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Saturday, March 12, 2011
ACHIEVEMENTS 2011
Anuj Diwan (10 Mallika) secured GOLD Medal in Ganit Pravinya- Pradnya Examination (5th Std.). He was one of the state level toppers!
He also figured in the merit list of ‘Institute for Promotion of Mathematics (IPM)’ Exam (4th & 5th Std.)
Got a merit certificate in the Homi Bhabha Young Scientist E
xamination (2010-2011) and has entered second round of competition.
Received first prize in Interschool Elocution Competition (G-North & South) held by the Municipal Corporation and has entered the Zonal Level (Junior Group- English)
=============
1. By V.N.Sule Guruji School
matics in the schoool (149/150).
2. By Marubai Temple Trust (Matunga) and Nav Mitra Mandal (Shivaji Park
2. By Marubai Temple Trust (Matunga) and Nav Mitra Mandal (
We congratulate the following makrandites for having participated and successfully completed the Mumbai marathon 2011.
at the recent Mumbai Marathon 2011.
Mr. Ravi Abhyankar (21, Madhavi) - 4hr: 27 mts
HalfMarathon :
Half
1. Ms Sapna Joshi (10, Madhavi) – 2 hrs: 08 mts
2. Mr Salil Datar (7-8, Manjiri) – 2 hrs: 38 mts
3. Dr. Phoolrenu Chauhan (17, Madhavi) – 2 hrs: 50 mts
2. Mr Salil Datar (7-8, Manjiri) – 2 hrs: 38 mts
3. Dr. Phoolrenu Chauhan (17, Madhavi) – 2 hrs: 50 mts
4. Dr Rupali Gore (7-8, Manjiri) – 3 hrs: 06 mts
5. Ms Shamala Datar (16, Mallika) – 3 hrs: 40 mts
========================================================
Sanaa Gore-Datar (7-8, Manjiri) won the individual junior athletics championship trophy, having won four gold and one bronze medal in the School Individual Jr. Athletics Championship at Bombay Scottish
Ashok Datar's (20, Madhavi) book, "Vahtuk Thappa, Basunaka Gappa" about practical solutions to Mumbai Traffic challenges was recently published by Granthali Prakashan
Anoushka Joshi (10, Madhavi) won the first prize in Art in her school for Class I
=========================================================
MARATHI ARTICLES
paa{]sa
taovhacaa à Aa
mao maihnaa saMpata Aalaa AsataanaahI baahor rNarNataM {na Aaho, SaaLaMnaa sauÕËa Aahotaca, yaa ASyaa dupaarI maajaGaratalyaa gaarvyaata gallaItalyaa ima~a maOi~aNaI ikMxvaa Aalaolao paahuNao naataovaa[-kx yaaMcyaabaraobar pa
jara paavasaacaa jaaor vaaZtaao, qaoMba jaasta Tpaaoro haotaata, hataavar jaaorata maar basaayalaa laagataao, iTparIhI jaasta jaaorata Aavaaja kxr] laagatao AaiNa kxaya? gaara vaocaNyaasaazI sagaLËaMcaI QaDpaD saur] haotao, gaara CaoTËa, lahana AsataIla tar hataataca {YNataonao ivataLtaata, paNa maaozËa AsataIla tar fuxlapaa~aata jamaa kxrNyaacaI QaDpaD saur] haotao, maga paazIvarcao GaamaaoLohI Taocaonaasao haotao.
Asaa Aamacaa taovhacaa paa{]sa! nagarsaarKyaa kxaorDËa hvaota baalapaNa gaolyaamauLo +a vaaLvaacyaa paavasaacaa AnauBava satata yaayacaa, AajahI mao maihnaa saMpata Aalaa kxI maI tyaa vaaLvaacyaa paavasaacyaa AazvaNaIta rmatao. taao ivajaaMcaa kxDkxDaT, ZgaaMcaa gaDgaDaT, saaosaaTËacaa vaara, iTpa%yaaMcaa Aavaaja Aazvataao. tyaanaMtar SaaLa kxa^laojao\sa jaUna maihnyaata saur] haotaanaa paavasaalaa vaogavaogaLo rMga imasaLayalaa laagataata, nagarlaa paa{]sa kxmaI AaiNa SaaLa javaL Asalyaanao Aamhalaa C~aIcaI caOna kxQaIca kxrayalaa imaLalaI naahI. kxarNa paavasaacaI sar saMpalyaavar paLta paLta SaaLota jaaNao ikMxvaa yaoNao ho gaRhItaca Qarlaolao Asaayacao. nagarsaarKyaa ‘ronaSa^DaomaQyao’ Asalaolyaa gaavaata paa{]sa kxmaIca Asataao. tyaamauLo mauMba[-saarKaI jaUna ikMxvaa jaulaO maQyao paavasaamauLo “SaaLolaa sauÕI” ASaI majaa Aamhalaa kxQaIca {paBaaogaayalaa imaLta nasao, paNa kxa^laojaata AsataanaahI lahana maulaasaarKa paavasaata naacaayalaa AavaDayaca AaiNa vaaLvaacyaa iTpa%yaaMcaa naad kxanaata iSarlaa kxI
paa{]sa Aalaa, vaara Aalaa, paana laagalao naacaU!
qaoMba Tpaaoro gaaoro gaaoro, BarBar gaara vaocaU ||
ASaI Avasqaa haota Asao. tyaa vayaata paavasaata iBajalyaanao sadI- JaalaolaI vya>xI maaJyaatarI pahaNyaata naahI. Asa kxaOtaukx tyaavaoLcyaa paavasaata navhtaca. paNa paa{]sa paDUna gaolyaavar sagaL kxsa sauMdr, svacC, rmya, saujalaama, saufxlaama haota Asao ho maa~a na@kxI.
darata, AMgaNaata paarIjaatakxacaa saDa paDayalaa laagao. daravarcyaa jaa[-, jau[-, camaolaI saugaMQa {QaLta AaiNa ra~a paDayalaa laagalyaavar AakxaSaatalyaa caaMdNyaa taaoDUna AMgaavar imarvata, rstyaavar baucaacyaa fuxlaaMcaa gaailacaa AMqarlaolaa Asao. Asao vaOBava taovhacyaa paavasaataca saRYTI {QaLta Asalyaanao taao paa{]sa pauZIla AayauYyaacaa zovaa banalaa tar navala kxaoNatao?
lagna Jaalyaavar mauMba[-laa Aalyaavar eipa`la saMpalyaavar sagaLIkxDo cacaa- eokUx
paNa maulaM SaaLota jaayalaa laagalyaavar AaiNa maI naaokxrI kxrayalaa laagalyaavar nakxLta maI hI yaa cacao-ta AaoZlaI jaayalaa laagalao. maI hI maaJaI matao maaMDU laagalao. maaJao AMdaja maI hI saaMgaayalaa laagalao, AaiNa jaUna jaulaO, Aa^gasT AaiNa AQaa- sapToMbar ho xpaavasaaLI maihnao manaata r]MjaI GaalaU laagalao. vaoLapa~akx zrvataanaa, kxaya-k`xma zrvataanaa, pargaavaI jaataanaa yaa maihnyaaMnaa AaiNa paDNaa%yaa paavasaalaa gaRhIta Qar] laagalao, Asaa ha Aa
mauMba[-caa paa{]sa maa~a fxarca rMgatadar Asataao. [qao gaaraMcaa vaYaa-va kxQaIca haota naahI, paNa ivajaaMcaa kxDkxDaT, ZgaaMcaa gaDgaDaT AaiNa saaosaaTËacaa vaara pauZo salaamaIlaa yaotaata AaiNa paavasaacyaa AagamanaacaI vadI- dotaata. paNa tarI mauMba[-caa paa{]sa drvaYaI- vaogavaogaLo rMga daKavataao. kxQaI kxQaI AgadI vaoLovar hjar hao{]na maga maaozËa rjaovar jaataao, tar kxQaI 10 tao 15 idvasa vaaT pahayalaa laavaUna maga jaaordar kxaosaLtaao. kxQaI kxQaI idvasaBar kxDkx {]na paDlyaavar saMQyaakxaLI naomaanao kxaosaLtaao AaiNa savaa-Mca GarI jaaNyaaca vaoLapa~akx ibaGaDvaUna Takxtaao. ASaI gammata koxlyaavar 15 à20 idvasa dDI maartaao. kxQaI kxQaI 2à3 idvasara~a [takxa kxaosaLtaao kxI saarI mauMba[- vaahUna jaatao kxI kxaya Asao vaaTtao. Asaa ha rgaola AaiNa rMgaola paa{]sa!
tarIhI samaud`ikxnaarI +a paavasaaLËataIla paa{]sa inaraLaca vaaTtaao, BartaIcyaa laaTaMcao naRtya AtyaMta pa`oXaiNaya idsata Asaola tar tao paavasaaLËataca AaiNa tao hI vaTpaaOiNa-maocyaa Aasapaasaca! tao naRtya KaraoKarca laXa vaoQaNaaro Asatao, tao baGaayalaa samaud`ikxnaarIca jaayalaa hvao, tasaca jar saMQyaakxaLI samaud`kxÕËavar basalaao tar Qaavata yaoNaara paa{]sa ho dRYya [tar kuxzo hI idsaNar naahI tao paavasaaLËataca Aapalyaalaa idsaU Sakxta. Asa ho rtnaakxraca ivalaaoBanaIya vaOBava AapaNa makxrMdvaasaIya {paBaaogaU Sakxtaao. tyaasaazI Aapalyaalaa dUr jaaNyaacaI jar]rIca naahI.
