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.

Never Give Up!

NEVER EVER GIVE UP!

          My dear friends, I chose this title for my article because I have a real life experience which I would like to share with you in connection to this. Maybe it can inspire you.

          I came to this school for Std VII. Even though it was difficult for me to cope up with the new surroundings I managed to flow with others. For the first Annual Day that I witnessed in this school, I saw my friends and everybody else participating in one or the other events. They took part in dances, dramas, songs…. But I thought of joining in some other different program.

          I had a very small experience in compering when I was in 4^th STD.  I had compered for the Grand Finale in the annual day celebration of my previous school.  So, I planned to compere at DCMIPS.

          There was a screening for comperers and I was selected as one of the comperers for the annual day celebrations.

          I was happy that I was given the chance to compere. I had a partner and we both went and asked the teacher assigned for each event on how to go about compering in the program. The teachers gave us a long list of instructions. Among the instructions, Pradeep sirs’s instruction was terrible. He asked us to present the matter in different moods.

          Everything was set. I practiced many times from home. On the day of the event, I got a small slip of paper from a boy who was a member of our compering team. It was written, “Sabith, this is the only part that you have got to comper for today’s function”. I asked him, “Then what about the previous ones?” He told me that those were given to someone else and then he left. I opened the slip given to me and I saw two lines scribbled in that. The two lines were: “Wow, that was an amazing performance! Ladies and gentlemen, please give them a warm, round of applause once again”.

          I was really out of my senses for some time; I felt like crumpling the paper up and just leave the premises. But then, I thought that if I'd go they would make someone else to read that and I won’t be able to read at least those lines. I stood calm 'till my part was over. After saying my two precious lines, I left the place immediately!

          The whole day I was thinking about the ‘hours’ that I spent practicing that bloody stuff. I wanted to get another chance to compere and show my real talent. After that incident whenever any program came, I would go in search of opportunities to compere.

           Now when I reached 8th std... I again went and tried my luck in compering for any event during the annual day. The concerned teacher told me, “Ok! You can come but there is a screening session which you have to undergo.”

           I agreed to attend it. Since I didn’t hear any news regarding the screening till the previous day of the program, I approached the teacher and enquired.

          She told me,  “The screening was over and the students have already been taken.”

          Another mental shock for me! As a protest against this, I didn’t attend the 3-day annual day celebration.

          After this second incident, I swore upon God and prayed before him that, I wont leave this school until I fixed my indelible mark in compering.

          Now I am in 9^th.  God bless, that this time our principal father asked the  9^th STD students to host the Children’s Day celebrations. This was a great time for me to make use of the opportunity. I compered for the whole program from the start till the end. 

          After the program was over my class teacher came and told me, “English teachers said that you have an ‘Undiscovered Compering Talent’.”

          I boast on that to my friends because that’s the only talent I have got.  If I don’t boast on this one talent that I have, then on what will I boast?

          This year, I was surprised to hear from my English teacher that I was there for compering for the three-day annual day celebrations.

         Whenever I felt dissatisfied with what I did on stage, I would ask the teacher, “How was it?” I asked that each and every time I came down from stage. God bless, that most of the remarks were positive.

          Now finally I am in 10^th.  Most probably the last year of mine in this school. This year we had the All Kerala CMI CBSE School Kalotsav held at our school. I was selected for compering. This time it wasn’t as cool as before. It was a competition in which my partner and I had to work so hard to compete with intellectuals from different parts of Kerala. The most amazing thing was... we won first place! That for me was a great achievement because I didn't want my teacher's name to be spoilt and I didn't want to disappoint my parents as well.

My teacher who selected me for this event told me that there were so many controversies when she selected me for this. It was primarily because of her trust in me that I am selected. I didn't know what those contoversies were but I thought of working so hard so that her name would not be spoilt because of me.

          My intention in writing this experience is to tell you not to give up under any circumstances. I didn't. With continuous effort and hard work, you will achieve whatever you work hard for. Make maximum use of the opportunities given to you. ‘Extract the last drop of essence from the lime’, as the saying goes.

          With this, I would like to take the opportunity to thank the ones who have really helped me to come up to this height. First of all, our principal Fr. John Mannarathara, who gave me a chance to be involved in the Children’s Day celebrations, Ms. Sheela Varghese, Ms. Kairali and last but not the least Ms. Divya Krishna.

