy. Insipid thoughts fill you up, as you’re forced to relive every moment of regret, of indecision, of despair. The needles are ticking, and blatant lies are pouring out of their mouths into your world.

An unwavering eye sees nothing. It sees stillness. It sees completion. It sees eons of emptiness.

But you are not the eye. You cannot survive in the presence of the dial. For it will incarcerate every object you hold dear. To the dial, all but itself is trite.

So you close your eyes, and the space is no more. You do not blink.

The mundane trinkets of life await you for when you wake. There will be papers to be filed, men to be bought, fragility to be destroyed and seconds to be killed.

The automatons are waiting for you. You must walk amidst the millions of them that throng the world your reality inhabits, and you must distort your thinking to aid theirs. You must not waver; you must submit.

But don’t blink. The space will reel you in, and the dial will wreck your sanity.