paavasaaLËata paa{]sa paDta Asataanaa dUr DaoMgarda%yaataUna GaaTataUna idsaNaaro dRYya tar AapaNa ivasar]ca Sakxta naahI. QaUsar Jaalaolyaa pa`kxaSaata idsaNaarI DaoMgar raMga pahataanaa Aazvata kxI
DaoMgaracaI idsao dUr raMga|
kxajaLacaI jaNaU daT roGa ||
AaiNa ASaa +a QaUsar kxatarvaoLosaca ekxdma ipavaLa ikMxvaa gaulaabaI pa`kxaSa yaotaao AaiNa taao paahtaanaa mana AanaMdanao Bar]na jaata. ASaa pa`kxaSaata maaokxLyaa maOdanaavar ikMxvaa rstyaavar ifxrayalaa imaLala tar taao AnauBava Sabdata saaMgaNa kxzINaca! taao {paBaaogaunaca lauTayacaa Asataao.
paavasaacaa maI Gaotalaolaa AnauBava AaiNa malaa AalaolaI AnauBautaI maI saaMgatao, 1 sapToMbarcaI taarIKa haotaI, paa{]sa javaL javaL saMpalaaca Asa vaaTta haota. mhNaUna tauMgaaroEvaralaa AamacaI iSaXakxaMcaI sahla zrvalaI. Aamacyaa daonhI basaosa mauMba[-baahor gaolyaavar kxahIca kxlpanaa nasataanaa ekxdma QauMvaaQaar paa{]sa saur] Jaalaa. vasa[-javaL TokxDIvar ekx Dakx baMgalaa Aaho. itaqao cahafxraL, jaovaNa Asaa kxaya-k`xma zrlaa haotaa. gaolyaavar caha Jaalyaavar paa{]sa qaaMbalaa AaiNa AamhI tauMgaaroEvarlaa jaaNyaasaazI inaGaalaao. basaosa AQyaa- vaaTovarca saaoDavyaa laagalyaa kxarNa pauZo icaKala haotaa, ekx AaoZa haotaa. AaoZËalaa gauZGaaBar paaNaI haotao tyaataUna AamhI taSaaca pauZo inaGaalaao, tar pauZo AsaNaaro AaohaoL Kaupa maaozo AaiNa Kaaola Jaalao haotao. tasaoca DaoMgaravar]na paaNyaacao laaoT yaota haotao AaiNa vaaThI fxar inasarDI JaalaI haotaI. mhNaUna maagao ifxrlaao tar AaQaI jyaa AaoZËalaa gauZGaaBar paaNaI haotao tao Aataa maaJyaa kxmaro[takox Jaalao haotao. tar kxahIMcyaa gaLËa[takox haotao.
maga javaLca ekx SaMkxracao do{]L haotao itaqao Aamha 20 25 jaNaIMcaa GaoLkxa gaolaa tar AatamaQao baOragaI icalaIma, gaaMjaa AaoZta basalao haotao. tyaaMnaIhI ‘Aavaao bahonajaI’ mhNata AamhaMlaa basaayalaa kxaMbaLo TakUxna idlaI. paa{]sahI Kaupa paDayalaa laagalaa. taovaZËata ekx KaoDUna itaqao Aalaa AaiNa mhNaalaa maI taumhaMlaa rstyaapaya-Mta saaoDtaao, paNa vaaT jaMgalaataUna Aaho, paayavaaTonao jaavao laagaola, AaiNa itaqao ikxtaI vaoL basaNaar, iSavaaya Aamacaa ga`upahI maaoza haotaa tyaamauLo iBataI vaaTlaI naahI.
javaL javaL ekx taasa AamhI jaMgalaataUna rpaoT kxr]na rstyaavar Aalaao. mauMba[-javaL tauMgaaroEvarcyaa pairsarata [takox daT jaMgala Aaho yaacaI kxQaI kxlpanaahI navhtaI. rstyaata paaNyaacao paaT vahata haotao. tao AaohaoL AaolaaMDavao laagalao. jaMgalaacyaa svacC Jaalaolyaa JaaDaMvarIla paanaaMcyaa ihrvyaa CTa, jaMgalaacaa maadkx vaasa, jaMgalaatalyaa ranafuxlaaMnaI Dvarlaolyaa vaolaI, taao Aaolaa gaarvaa, irmaiJama paDNaara paa{]sa AaiNa svacC inama-L JaalaolaI hvaa, yaaMcaa {paBaaoga Gaotaa Gaotaa taao ekx taasa kxsaa gaolaa AaiNa AamhI basapaya-Mta kxQaI Aalaao tao kxLlaoca naahI. taao AanaMd Sabdata vaNa-na kxrNa ASa@yaca Aaho. taovha malaa ek kxivataa saucalaI
Aaja vaaTtao paunha maRgaacyaa sarIta paihlyaa nhavao |
mama nayananaI [Md`Qanaucao rMga paunha maI pyaavao ||1||
Aaja vaaTtao BaavaMDasavao paavasaata ihMDavao |
TpaTpaNaa%yaa paagaaoLËaMnaa mauzIta maI pakxDavao ||2||
Aaja vaaTtao ranaamaQyao svacCMdo ivahravao |
paanaavarcyaa hrIta CTaMnaa AMgaavartaI lyaavao ||3||
Aaja vaaTtao ranafuxlaaMnaa KauDUnaI maI Gyaavao |
maadkx tyaacyaa vaasaamaQyao Baanaca hrpaavao ||4||
Aaja vaaTtao KaLKaLNaa%yaa AaoZËakxazI basaavao |
sausvar tyaaMcyaa naadamaQyao rMgaunaIyaa jaavao ||5||
Aaja vaaTtao paunha ekxda maagao vaLunaI jaavao |
gata saaOKyaacao AmaRtaibaMdU AaoMjaLIta maI Gyaavao ||6||
ivajayaa dMDo
8 maaQavaI
saUya-dovaacaI AartaI
jaya dova jaya dova jaya saUya-dovaa
ra~aMidna caalatasao taumacaI janasaovaa… ||QaR||
QaDQaDtaI QagaQagataI kxaoTËanaukxaoTI
ANauroNaU pa`sfuxTtaI inata taumacyaa paaoTI
jaaLUnaI inajaAMtar {]jaa- ivaEvaalaa
do{]naI paaoYaItaa ‘dova’ taumhI Jaalaa… ||1||
taapauvanaI saagarjala vaafxvataa taumhI
vaafoxcaa paa{]sa taao Aaolaivataao BaUmaI
BaUmaIcyaa AÙaanao jaIvasaRYTI fuxlatao
ya&aanao taumacyaa ho jaIvacak`x ifxrtao… ||2||
naomaanao {gavaUnaI saRYTI {jaLItaa
haotaaca kxayaa-caI paUtaI- maavaLtaa
ifxrNaa%yaa paRqvaIlaa Ptaucak`x dotaa
‘tapa’ taumacao inatya caalao naa qakxtaa naa caukxtaa… ||3||
pa`aNaaMcyaa paaMcaI hI laavauinayaa jyaaotaI
AaovaaLU taojaalaa taumacyaa AartaI
taaoYaaonaI Aamhalaa AaSaIva-ca Vavaa
AvaGao jaga haca ekx pairvaar vhavaa… ||4||
baaLkRxYNa kuxlakxNaI- (8à3à1991)
7 SaofxalaI
Aamacaa paairjaata
Aamacao icarobaMdI Gar va daratalaa paairjaata yaaMcaa kxaoNaI sahjahI {llaoKa koxlaa tar maaJyaa manaI maa~a taao ekx jabardsta maaohaoL caalaavaUna jaataao. jaunyaa smaRtaIMcyaa taara {gaIcaca JaMkxartaata.
Aamacyaa yaa kxaokxNacyaa Garacyaa pairsarata Aajaubaajaulaa Aalaao kxI yaa paairjaatakxacyaa AazvaNaInao AgadI kxahItarI Bar]na Aalaolao Asatao. qaaoDËaca vaoLata tyaacao dSa-na haoNaar mhNaUna hurhur daTUna raihlaolao Asatao. ha pa`aja@ta maaJaa AgadI baalaima~a. maaJyaa AazvaNaIpaasaUna taao yaa jaagaI Asaa Qyaanasta {Baa Aaho. Aamacyaa baraobarca taao lahanaacaa maaoza Jaalaa. pataJaDIcyaa jaanaovaarI maaca- yaa kxaLata taao AgadI raoDavataao, inaYpaNa-haotaao. AgadI hataapaayaacyaa kxaDËa JaalyaasaarKyaa idsaU laagataao. eKaaddusaro fUxla Tpakxna KaalaI Takxtaao. taovha vaaTtao ha AEa`u ZaLtaao Aaho. vasaMtaPutauta paunha tarartaao, taar]NyaacaI {BaarI Qartaao. sahs~a pauYpaaMnaI Dvartaao. hsaU laagataao. ra~aI kxLËaMcaI AaoMjaL Bar]na {Baa zakxtaao taovha AasamaMta sauvaasaanao QaUMd kxrIta Asataao.
gaolyaa AazvaDËatalaIca AamacaI BaoT saaMgataao. saDkxolagata {tarlaao tar naukxtaIca pahaT vhayalaa laagalaolaI. sava-~a AMQaar. paXaaMcaI {gaIcaca qaaoDI cauLbauL saUr] JaalaolaI. AgadI naIrva SaaMtataa, maaJyaa baalaima~aalaa BaoTayalaa maIhI {tsaukx. Garacyaa qaaoDa javaL yaotaao taao maMdmaQaur sauvaasaacaI ASaI ekx laaTca AMgaavar yaotao kxI maI manaaomanaI samajataao kxI ho maaJyaa baalaima~aacao svaagatar]paca Aaho. Garata paa{]la TakxNyaapauvaI- ivajaocaa Jaaota tyaacyaavar TakUxna tyaalaa nyaahaLtaao va maI Aalyaacao saaMgataao. jaaga`NaamauLo sakxaLI jara {SaIraca {ztaao. tar kxaya saMpaUNa- AMgaNaca paaMZ%yaaSauBa` fuxlaaMnaI gacca Barlaolao. yaa maaJyaa ima~aanao maaJyaasaazI AgadI paayaGaDËaca AMqarlaolyaa. yaa svaagataanao maI paar BaaravaUna jaataao. yaa maaJyaa ima~aacyaa KaupaKaupa jaunyaa AazvaNaI kxaZta rhataao.