Thank you

My experience of the Sancharam 2012

Night 1:

I stepped out of the car, and dashed to the queues which were formed in the lobby of Devagiri CMI Public School. I had come a little late, but luckily hadn't missed it. I joined my friends, and talked a little, excitedly. We were told to keep quiet, and somehow managed, in spite of the anticipation.
Anand sir, as usual, told us a few things to keep in mind.
“For one, It's going to be very cold there, Be sure to have warm clothing.”
“You have asked for big buses, so we've given you big luxury buses.”
“You asked to be seated separately, so that has been done too.”
“You asked me not to come, so I am also not coming.”
The last sentence made us all burst into laughter. We were excited, and ready to go. Except for the few who rushed off to the washrooms at the last moment.
We boarded the bus, marveling at its facilities and size. Many of us went straight to the back, waving goodbye to the adults outside-The parents, a few members of the staff like Ms. Sheela who'd come to see us off, and of course, our principal-Father John, thanks to whom we were able to enjoy ourselves so freely without any restraints.
“Bye Amma!”
“Bye Mom! Bye Dad!”
Abruptly, I was asked, “Hey Amita, what's your mom's name?” But before I could answer, I heard her shout, “Bye Amita's mom!”
The loudest cheer was the "BYE SHEELA MAA'AAM!" which everyone screamed out at full volume. Sheela ma'am turned around and quickly walked away at this.
The bus slowly, but loudly, rolled out of the school, with the sound system already kicking in. The celebration had started, and I feared that my motion sickness might as well. I sat down calmly, as the lights went off and the lasers went on. The music was loud, and the party didn't stop, that is, until around 11 or 12 in the night, when we were shown the horror movie, “Nightmare On Elm Street”. Though, as I'm not a very big fan of horror, I sealed off the world with my music player, and lazily gazed outside. Some people hadn't been able to come, and they were missing this. I closed my eyes, ignoring the screams, and Shilpa diving down onto my lap in fear every now and then. I sighed, and gently stroked her head. A similar thing had happened when I got a tight hug while watching 'The Edge' in the home theatre, but I didn't mind as much.
The movie ended, and everyone was discussing the scenes in it. I took out my earphones, and placed my music player back into my bag. It was 1:00 AM, and far past my bedtime. Before I knew it, I was asleep. But not for long, as the half-asleep, subconscious chatter from behind woke me up. I joined in, since the bus had stopped somewhere (for a reason I do not yet know). And in that half-asleep, uninhibited state, we talked about the strangest of things, like Barney the Dinosaur, celebrities, movies and so on. Such a half-asleep state has always been a time when I am the most free and thoughtless, and as I discovered, I'm not the only one. A few hours later, I gazed outside lazily, and saw frogs hopping around on the road. We were going up a mountain, and abruptly turned into what seemed like a parking.
“We're there?”
“But the boys' bus went on. They missed!”
No, we'd missed. We had to turn around and go a few metres further.
“Guuys, is it cold outside?”
“Touch the glass.”
It seemed cold to me, if not to some other girls. We walked through the cold atmosphere, waited a minute at the reception, and went to our rooms. The first time, we had 23 or so girls assigned to one room. We changed room once, to 15 or so girls, and the turns in the bathroom began. Some needed to change clothes, brush their teeth etc. I spotted an electric kettle, some sugar, or rather, sugar-free and teabags on a plate in the room.
“Who wants black tea?”
I got an answer, and brewed some.
After a while, when we had not much to do, we turned on the television in the room, and surfed the channels a little, till we landed on a movie. “Fired up” What struck me, was how easy it seemed to get a girlfriend, when there are so many sources stating on complex ways to reach the same result.


Day 1:

Lini ma'am came into our room, and we were off again, to breakfast.
Half-asleep, weary, a large group of dark-circled zombies climbed through hills surrounded by tea plantations. Finally getting some shuteye in the bus after a nearly sleepless night, some weren't happy about being awoken to stop at at Eravikulam National park. It was nearing noon, and the sun was beating on our heads. We boarded rattling buses, to take us up the mountain. We stopped, and started the walk. I was thirsty and a little tired, but we went on, washing our faces in springwater from a pipe, and seeing a sort of shrine on the way.
In a few minutes, we had reached the limit, beyond which we weren't allowed to go. We saw a tahr, and several signposts with slogans. What surprised us was when it lazily trotted towards the fence between us, and walked along it into a bush.


Next, we were off for lunch, somewhere after Mattupetti dam, in the open air. What I disliked about this wasn't that we had to wait long for it, but that we had to dispose of the plates in the open. After learning not do so from my formal education, it was disheartening to see the teachers themselves doing it without a second thought.
Our next destination was 'Echo point', where, more than sightseeing, we bought souvenirs, like, Rajasthani pens, keychains, printing blocks and so on.
From there, we were off to the hotel to get fresh. But I ended up vomiting on the way, from motion sickness, and couldn't even eat dinner properly. I freshed up a little back at the hotel, and danced a little at the campfire, before having to sit down and rest.