Aamacyaa baalapaNaIcaa kxaL. mhNajao paar AQa- Satakx maagao jaa. tyaakxaLI gaavaaMta maMgaLagaaOrI va AaYaaZEa`avaNaatalaI va`tavaOkxlyao {tsava QaUmaQaDa@yaata caalaayacao. paairjaatakxhI paanaafuxlaaMnaI Dvarlaolaa paavasaacyaa saMtata Qaarata svacC, sauMdr, sausnaata fuxlaaMcaI paKarNa Qar]na raihlaolaa. gaavaatalyaa naukxtyaaca lagna Jaalaolyaa navyaa navhaLIcyaa vaSaoLyaa maMgaLagaaOrIsaazI fuxlao paanao gaaoLa kxrayalaa Aamacyaa GarI
Aokx majaoSaIr AazvaNa yaotaoya. taao kxala ina Aamacao vaya vas~asaMskRxtaIcyaa AilakxDcao. yaa vayaacyaa maulaamaulaIMnaa {GaDobaMba ifxrayalaa ina:saMkxaoca. Aamacyaa pa`aja@taaKaalaI ASaI ekx mau@ta TaoLI. malaa kxaya vaaTlao na kxLo. paNa tyaatalyaaMca Aokxa maulaamaulaIMcyaa jaaoDIlaa pa`aja@taaKaalaI {Bao rhayalaa saaMigatalao ina gadgad pa`aja@ta hlavalaa. tyaa jaaoDIvar hjaarao pauYpaaXataaMcaI {QaLNa. AamhI sava- AaorDtaao “taumacao lagna laagalao. SauBamaMgala saavaQaana.” dovaaMnaIca AXataa Takxlyaa. “navaranavarI” AXarSa: laajalaolaI. AjaUnahI AazvaNaIsarSaI dRSya saakxartao.
Aamacyaa caar ipaZËa pa`aja@taanao paaihlyaa. maulabaaLI mauMba[-laa inaGaalaI kxI tyaanao saaEa`u inaraopa Vavaa. GarI AalaI kxI fuxlaaravao. Asao ho Anaokx vaYa- caalalao Aaho. paNa “jaatao AV SakuMxtalaa paitagaRho
savao-rnau&aayataama|” yaa qaaTacaa pa`saMga maa~a tyaanao paaihlaolaa naahI. kxarNa Aamacyaa yaa icarobaMdI Garanao vaQaucaI paazvaNaIca kxQaI kolaolaI naahI. tyaamauLo vaLunavaLuna saaEa`unayanaaMnaI tyaajakxDo pahaNaarI vaQau tyaanao paaihlaolaI naahI. Aataa AamhI tyaacyaa mauLaSaI sauMdrsaa icarobaMdI caaOqara baaMQalaa Aaho. GarasaarKaa. kxarNa Aamacyaa icarobaMdI Garacao AaiNa tyaacao [takox AtauT naatao Aaho. AjaunahI AamacaI naatavaMD r]sauna basaayalaa hIca jaagaa pasaMta kxrtaata. tyaaMnaa maaihta Asata kxI paairjaata fuxlaaMcaI Alagad TpalaI Dao@yaavar maarNaar ina Aapalyaalaa hsaayalaa laavaNaar.
sa. SaaM. dataar
16 maillakxa
saahobaacaI A^Tma ba^ga
ANauSai>x, {jaa-Sai>
kxI XaopaNaas~ao mahakxaya
saahobaaMcyaa ipaSavaIta
Aaho tarI kxaya?
ivaTkxI, maLkxI vaYaa-caI
paNa ipa`ya
saahobaaMcyaa hataavar itacao AZL Qa`uvasqaana
=dyaacyaa javaiLkoxcaa
Dusa%yaa kxaoNaa naahI maana
inavaR
tyaaMcyaa saMgao carNaarI
maa~a naaita caraima mhNaNaarI
kuxzo daNao, kuxzo caNao
paoZo bafxI- AaiNa fuxTaNao
sadacao caaocaIta kxahI baahI
saayabaaMnaa tyaaivanaa rahvata naahI
AapaNa {paaSaI rhataata
italaa maa~a Barvataata
idvasa saMpataao AazvaU laagatao
saahobaaMnaa Gardar
saaobata ipaSavaI gaaola baaLsaodar
parta taoca {Va hao[-la
saaoba saMgao ipaSavaIbaa[-
taaoca taaza taaoca r]baaba
jaana jaa[- par ipaSavaI na do[-
gaaobaa-caaovhnaohI idlaI
ipaSavaI yaoltaisanacyaa hataI
saahoba ekx ivanaMtaI
taI kxaoNaa hataI
(QaumaosaahobaaMcaI ipaSavaI)
sa. SaaM. Dataar
16 maillakxa
manaaogata
“yaMda saaosaayaTI Dolaa maaozËa maaNasaaMcao naaTkx haoNaar naahI Asao eokxlao”
“hllaI paUvaI-caa {tsaahca raihlaa naahI paUvaI- ekx maihnaa AaQaI kxLayacao kxI naaTkxacaI taalaIma saur] JaalaI, paNa gaolao tao idvasa. pa`yatna koxlaa tar s~aIpaa~a imaLtaIlahI. paNa paur]Yapaa~a kxaoNaI pauZoca yaota naahI. AgadI Aaja-va koxlaI tarI haokxar imaLta naahI. {
“maaozËaMcyaa naaTkxaiSavaaya saaosaayaTI Do! Co majaa yaoNaar naahI. paur]Yapaa~aaKaorIja eKaado naaTkx inavaDlao tar…”
Ahao paNa fx@ta maulaaMcao kxrmaNaukxIcao kxaya-k`xma Jaalao tar ibaGaDtao kuxzo? naaTkxca paaihjao ha kxsalaa Aaga`h! yaa inaima
“idvaaLI, kxaojaaigarIlaa yaotaaoca kxI AapaNa sava-jaNa paNa naaTkxacaI majaa vaogaLIca.”
“evaZoca vaaTtao tar eKaado vyaavasaaiyakx naaTkxkxaraMcao naaTkx zovalao kxI Jaalao, ekx~a basaUna baGaU.”
“tyaata kxsalaI majaa, sahainavaasaataIla sadsya naaTkxata kxamao kxrtaata taovha tao Aapalao naaTkx vaaTtao. tyaacaI sar kxSaI yaoNaar? taI naaTkxo naaTkxgaRhata jaa{]nahI baGataa yaotaata.”
AamhI sava-jaNaI gappaa maarta Asataanaa yaa naa tyaa kxarNaamauLo saaosaayaTI Docaa ivaYaya inaGaayacaa AaiNa pauvaI-caa saaosaayaTI Do AaiNa Aajacaa yaavar taulanaatmakx saaQakx baaQakx na saMpaNaarI cacaa- saur] vhayacaI.
manaata Anaokx ivacaar {d\Bavalao Karca laaokxaMcaa ivaSaoYata: maaozËa laaokxaMcaa {tsaah kxmaI Jaalaa Aaho kxa? yaa ipaZIlaa vyavasaayaXao~aanao [takox jaKaDUna zovalao Aaho kxI [cCa AsalaI tarI inavvaL vaoLocyaa ABaavaI taalamaIMnaa yaoNao Sa@ya nasatao. AaiNa taalamaIiSavaaya naaTkx kxsao haoNaar?
sahinavaasaataIla AapalaI pauZcaI ipaZI AapaAapalyaa Xao~aata pa`gaita kxrIta Aahota ho inaiva-vaad Aaho. ekMxdrIta jaIvanaca QaavapaLIcao Jaalao Aaho ho hI taovaZoca satya Aaho. ZaobaLmaanaanao paahtaa pauZcaI ipaZI svataM~a vyavasaayaata gauMtalaolaI Aaho. AaiNa ekxda svata:caa vyavasaaya mhTlaa kxI AapaNa varvar paahtaa kxaoNaacyaa taabyaata nasataao, paNa vaoL maa~a satata Aapalaa taabaa Gaota Asataao.
{tsaah kxmaI Jaalaa Aaho kxa vaoLocaI sababa saaMgata Aahota yaavar fx@ta cacaa- na kxrtaa, vaYaa-nauvaYao- caalata Aalaolaa AaiNa AajahI AnaokxjaNa {paisqata rhata AsaNaara ‘Aapalaa saaosaayaTI Do’ vaogaLËa pawtaInao saajara kxrtaa
1. qaaoDËa idvasaata naaTkx inavaDUna maga tao basavaNaM hoca mauLata kxzINa kxama Aaho. tyaasaazI saaosaayaTI Docyaa AaQaI ikxmaana daona taIna maihnao naaTkxacaI taalaIma saur] vhayalaa hvaI. mhNajao vaoL va [cCaSai>x yaaMcaa maoL basavataa
rivavaar zovalyaasa SaovaTcaI QaavapaL kxravaI laagaNaar naahI. tasaoca maaozo daona taIna AMkxI naaTkx basavaNao kxzINa jaata Asaola tar ekxaMikxkxa, ekxpaa~aI pa`yaaoga, ivaivaQa naaTËpa`vaoSa Aqavaa qaaoDËaca BaUimakxa AsalaolaI naaTkox pa`yaaogaatmakx kxr]na baGaayavaasa hrkxta naahI.
2. naaTkx basavaNaM Sa@ya nasaola, vaoLocyaa ABaavaI jamata nasaola tar 18 tao 60 vayaaogaTasaazI Anaokx kxaya-k`xmaaMcyaa spaQaa- zovaavyaata. {dahrNaaqa-:
· Aaovyaa ivaivaQa rcanaota, ivaivaQa ZMgaata gaa{]na jaunyaatalaa gaaoDvaa kxayama zovaNao
· Aa[- maulagaI, saasaU sauna, baihNa Baa{], navara baayakxao, saasara sauna, saasara jaava[-, saasaU jaava[-, ASaa jaaoDËaMcaa spaQaa-tmakx Aqavaa spaQao-iSavaaya kxaya-k`xma
· sava- ipaZIMcao pa`aitainaQatva AsaNaarI ekx kximaTI naomaUna tyaaMcyaataIla ivacaaraMcao Aadana pa`dana hao{]na kxaya-k`xma zrvalao jaavaota. yaamauLo jaunao tao saaonao, maQalyaa ipaZIcaa saMimaEa` kxlpanaaivalaasa va navaIna ipaZIcaa navaa {nmaoYa ekxi~ata yaotaIla.
3. saVisqataIta mahtvaacao ivaYaya inavaDUna tyaavar vatkRxtva spaQaa- Aayaaoijata kxrNao. SaaLa, mahaivaValayaata ikMxvaa [tar izkxaNaI Baaga GaoNaa%yaaMnaa Aapalyaaca AaMgaNaata Aapalyaa laaokxaMsamaaor baaolaNao kxdaicata AavaDola.
4. naaTkx haoNaar nasaola tar tyaavar haoNaara Kaca- saaosaayaTI Docyaa idvaSaI Aayaaoijata kxrNyaata yaoNaa%yaa jaovaNaasaazI vaaparlyaasa kxmaI AakxaramauLo AnaokxjaNaaMnaa sahBaagaI haotaa
naaTkx mahtvaacao, hvaohvaosao vaaTNaaro paNa Sa@yaca nasaola tar ho payaa-ya kxr]na baGaNyaasa hrkxta naahI Asaaca saur haotaa.
(gaaOrI jaaoSaI, Ea`IkRxYNa jaaoga, AnauraQaa jaaoga, ivajayaa dMDo, kuMxda saamaMta va jayaMta sauLo yaaMcyaaSaI Jaalaolyaa saMvaadataUna)
pa`itamaa hvaaladar
19 maillakxa
jaga kxsaM caalataM
jaga kxsaM caalataM?
ASaI maaNasaM BaoTtaata mhNaUna jaga caalata ||
pa`kxaSaacaa ikxrNahI nasalaolyaa +a AayauYyaata
kuxNaItarI AaQaar dota, kuxNaI ivaEvaasa fuxlavata
kxQaI pa`omaacaI barsaata haotao, tar kxQaI sauKaacaa vaYaa-va haotaao
AaiNa mhNaUnaca jaga caalata |
sagaLIkxDoca fxsavaI dladla nasatao
maKamalaI ihrvaLhI BaoTtao vaaTota
rMgaIta, hsarI fuxlaohI {malalaolaI idsataata
vaa%yaacyaa JauLukxIvar taala Qarta AanaMdanao Daolataata
AaiNa mhNaUnaca jaga caalata |
idvasaanauidvasa, vaYaa-nauvaYa-, yaugaanauyaugao
QagaQagatyaa, rNarNatyaa {nhaLËanaMtar
vaYaa-Ptau yaotaao, sarIvar sarI naRtya kxrtaata
qaMDsaa Aaolaavaa dotaata sauKad
gaarvaa sauKad AaNataata
AaiNa mhNaUnaca jaga caalata |
ha navacaOtanyaacaa AaivaYkxar
=dyaata fuxlavataao svaanaMd, manaalaa {maod dotaao
tyaa XaNaI AMtarMgaataUna Sabd yaotaata
“[qalao sava- inavaDuMga inaYkMxTkx haotaIla
ihMs~a paSau Aapalao k`xaOya- saaoDUna dotaIla
maaNasaM XamaaSaIla haotaIla, tyaacavaoLI
tyaacyaa naatyaatalaM maaQauya-, saaOMdya-, Kaulaola
AaiNa taovhaca ho AarspaanaI jaga
caalata rahIla, AnaMta Anaaidkxala |
maga dahI idSaaMnaa GaumataIla saUr
satyama\ iSavama\ sauMdrma\ ||
ekx saBaasad
EDITOR'S BLOCK
Foreword
It gives me great pleasure to present yet another issue of our annual Smaranika. I was afraid that due to lack of time our youngsters may not be able to contribute to the Smaranika this year. But thanks to Sanika Samant and Khyati Sindhwani, we have the essays and drawings from our budding writers and artists. We have to thank Neena Kulkarni for judging the essays and Soha Kulkarni for the drawings.
I have to thank those who contributed to the Smaranika with articles and poems (without having to organize a competition!). Mr. V.V. Nigudkar’s experience of running the half marathon is inspiring. Mrs. Vijaya Dande easily takes the reader along with her on the nostalgic journey about the rains. Mr. S.S Datar brings the fragrance of Parijaat to the Smaranika. Salil Datar’s article on the two investment options is informative. While Gurukaka Rege’s tongue in cheek observations about the everyday life in provincial
I wish the schools taught EVS with the help of poems like ‘Suryachi Aarti’, by Mr. Balkrishna Kulkarni. Shyamala Datar, Mihika Barve, S.S. Datar and Nissim Gore Datar’s poems add a touch of humour to the Smaranika. While a poem by ‘Ek Sabhasad’ gives our Smaranika a touch of mystery. This year we have an overseas contribution to the Smaranika, a poem by Natasha Halrankar (Suja Shridhankar’s daughter). We have another ‘overseas’ contribution (well she lives in Bandra, so I guess one could call it that), from Anika Havaldar, who has sent us an excellent article. Let us hope this starts a new trend and more and more of our cousins participate in the activities here.
This year we had a group of professionals who performed a play on Saturday night of the Society Day. One has to applaud Mrs. Manisha Dande’s efforts who kept the ‘Saturday night play’ tradition going against all odds. But when I first heard that there would be this play instead of the regular Mothya Mansanche Naatak (pun unintentional), I was not sure how I felt about this new precedent.
Having lived here all my life and participated actively in the society day celebrations throughout my childhood, it is difficult for me look at this event objectively and question its relevance in today’s time. But I think that maybe it is time to rethink on the format of our society day. Of course more people are needed to participate in this process and generate new ideas to revive this ‘tradition’, which is fast losing its earlier enthusiasm (this last is my opinion, others, may disagree). I am glad that Meeramaushi (Pratima Havaladar) came to my rescue and agreed to put her thoughts on paper in order to initiate this process. Let us hope that the next society day will see the return of that enthusiasm and maybe even a new format that is more suitable for the present times.
Thanks to the efforts put in by Soha Kulkarni, the Smaranika is going on line from this year and will be available on:
Blog: http://makarandmemories.blogspot.com/
Facebook Group: Makarand Memories
Mrunalini Jog
3-4, Joothica
ARTICLES
Never quit running the marathon
I was extremely thrilled to run the Standard Chartered Mumbai Marathon on the 16th of January this year. Being my eighth marathon as a super veteran participant since its inception, only added to my thrill. Mild chill in the weather invigorated the runners in skimpy shorts and vests.
Bandra reclamation ground near Rang Sharada hotel was the starting point for half marathon, i.e a run of 21.097 kms. This largest group of runners, numbering over 11500, warmed up for a while by spot jogging to kick off the biggest thrill of all- to cross Mumbai’s new Bandra Worli Sea Link (BWSL). At 6.15 am the gun went off and the runners surged out of the gate.
A pack of highly trained serious runners quickly shot ahead of the rest, while runners like me tailed them, avoiding a push and a shove. My objective at my age of 73 was to cross the finish line in time, obtain a meal and a time certificate, as well as to enjoy the overwhelming experience. We were equipped with a timing chip that is recognized in marathons across the world, to get an accurate record of finishing time.
The half marathon provides a chance to a fitness enthusiast like me to run in the footsteps of the elite foreign and Indian athletes, corporate top brass, celebrities and many others. It is a unique experience.
The opportunity to gallop across six kms BWSL, the architectural pride of Mumbai, was great. At one point there is an incline down and as I looked ahead, I could see the whole bridge packed with runners. It was a marvelous sight. The sun was rising over the city and a helicopter was hovering in the sky, keeping a watch and accepting the greetings of the runners who waved at the pilots.
The best feature of this marathon was that it was a competition where all were winners in their own right and both the overtaking and being overtaken was motivating. Mumbai’s quaint spirit seemed to be at its best when I saw a middle aged man in a superman costume running close to me. A physically challenged participant showed his grit and determination and spread the wind of happiness and inspiration. The greetings by the commandos and police force in uniform, was a pleasure to treasure. I love this gallant breed. Tears of pride well in my eyes when I see and greet these extraordinary officers decorated with medals blazing across their chests. Their valor never ceases to astound and touch me.
Once we exited the sea link, we encountered another enthralling Mumbai sight- people lined up with bottles of water and trays of biscuits and oranges (even peeled ones) ready to eat. The support from cheerleaders, particularly hundreds of children along the way, was great. When I was at the Chowpatty sea face, the sun was bright and the heat had started impacting the speed. To avoid the cramps I opted for a generous ice cube massage at the hands of young boys and girls very eager to help. The star attraction on the Marine Drive promenade was the navy band belting out excellent songs entertaining the gathering around. I also saw a part of the dream run fun and watched large crowds, Corporates, NGOs, cause related or just friends merrily running around. They held aloft banners and placards with messages about saving water, cancer awareness, declaring third world war against terrorism, Gandhigiri, a flavour of patriotism as also depicting themes like religious harmony though scenes and dresses of the participants.
Every year a number of volunteers, organizations and individuals run the marathon for causes like supporting the girl child, the under privileged, aids awareness etc. many celebrities and business honchos have associated themselves with this marathon for the past few years helping many NGOs and associations to raise funds for charity. Charity funds scaled to Rs 9-10 crores in the year 2010!