Day 2:

That night saw a well-needed rest, till five AM or so, when we started packing up, and I ate my parcel, in my mind, thanking the angel (Anagha) who'd gotten it for me. We were in better spirits than the night before. And were all ready to go to the houseboats after breakfast.
I remember sitting next to Ms. Anniamma for the bus journey to the houseboats.
We stopped off at a tea shop for the common morning 'chaya', and then set off. The music was started, and we went through Kochi, a land of development, and little patches of grass here and there. There were huge buildings like Emmanuel Silks and a line of popular car showrooms. I was amazed at it all, and my jaw dropped. So this was the 'Kochi' I'd heard so much about. It truly was something!
Soon, we started seeing water, and knew we were there. We walked, from the bus parking, to the houseboats, and walked into one, by stepping on planks. We climbed to the top deck, and had breakfast while the boat set off. We sat or stood here and there, many on the seat at the very front. The water hyachinth covered a lot of the river, and all we could see were villages, and greenery.
But Alas! Soon we were back, and had to go again.

At around 11, we reached a jewish synagogue, (Name). The way there was lined with souvenir shops, which we were supposed to hurry through, though some bought things like pens or a skirt.
Our next stop was St. Francis Church, Kochi, where Vasco Da Gama was first buried. It awed us to think that the church's interiors were over a century old! Next, we found ourselves walking along the Kochi beach to see the Chinese fishing nets, ships and boilers used in ships.

We stopped off at a hotel 'Sagar' on the way, for lunch (The time was 4:00 PM). We had lunch, and waited for a while, in the hotel, and in the bus. We begged Fr. Johnny to let us go straight to Oberon mall instead of visiting Marine Drive on the way. He obliged, and we were off. We were instructed to go in groups, hide our wallets and money, and so on. I formed a group with Nazreen, Niranjana, Anjana and Michalle. We went to the clothes section first, and were shocked at the high prices. We fled to the Bookstore. We bought a few books, for ourselves, and younger siblings. Then, we went around, to the bumper cars, Intel Store, arcade and then to the foodcourt. We ordered a few items, like a milkshake, doughnut, French fries and chicken popcorn, and even a pizza. We started at a normal pace...until Chaithanya burst in and told us that we had only five minutes left. We ate like the cookie monster in Sesame street, tearing the doughnut into parts, getting a brain-freeze from going too fast on the milkshake. We went down the escalators, and out. Some people like Avani and Parvathi were missing, so we had to wait a while before crossing the road and walking to the bus. We hadn't gotten the pizza in time to eat it from the foodcourt, and had brought it packed to eat in the bus. It was good, needless to say. And our spirits were up again. We were happy about the tour, and how it had turned out. Yes. It was almost over. All that awaited us were a dinner at Hotel Runs (Coincidentally the same place we had gone to on the way back, the year before) and a horror movie “The Last Exorcism”.
Anniamma ma'am and I were sitting on the first seat on the left, a triangular vacant seat in front of us. I took a picture of both of us sitting together, as many of us had been doing with our close friends. My legs were cramped up in the little legroom we had, so I put them onto the triangular seat in front. Anniamma ma'am followed suit.
Like the previous movie, I put my earphones in my ears, and listened to music while the movie rolled. I couldn't sleep, and just closed my eyes till it ended. There was far less screaming for this movie, and it was peaceful in the bus. Many of us drifted off to sleep, and before I knew it, we were turning left at the Thondayad Bypass. We were predicted to reach school at 4:00 AM, but it was just around 1:30-2:00. We reached the school gates, and woke everyone up. With our luggage, we went to the Kindergarten building, and to the beds there to sleep for a while. Our tour was over, and we were nothing short of exhausted of energy, and brimming with newly-made memories.

Since when have we become so judgemental?

Presume - is to have or form an opinion or view about a thing, situation, or a person in ones mind irrespective of whether it's actually real or has any other justification. In life, at a glance or in the first meeting or just on hearsay we tend to colour our views or form an opinion and tend to stick to it without really knowing much about it. 

A boy who doesn't get straight A's is labelled stupid, but little do we know that he has a learning disability.  A girl who has scars on her arms is made fun of, teased and tortured but needless to say we have no clue about the hardships she has faced. 

We believe or say only what we want to and refuse to see the truth staring at us. Alas! Blame the anomalies of human nature. What each one of us fails to realize is that we all have our own story. A reason we are the way we are. No one has a right to judge another person. 

The society today has changed from what it was before. Today you're judged on everything you do. No matter how many times you try living up to the society's expectations you can never live up to it and end up disappointing yourself.  Many girls today starve themselves just so that they can fit into the description of "Beautiful" .

But the thing here is: If you're skinny, you get called anorexic. 

If you have flesh on your bones, you get called fat. If you get good grades, you're called a nerd. If you don't get good grades, you're just labelled dumb. 

Either which way you're constantly being judged for the way you look, the way you do things, the way you smile. Almost everything. It's time we stop perceiving people as black and white entities but instead look at them with shades of grey.

What I personally feel is people need to stop trying to live up to someone else's expectations. The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering known loss and have found their way out of the depths. These people have an appreciation, an understanding of life, that fills them with compassion, kindness and a deep loving concern which not many people have. 

As Elisabeth Kubler-Ross once rightly said:

Beautiful people do not just happen.