There are a few lessons learnt by participating in this marathon. Personally I learnt that ones advanced age poses absolutely no bar for an active and productive life as long as it is backed by rigorous discipline. A lifetime of regular exercise (such as calisthenics, running, swimming, yoga etc., especially in conjunction) would extend life while enhancing vitality and improving its quality. The fact that it will also virtually eliminate any expenses on hospital bills, medicines etc., keep away insomnia and other dreaded diseases related to old age, is a valuable by product! Indeed as Oliver Wendell holms observed,
“Men do not quit playing because they grow old. They grow old men because they quit playing.”
V V Nigudkar
13, Mallika
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“It’s funny how, every single day, all these years, whenever we meet, we have a whole new series of topics to talk about and at that moment we realize an evening is not enough.”
Growing up in a huge colony such as ours had its own advantages. Here there was no time to be alone… no time to get bored!! In short, there was never a dull evening!
From the age of six or even before that… we, a mixed bag of eight to ten boys and girls, spent every single evening together…playing hide and seek, chor- police, dumb charades etc. And later, table tennis, carrom, cricket and many such innovative games! Most of these evenings included fights, bruising of a knee or an elbow, group politics, howling and screaming. But this was the best part of the day for us! A few hours with friends whom we knew so well…we all were almost a family!
Years passed by and we realized we all were growing up...very fast!! Responsibilities increased, career goals widened and we could not spend those few valuable hours with each other every day now. But sitting down on the katta had become a habit! It was almost a compulsive disorder. Discussions of work and life were important at that time. Circumstances changed and some of us moved away, some had no time to hang out and most of us waited for that Sunday when we all would meet again!
Yes…we had grown up!!!
But there came a weekend every year which brought us back to that katta! An exciting weekend with memories attached. It was our Society Day weekend.
There is magic about this ‘3-day celebration’! It somehow brings a feeling of unity and pride within each member associated with it.
Everyone takes time out from their busy schedules to be present to be a part of this prestigious event- which has an authentic value to it now! It makes all of us staying here for years; believe this is the power of the bond we share.
Every generation has its special group and its own story to tell. And this time of the year ‘Makarand’ hears these same stories time and again through every generation! But she proudly stands amongst us with equal enthusiasm to hear more about the times we have spent with her!
Their hopeful faces brought back these treasured memories as I watched, from my bedroom window, a fresh group of friends huddled together discussing how to celebrate this ‘special weekend’- Their Way!
Beside them was the empty katta, waiting eagerly for the new group...
We only advice our Gen-next to continue this tradition, as we did unwittingly, with the same amount of love; so we get to spend a precious weekend with our Family- MAKARAND!
Soha Kulkarni
7 Joothica
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This one is for all Makarndiites!!!!
M any a troubles together we share
A lways rushing here and there
K ind words we hear from our Ajobas n Ajjis
A nd free kisses from the cute babies
R aring to go are our youngsters
A dmirable are their efforts in studies
and are their parents stress busters
N ever a dull evening will you find in our compound
D ogs and kittens also can always be found
A ll age groups find solace in whatever frame of mind
Shyamala Datar
16 Mallika
My Experience With Natueco City Farming in Makarand
At some point in the last few months, you might have noticed the presence of some plants on the society office building, or what is lovingly called ‘auntie cha wada’. What you see here is but a glimpse of the project that was so humbly initiated that it has, as intended, gone unnoticed for months, which is indeed a rarity in Makarand. It was certainly challenging to put together a project without getting much attention in a community which is so closely-knit that the daily conversations of each household are known to the whole society. As I elaborate its details, the apparent secrecy of the project may become justifiable.
The plan was to create a terrace garden on the terrace on ‘auntie-cha wada’, a place which was largely unused and devoid of beauty. It was an idea which had sprung up sometime during my examinations (unfortunately, that is when the best of ideas seem to come to you). My interest was piqued by an article on city farming which I happened to have read not long ago. My friends and I got together and began to lay out an elaborate plan as to the establishment and functioning of our terrace garden. We had decided that we would follow the practice of Natueco City farming. The aforesaid practice is one which involves the creation of miniature farms in the open spaces of the city. What we intended to do was to plant productive varieties of plants on the terrace so a s to inculcate a love for farming in the hearts of young Makarandites. The idea was certainly an interesting one. I got to work instantly. After this began the mammoth task of gathering information and putting it together in order to gauge the feasibility of the project. The initial plan was to make soil beds for the plants using bricks and cement. In these, we would grow our plants on a multi-layered bed of soil consisting of various substances such as sugarcane bagasse, compost and nutrient-rich soil. Water could be stored in the tank that already existed on the terrace. All said and done, the project seemed like a feasible one, one that would not take much efforts to put into practice. Of course, such things are much easier said than done. The lack of practicality of the project soon became obvious to us. We realized that our plans were too ambitious and that we would have to start with something simpler. Though this was something of a setback, the project had to go on. The new plans were prepared and I started with the implementation of the project.
The first thing that needed to be done was the acquisition of the requisite resources. The new plan involved the growing of the plants in pots and containers, which would eliminate the risk of damaging the frail structure through seepage of water. For the same reason water would be stored in drums instead of in the tank. The pots were acquired after much scavenging through the society. The plastic drums were obtained from some family friends who were supportive of my ambitious contrivances, while saplings were bought after many a trip to the nursery. Following this, we spent a grueling afternoon planting the saplings and finally laid the foundation of our terrace garden . The next issue we needed to tackle was the management of the garden. It was then decided that we would handle the garden all by ourselves, watering the plants daily and tending to them on weekends. It was necessary that some amount of secrecy be maintained for the time being, since we did not want an influx of people visiting the garden in its early stages, for they could accidentally damage the plants. After tackling all these hurdles, the garden was finally functional.
In the following months, we tended to the garden, and watched the plants yield their first produce. Sometimes, we panicked at the sight of the slightest amount of wilting. At other times, we let the plants metamorphose in peace. We realized that we would need some external help if the garden was to diversify and prosper. We decided to make use of the enthusiasm that is abundant in the heart of every resident of Makarand and began to spread the word. The response we received from eager Makarandites was truly gratifying. New plants came in and the garden began to grow. We met the need for protection of our yield by installing wire mesh around the fruit-bearing plants. We received a large drum form the ‘kachra waalis’, who were also so kind as to let use as much of the compost as we needed for our garden.
The garden on the terrace of the office building now boasts of a wide variety of flourishing plants. Many of these are unconventional varieties, and they have been planted in the spirit of city farming, which encourages experimentation. The plants on the terrace include holy basil (tulsi), marigold (shevanti), lemon grass, aloe vera, curry leaves (kadhi patta) lady’s finger (bhendi), cluster beans (gawar), banana and papaya. We hope this project will receive wholehearted support from everyone in Makarand. We also hope to achieve the objective of replicating this on the terraces of all the buildings in Makarand in the near future, so that we may be able to execute all the elaborate plans that we had initially made. Thus, we wish to bring to Makarand a concept that has proven itself to be successful in various buildings throughout the city and also on our very own ‘auntie cha wada’.
Nissim Gore-Datar
7-8 Manjiri.
SMART Finances – FMP or FD – How to help your customers choose?
Over past 6-9 months with inflation raging in the range of 6-8 % and rate of 6-7% being offered by banks on 1 year Fixed Deposit (FD), the real rate of return on FDs had turn negative. With this the common question on every individual investors mind is – why should I invest my savings in Bank FDs when Fixed Maturity Plans (FMP) are offering better post tax returns ?
What is a Fixed Maturity Plan (FMP) ?
FMPs are debt investment products offered by Mutual Funds where the funds invest in a combination of Certificates of Deposits of Banks or Commercial Papers of large corporates with a residual tenor which matches the tenure for which the FMP is offered. The FMP typically announces return in the form of dividend
What is a Fixed Deposit (FD)?
Fixed deposits are tenure based term deposit products offered by Banks with an assured return. The rates of return offered are fixed and based on tenure for which the deposit is kept. The depositor has the flexibility to choose the any tenure, including broken period, usually between 7 days to 5 years based on his requirement.
The principal amount upto Rs 1 lac is guaranteed under the Deposit Insurance and Credit Guarantee Corporate scheme.
In case of any contingency, a depositor can request for premature redemption of the deposit. In which case, the Bank can pay interest 1 % lower than might be applicable for the tenure for which the deposit has run.
Alternately, a depositor can request for a Overdraft upto 80% of the deposit at some spread over the FD rate applicable.
Opportunity – Arbitrage the tax Differential
In case of FMPs, the fund has to pay tax @ 22% on dividend announced, it is tax free in the hands of the investors. As for Fixed Deposits, the interest is taxed in the hands of the individual investor at the marginal rate. This could be 33% for individuals falling in the highest tax slab (Income > Rs 5 lac pa). This offers a window for tax arbitrage where by FMPs can offer better post tax yield even though the pre-tax rates offered by both may be similar.
Post Tax Returns – FMPs offer better yield
Presently, with liquidty getting tight, the FMP returns are @ 8.5- 9% pa which translate into a post tax yield of 7-7.5% against FDs yielding 5.5%- 6% pa post tax. With this though the answer may seem pretty obvious, to arrive at a SMART choice, the customer needs to introspect and answer some simple yet SMART questions:-
What is your tax bracket ?
What is the tenure for which you can keep aside this money invested?
What is your fall back plan in case of some contingency money ?
Flexibility, Assured return - FDs score over FMPs
While the tax arbitrage makes FMPs score over FDs as an efficient instrument for investors falling in the highest bracket, the typical tenures offered by FMPs are 3 or 9 or 13 months put them at a disadvantage against FDs on the following fronts:-
flexibility of tenure - FDs can be made for any broken period as well as for longer tenures upto 5- 8 years. This allows investors to leverage the current higher rates and lock-in for a longer tenure.
liquidity - since one can pre-maturely liquidate the FD or even request for an instant Overdraft against the FD at a marginal spread
assured returns - as per prevailing regulation FMPs are mandated to warn investors about returns to investors beings subjected to market risks. One can only guess an indicative return, based on the prevailing market conditions. While in case of FDs offer assured returns which are announced upfront.
Considering these points, it is suggested that investors in lower tax bracket OR those looking for safer avenues as well as flexibility in tenure will find FDs as the instrument of first choice.
Salil Datar
7-8 Manjiri
God Redefined
To me God is hope
To me God is peace
To me God is compassion
To me God is forgiveness
To me God is equality
To me God is embracing nature
To me God is love
To me God is sharing
To me God is honesty
To me God is taking responsibility
To me God is respect
To me God is freedom
Natasha Halarnkar
Words of a Grandson
Descriptions of family by me are sublime
I seldom resort to superlatives
But now, as I feared, has come the time,
To describe in extremes my relatives
Foremost in this list is my grandfather, Aba
Who is, I should say, the best by far
You might not be disposed to agree
For any grandson such his grandfather would see
He skillfully wields the power of shares
He’s seen them all, the bulls and the bears
He knows every nook and corner of Dalal Street
For financial advice, he’s the person to meet.
He’s developed an appetite for metropolitan reform
With his workaholic passion, he stirs up quite a storm
He wants to revolutionize the system, which by far is at fault
For those traffic snarls we face, wasting hours on the asphalt
He was once my grandfather, in whom I did confide
But a lot has changed with time and tide
He was once my grandfather, now my friend, my guide
My Philosophical guru, in whom my secrets reside
If with someone I have spent many a moment of glee
That someone is certainly no one but he
This is somewhat in part due to many a spree
For he would rather go bankrupt than see sadness in me!
Nissim Gore-Datar (20th November 2010)
7-8 Manjiri
My Frenchie Frenchie Ways
Let the title not mislead you. This is not to promote any French apparel. Know what I mean. My daughter lives in a town called Bruz in the French province of Brittany about 500 kms South –west of Paris. Over the past decade I visited her several times. This is a short take off on my observations about some interesting facets of the French Lifestyle and my attempt to get adjusted to it in my own style.
I realised on my first visit that very few people in Brittany understand or speak English. So I decided to learn French with the help of a tutor, Linguaphone, Instant French for tourist book and such gadgets. I tried hard. Full of confidence on my next visit I asked the sales person in a shop about something, in French. His face remained blank. I gave up. But then I found out that with just two words ‘Merci Beaucoup’ (Thank you very much) and ‘Pardon’ (Sorry) which are used profusely and the sentence ‘Sorry, I do not speak French, I am a tourist’, in French and with the use of relevant gestures, I was able to communicate reasonably well.
The favourite pastime of the French is sitting in a roadside café. One can sit there for as long as one wishes just over a cup of coffee or a glass of beer, and no one would disturb you. Renne is the capital of Brittany and whenever we visited Renne I did just that. Being summer holidays the high street was full of people, mostly youngsters. It was like watching a fashion parade cum beauty pageant. There were hippies, men and women dressed in latest casuals or designer wear. The women were very pretty and the men debonair. The world is beautiful and that was personified here. The entire ambience was so vibrant it made me feel younger by at least twenty years. Believe me. When I mentioned to my daughter how chic and stylish I find people in Renne, she laughed and said that the Parisians call them villagers. This is about regional rivalry.
Wine making is a science and drinking an art and the French have mastered both. I had invited my in-laws for dinner at a restaurant. The wine waiters have a sixth sense and guess correctly who the host is. He approached me with the wine list. He brought the bottle I had ordered. My observations had taught me what ritual I had to perform. First I saw the label (all foreign to me) and felt the temperature. Approved! He opened the bottle and poured a small portion in my glass. I lifted the glass and held it against the light. Don’t know what I was supposed to see. Then I took a sip, twirled it around in the mouth showing full concentration on the taste and putting on a stern look. For all I care it could have been a cheap table wine or a vintage one. After this ceremony I just gave a nod of approval. I hope I managed to convince the waiter that I was a connoisseur of wines. If I had not approved, he would have brought another one. I was almost tempted to do so a few more times.
French have the age old tradition that when they meet, they greet each other by planting a kiss on both the cheeks. This is considered as a token of close bondage and affection. We were invited for lunch at a restaurant some distance away from home and supposed to be there by 12.30. Since people here are very punctual my wife suggested that we leave at 12.15 to reach in time. My daughter said “Oh, no, we are going to meet quite a few guests there so we better reach at 12.” My wife exclaimed “What? You mean to say we are going to kiss for half an hour!” My daughter laughed and said “We have to go through this ritual but you being foreigners you can just shake hands and that is ok.” I took her advice but just about. I shook hands with the gentlemen and kissed the ladies. Don’t know what my wife did.
Guru Rege
20, Joothica.
MY LITTLE PET DOG
I have a handsome dog
He is like a small landlord
He love to eat grapes
And plays with the drapes
He howls loud like an owl
And runs away with the bowl
He takes my colorful socks
And hides them in the box
He takes a bouncy ball
And plays baseball
But he knows I am his Lord
By Mihika Barve
7 years
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ON TIME
“Ticking away the moments, that make up a dull day.
You fritter and waste away the hours, in an offhand way.
Kicking on a piece of ground, in your home town;
Waiting for someone or something, to show you the way.
Tired of lying in the sunshine, staying home to watch the rain,
You are young and life is long – and there is time to kill today.
And then one day you find, 10 years have gone behind;
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.
So now you run and run to catch up with the sun –
But its SINKING and racing around to come up right behind you.
The sun is the same in a relative way.
but you are old;
Shorter of breath and a day close to death.
The days are getting shorter, never seem to find the time;
Plans that either come to naught or half page on-
Scribbled lines hanging on still.
The time is gone, the song is over.
Thought I’d something more to say. ’’
Where is there time to read these lines,
Or many more that have been said and frayed.
But the mind comes back to gaze again
to all these words and promises made.
So hear the gun and chase the sun,
They may say “its never too late!”
But its well done to finish the page,
And scrape your way through the shutting gate.
NEHA PARULEKAR
(inspired from TIME- pink Floyd)
========================================================
Twenty Rupees
I called him uncle Kunte because my parents called him uncle Kunte. He was in his sixties and I was nine or ten. He lived with his elder brother, nephew and the nephew’s wife. Our buildings faced each other. We lived on the second floor and the Kuntes lived on the third. So they could see more of the happenings in our flat. If any of the Kuntes had shouted, we would have heard it. Only a courtyard separated the two buildings. But nobody in the house of Kuntes ever shouted.
As part of my home education, I learnt from my parents whatever there was to learn about the neighbours. Uncle Kunte had never married. There was nothing wrong with him. He was a Brahmin, fair-skinned, blue-eyed and with a good surname. Although not bright, he had completed secondary education. Uncle Kunte was the seventh and the youngest child of his parents. As was customary in those days, the younger would not marry before the elders. The daughters married and left the flat. The sons shared a single flat with parents and wives. When his last brother married, uncle Kunte realised there was literally no place left in the flat to bring another person. Many years later, when his elder brother decided to move with the surviving family to the flat across the courtyard, uncle Kunte was close to retirement. My parents didn’t know where he had worked or what his job had been.
I think I was familiar with the image of uncle Kunte since I became conscious of life around me. He was like a portrait. Still and never changing. He was thin. His bones were more prominent than his flesh. He wore a white cotton shirt, a white loincloth and a pale brownish topee. This was the only dress he was ever seen in. My parents confirm it. If he wanted to shock us, he could have worn trousers or a coloured shirt. He avoided eye contact even as I stared at him from my balcony. He stood at the kitchen window in a peculiar way. He leaned his shoulder against the window, and stood for hours with his head immobile and a blank gaze. I don’t remember if I had seen him smile. Or talk. I had no idea how his voice sounded. Until one afternoon when I was back from school.
***
The bell rang. I opened the door. And there he was. Uncle Kunte, standing in his uniform. I thought he felt awkward at my presence.
‘‘Is…. father at home?’’ His voice was hoarse and low.
I nodded and invited him in. My parents hid their surprise behind smiles as they greeted the first-time guest. Uncle Kunte, sitting at the extreme corner of the sofa, looked uncomfortable. My mother left for the kitchen to prepare tea.
‘‘How is everyone at home?’’ Rather than allowing silence to dominate the room, my father asked a question the answer to which should have been obvious. We could see from our balcony the well being of the Kuntes on a daily basis.
‘‘Everyone is fine, thank you.’’
‘‘You will have tea, won’t you?’’ My father asked, but before uncle Kunte could reply, my mother shouted from the kitchen. ‘‘Yes. Tea is on its way.’’
Uncle Kunte drank slowly. The cup of tea offered him a good excuse for his silence. My parents asked if he knew Mrs Dandekar on the first floor had a grandson born yesterday. Uncle Kunte shook his head.
‘‘The reason I came today was…’’ He spoke with effort and then glanced at me.
My mother looked at me. ‘‘Aren’t you going to play cricket today?’’
‘‘No.’’ I said in my straightforward way. ‘‘You told me a few minutes ago to study and not to play cricket today.’’
‘‘You are not studying anyway. It’s okay if you play cricket.’’
Before I could protest, I saw my father with his left eyebrow raised and eyes pointing to the door. These were codes so subtle I am certain uncle Kunte did not notice them.
‘‘When should I come back?’’ I stood like an obedient son, but threw a poisonous glance at uncle Kunte.
‘‘There is no reason to hurry.’’ I heard my father say as I banged the door with energy.
That was one of the rare days when I did not enjoy cricket. My mind was on the unfinished conversation at home. I would have gladly swapped my cricket bat to find out why uncle Kunte was at our house. When I saw my father beckoning me over from the balcony, I left the game and rushed home.
‘‘I have been playing for more than an hour now.’’
‘‘Normally we have to beg you to come back.’’
‘‘Why did you ask me to leave the house?’’
‘‘You know why.’’
‘‘Yes, but I want to know why uncle Kunte wanted to talk to you secretly.’’
‘‘It’s nothing to do with you. Your homework is pending, remember?’’
I knew well the methods to negotiate with my parents. We agreed they would make me part of the secret, once I finished my homework. Pleased with the speed at which I finished it, my mother said,
‘‘If you think there is something exciting, you are going to be disappointed. Uncle Kunte wanted to borrow money.’’
‘‘But that’s unusual, isn’t it? Why can’t he borrow from his brother?’’ I asked.
‘‘He answered that question himself. His elder brother gives him a monthly allowance in the first week.’’ My father said. ‘‘This month he ran out, and wanted to borrow until he received the next instalment.’’
‘‘How much did he borrow?’’
‘‘Twenty rupees.’’
I must admit I was disappointed. This was certainly not a secret worth sacrificing a cricket bat for. We discussed at length why uncle Kunte could not take from his brother money in excess of his allowance. My mother said he was too proud to do that. Where was his pride when borrowing from us, I asked.
It is possible the relationships are not easy in the Kunte family, my father said in an effort to satisfy my curiosity.
My mother warned me not to tell anyone about this episode. Uncle Kunte had sworn them to secrecy. She was uneasy about confiding it to me. I assured her I would not discuss it outside our house.
‘‘I think we are not going to see the twenty rupees again.’’ My father predicted. ‘‘Of course, it’s a small amount. I won’t mind losing it. I wonder why he didn’t ask for hundred. Or at least fifty.’’
***
My father’s prediction was wrong. On the fifth of the following month, the bell rang again and there he was… uncle Kunte. To retain my dignity, I left to play cricket immediately. Honestly, I was not too interested in uncle Kunte any more. When I returned, I asked my mother if he paid back the money. Or did he come to say he couldn’t?
‘‘He gave back the twenty rupees. He thanked us. He said we had saved him in his time of trouble. He is an honest man.’’ The conclusion was directed at my father who did not say anything.
Three weeks later, back from school I saw my mother’s puzzled face.
‘‘You know what, uncle Kunte was here again.’’
‘‘Again? What for?’’
‘‘To borrow money.’’
‘‘How much this time?’’
‘‘Believe it or not, twenty rupees.’’
This time we discussed what were the things that could be bought for twenty rupees. Why was uncle Kunte short of money? What was that extra purchase that had thrown him into this monthly loop? My father wondered if he had bought new footwear, and promised to mark it on the next visit.
When Uncle Kunte returned the twenty rupees, my father noted he wore the same old slippers. His shirt did not look new either.
‘‘Mrs Dandekar feels there is a reason why he stands at the window the way he does.’’ My mother whispered.
‘‘Did you discuss with her the twenty rupees?’’ I asked suspiciously.
‘‘Of course not. She was saying the angle at which he stands at the window, he can watch the door of the temple below.’’
‘‘Is he very religious then?’’ My father was puzzled.
My mother blushed whenever she discussed adult topics in my presence. I saw her cheeks turning red.
‘‘She thinks he ogles the women entering the temple.’’
‘‘That’s not a bad theory.’’ Said my father. ‘‘However, for twenty rupees, which woman is uncle Kunte going to attract?’’
We laughed. I laughed wholeheartedly.
***
The next time when uncle Kunte came to borrow twenty rupees I did not leave the house. Surprisingly, he did not mind my presence. True, he spoke with my parents as if I did not exist in the room. He repeatedly apologised. He hoped this was the last time he was taking money. He talked about how difficult it was to manage the monthly budgets. His brother would possibly increase his allowance, but he hated begging. Even to his brother. He promised to pay back the twenty rupees at the first opportunity.
It didn’t look like uncle Kunte had developed any vices. My mother said he smelled neither of alcohol nor cigarettes. My father offered a new theory about him gambling, and we rejected it as far-fetched. After all, both the times uncle Kunte had returned the money he had borrowed.
The cycle continued. On one occasion, uncle Kunte appeared when my father was playing the sitar. My father was about to stop, and go to the cupboard to fetch the twenty rupees. Uncle Kunte said he was not in a hurry. He listened for the next hour or so. My father said later he was not certain uncle Kunte understood anything in music. If he tolerated listening to it for the sake of money, I feel uneasy; said my father.
When I was twelve, I began writing the ‘uncle Kunte dates’ in my journal. The borrowing dates and the returning dates. I wished to establish a pattern. I couldn’t find any. The initial logic of borrowing at the end of the month and giving it back at the beginning of the following did not work any more. The dates were random. But the amount did not change. My father anxiously waited for uncle Kunte to raise the issue of inflation. By this time, thirty rupees would have been more appropriate.
One visit which I remember vividly was when uncle Kunte took his topee off. To scratch his head. The head was almost bald. The hairs that remained were white. Before I could think of him as an old man, the topee was on again. He was the unchanging man in the portrait. That evening my father said we would lose the twenty rupees only when he dies.
***
I had already graduated and was in Ahmedabad working as an auditor. Every Sunday morning I called my mother on phone. She gave me the news of the death of uncle Kunte. He had died of a heart attack.
‘‘So finally we lost the twenty rupees.’’ I said.
‘‘No, we didn’t. He paid it back only two days before his death. Now isn’t that extraordinary?’’
‘‘How many years did this lending business continue?’’ It had started when I was in school. I quickly calculated. ‘‘Twelve years. Can you believe it? And we have no idea what he did with the twenty rupees.’’
‘‘And now we shall never learn. The secret is gone with him.’’
I sensed a tinge of sadness in her voice. Holding the receiver at the other end I wondered what my mother was exactly sad about.
***
It has been many, many years since uncle Kunte took away his secret with him. My father was upset at his death. He was wrong in all his predictions. Uncle Kunte did not stop borrowing, but always paid back what he took. He never raised the borrowing amount. We could not find any vice he was associated with. He returned the twenty rupees for the final time two days before his death. Uncle Kunte and the twenty rupees was one mystery in our lives that would be unsolved forever.
Last month, Uncle Kunte’s elder brother died. He must have been close to ninety. A week later, his son came to our house. He had an envelope in his hand.
‘‘I was going through the papers. I found this envelope addressed to you.’’
My father was astonished. ‘‘Your father had written a letter to us?’’
‘‘No, not him. Judging by the handwriting, it must be uncle.’’
‘‘But he died long ago.’’
‘‘Yes, we never bothered to check any papers after his death. He didn’t have a bank account. He didn’t receive any letters, never wrote anything. In fact, I think this is the only note he has written.’’
‘‘What does it say?’’
‘‘I don’t know. It’s addressed to you. I didn’t open it.’’
As soon as the nephew Kunte left, my father tore the envelope open. My mother and I jumped to his side. It was a short note written in coarse handwriting.
‘‘I am writing what I don’t have the courage to say. To an old man like me, the only thing needed in life is people to talk to. You have given me that opportunity. Whenever I feel hunger for human company, I have taken the liberty to visit you. Not my own relatives, but you are a family for me. I want to thank you for that. I don’t think I can ever say this to you. I hope one day I will push this note silently under your door. – Uncle Kunte.’’
***
© Ravi Abhyankar, 2011
=========================================================
The day I saved my school
It all started when I reached school. It was wierd, all the people were trying to break down our school by using hammers, throwing big, huge stones and all the things they could do to break down the building. The most unbelievable part was that even the street dogs were helping out by carrying those heavy stones. Poor dogs! Then I saw my best friend who was also trying to break down our school. I went to ask her what was going on but she just ignored me. How dare she do that! She never does that to me, well, except for the time when we fought .But that’s another story.
Anyway I didn’t know what was going on. I went to ask some other students but they too ignored me. Then I saw all the teachers under a tree. When I went up to them they looked relieved to see me. Sadly they told me what had happened.
As usual I was late for school but today I was happy that I was late. Sometimes it’s good to be late. My teachers told me that three girls came and cast a spell on all the students and went away. So now all my friends and all the students were under the spell. Even the dogs! Since I was the only one who was spared, the teachers told me to do something.
I thought about the reason why this had happened and I realised that it was because our school is really popular which must have made somebody jealous and so they must have done this. I walked around the school and found some clues. There were footprints of the three girls everywhere. I followed the footprints but suddenly they disappeared. That’s when I realised that these girls knew how to fly. I went further and I saw a door open. I had never seen that door before. I went in and there I saw those three girls! By mistake I tripped and fell on a pot beside me which broke. Because of the loud noise they saw me. Immediately they started to cast a spell on me. I was scared out of my guts. Suddenly a beautiful fairy with wings appeared and chanted a spell and those three wicked girls disappeared. She turned to me and told me that I do not have to worry and that my friends would be healed soon. She held my hand and took me flying to the place where all the other students were. She chanted a spell again and all the children were healed. I was very, very happy. All the teachers thanked me. I turned around to thank the good fairy with wings but she was gone. When I told my friends the whole story they did not believe it but never mind!
Siya Mokashi
10 years.
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My favorite animal
My favorite animal is the dog because they can sniff out thieves and dogs are too cuddly and playful and smart. You can make them jump through hulahoop rings and make them fetch sticks and bones. And you feed and name them. You can make key chains with their names on it and you can take photos with you and them. You can sketch them out and take them around and have dog races. And then see them on stage winning prizes and take them around for walks. And you can cuddle them. Furry furry. I like girl dogs and boy dogs very much.
Devyani Abhyankar
7 years
THE TREASURE PAPER PLANE ATTACKS!
It all started when I was on my way to school!! I was walking down the road to my school. It was early in the morning and I was still half asleep. Suddenly, a paper plane, thrown by some disgusting little fool, hit me in the eye!!
I cursed the guy who had injured me. He yelled, “Hey there, are you all right? Sorry for that!” “Gaarr!!” I cursed. I opened the plane and was about to crumple it up and throw it away when I noticed three faded letters on the paper – ‘Map’. I peered closely and read the words TREASURE MAP. I was astonished!!
I saw an ‘X’ and arrows headed towards it. It showed a way from the school to my house, then to a place I didn’t know. I decided to skip the school and search for the treasure. I took my best friend Niranjan who happened to be passing by, with me. We went to school and started our quest. We went by a rather haywire way to my house, which was not necessary as we could go by a shorter way, but there were points marked on the long way, which I thought must be clues. We collected pictures of many familiar objects along the way, which could be clues. We collected the following, pictures of a fish, a house, a king, a lion, and finally a rope. Now we went to the place unknown to us collecting different coins on the way –coins from British India, modern coins, foreign coins, etc. We, half-dead with exhaustion reached the place.
It was a dirty place. I saw mud everywhere. I looked at the map with a painful eye. It showed a straight path from this place to ‘X’, with a sort of gate in between. We sat down for some time and ate our school tiffins, and set out again.
We reached the gate. We had no idea how to pass. Then Niranjan peered closely and saw holes in the objects and different objects kept there. He figured out, “We have to put the objects in order on the gate. See, there are numbers printed on top of each hole. We have to; for instance, put fish on the hole numbered 1, as we found it first, the house on second, and so on. Then we had to put the coins into the holes. See put the Rs. 10-1997 coin on the hole labeled ‘INDIAN, Rs.10-1997’, and so on. Then we have to press that button and I believe the gates will open.” “Brilliant, Niranjan! You’re superb, man!” I exclaimed. We did what he said, and sure enough, the gates opened and we passed through. At last!!
We reached the ‘X’. A spade was kept. We dug the up the treasure chest. But we didn’t know where the key was!! I realized the spade itself was the key!! We opened the chest. Inside was a paper. It was another treasure map. Oh boy!!
We went home. We told others about our adventure. Soon our friends and relatives set out with food and water and went for the treasure adventure. Again a treasure map inside the chest!! And again and again and again…………
Anuj Diwan
11 years
Teenage Conflicts
Teenage! This is a very crucial stage of growth. It is relatively easy at this stage to fall prey to bad things than good ones. One tends to emulate things which are ‘considered cool’ but perhaps are not so. Nowadays one hears many cases of teenage conflicts such as teenage pregnancy, ragging, drinking, etc. We hear many cases of teenage suicides too. What could possibly be the reason for this? No one has a clear idea as to why a teenager goes through all these conflicting issues.
As we are getting more and more westernized, the minds of teenagers are getting exposed to negative influences. All teenagers want to act cool, without pausing to think if it is the right thing to do. Gambling and drinking are things to be done, if at all, only after the age of eighteen. But once again, such illegal things are happening. We are all aware how harmful smoking is for health. Teenagers on the other hand think it is fun to do it. Even if they do it just once, it can easily become an addiction. All it takes is one bad influence. As it is said, one black sheep in a group blackens all the sheep. One corrupt mind drinks or gambles and others follow because they think it is cool.
Ragging is another issue. Teenagers rag kids younger than them. Sometimes unknowingly they hurt them. Why so much violence? Teenagers are also the victims at times.
Teenage pregnancy is another big issue. While not much in India, in the USA, the number of teenagers getting pregnant each year exceeds 7000. Why do something which they have to regret all their life?
‘Suicides’ In India, one reads of a teenager committing suicide every alternate day. It might sound weird, but after I finish reading the newspaper, if there is nothing about suicides, I re-read it. It is very disturbing but at the same time true. Mostly it reads of students committing suicide dues to stress. I personally feel that such people are stupid. If they get stressed due to exams or other such school work, imagine what would happen to them when they have more responsibilities and stress later in life!
Teenagers are focused on many things other than what they should, due to which they tend to ignore studies and their mind is full of rubbish. Rudeness and attitude develops due to this. More than 80% of teenagers are very rude. They often tend to be abusive. A bad word is used by them almost every minute. They have a highly incorrect idea that abusing is ‘very cool’. In fact all that it proves is that the person has not come from a well-to-do family.
All these teenage conflicts are universally experienced by all teenagers….
Vedant Joshi
14 years
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My Society - why do I like it?
I, like it because it has many buildings and it is a very big society. It has a very big stage, where we celebrate each and every festivals, like independence day, republic day etc, and every festival every year. There is a very big hall in our society and a big ground, where we play and do cycling. I love my society very very very very very much.
Yashvi Jain
6 years.
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How I Got My Pet
It all started when I was on my way to school. As usual I went to the BEST stop to catch the bus to school. Soon I got one and I entered. There was a little crowd but I managed to get a seat.
I had got a seat beside a man. He had a funny beard. It looked like it would fall of any time. I had been reading many mystery books around that time and hence I thought there was something strange but it was only my imagination.
I started looking out of the window. Soon we reached my school and I got off. There are some trees near our school gate. I saw a puppy hidden between them. I went to see it. I liked it the moment I saw it. I fondled it and fed him some biscuits. Then, I went to my class. All the time I was thinking about that puppy. I imagined myself in his place. I certainly would like someone who loved me. I considered taking him home. But then I remembered my mother didn’t like dogs. She would never like a puppy in the house. So I took it out of my mind.
The next day I again saw the puppy in the same place I had seen him the previous day. That day some RED CROSS people had come to our school. They showed us a movie on kindness toward animals. At that time I made decision. I am going to adopt that puppy. On the way home, I took him with me. When I reached home I somehow convinced my mother and father. They too welcomed him.
And then the usual things followed. The puppy was named, vaccines, etc. Today he is no longer with us. But I still remember him and hence decided to write about how I got him.
Rahul Kanekar
12 years
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Teenage woes
Being a teenager, you are told that the ‘teenage phase’ , as it is called, is supposed to be a transformation of a child into an adult. It is a phase of many changes, both physical and psychological that helps us face the harsh realities of life and prepares us for adulthood. However there are many conflicting emotions faced by teenagers as well as their parents, not only in our country but all over the world.
Teenage is supposed to be a period of confusion. For most ‘teenage’ can be the most confusing period of their lives as many of the most difficult and important decisions are made by us in our teenage life, such as the choice of our college or choice of our subjects which are the basic decisions that shape the foundation for our future and entire career. But are we ready to make these decisions so early in life? Most of us land up following friends or making choices which are influenced by what our parents say because we are not sure of our own capabilities.
Teenage years are probably the most important years of our life not only in the aspect of education but also because it is the period during which we evolve as a person. Along with ‘teenage’ comes ‘maturity’ and ‘responsibility’ two words which are constantly thrown at us. But try to be so and we are immediately reminded that we should not be too big for our boots.
One of the most common issues we teenagers face are fights with our parents due to the generation gap. Often our opinions on various issues differ from those of our parents. This frequently leads to arguments.
Peer pressure is another major issue . Due to peer pressure many teenagers tend to change their way of thinking and personality to match that of others to keep up with the ‘social circle’ they are a part of . This can be extremely dangerous as, very often, the wrong company could tempt a person to take up alcohol and smoking and can even lead to involvement with drugs.
However teenage years are also supposed to be the most memorable years of our life. It is the time we make great friends, some of whom remain with us for the rest of our lives and with whom we make memories that we can cherish forever.
So according to me, in spite of all the conflicts, we must make the best of these years as we are never going to get them back.
Saachi Mokashi
15 years.
It is important to stop
Pierce. Pull out. Tighten. Again. The needle works its way through the thick fibers of the canvas. Steps from the process play in my mind, but I’ve stopped listening. The canvas is vast and white, empty – most beautiful. I’m separating the canvas threads from each other, carefully, patiently, thread by thread. The canvas is to be undone. Later, these threads are to be stitched into the canvas again. Not colored but as they are, the threads will emerge. For the canvas is my tool; the canvas is my art.
It was not the initial intention but the canvas is quickly filling itself up. A geometric pattern emerges with the threads. A staple gun, X-acto knife and sandpaper lie near by from when the canvas was stretched. Instinctively, I pick them up, one at a time, and allow them to make their marks on the canvas. Why do this? They make the canvas the way it is and the canvas is all I’m thinking about – vast and white, self-sustaining – beautiful. Don’t get carried away. At the back of my mind, I’m constantly conscious that there exists a point, after which the canvas becomes saturated, burdened and essentially lost. I tell myself that it is okay to stop, that there is a point where one needs to stop.
Let it be. That is most difficult to do – for an artist, for a citizen, for anyone. And learning to let things be is corollary to identifying the point beyond which any addition, however good-willed, will take away from the task at hand. Pierce. It doesn’t take much to apply this once you’re aware of its implications; I learnt this from two little under-privileged girls at the Aseema Foundation. Pull out. Thirteen years of age then, I was responsible for helping educate two under privileged girls who were just two years younger than me. Yasmine and Meghana had unusually small statures, and looked far younger than their age. At first, they were co-operative and seemed to be progressing academically. Tighten. It seemed to me that they considered me a friend, one of them. I let them sing while they worked on their math, doodle on the sides of their comprehension exercises and recite poems while chewing on bubblegum. I was far from the standard teacher.
But then, at some point, they found out how old I was. The implications of this knowledge to them were staggering. They stopped listening, stopped working and so stopped willing to learn. Time to stop. But I continued. I struggled, and so they struggled. Any kind of progress stopped, learning stopped, but I continued. Under the impression that pure intention and earnest sentiments could conquer all, I disregarded the fact that any act of giving required an equal act of accepting and if there was no acceptance, the act of giving became, essentially, redundant. Looking back, this was when I should have let it be, stopped. There is a fine line between stopping a work of art because it feels futile to continue and giving up on a work of art because the excitement to continue has subsided.
It is an art to learn to stop at the right time. Learning to recognize this point is as important as learning the art of performing the task in the first place.
Since then, finding this point has become an obsession of mine. Not just in my art but also in everything I do. Every action has a point after which it needs to be stopped. There is a point where one should stop adding paints to a painting, a point where one should stop rehearsing a dance sequence and a point where one should stop editing an essay. There exists an organic beauty to the naturalness of things that I feel must be retained. Pierce. Pull out. Tighten. Slowly. My hands are operating by themselves; the needle has a life of its own. This is dangerous – it’s easy to go overboard.
That’s enough. Pierce. Pull out. Tighten. The canvas seems complete now. Don’t think twice.
Just stop.
Anika Havaldar
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