I’m done with blogging.

I’m gonna go look at leaves rustling about.

Ravi’s Drum.

This happened to me.
Mom wrote this.
And it helped me.

-Satya Sarada Kandula : All Rights Reserved.

The Maths Teacher was making preparations for his Quest. The headmaster had agreed to let him take as much leave as he needed, but he asked him to stay on till the term ended.

Ravi begged his mom to go too, everyday. To give him something else to think about she bought him a nice new drum set for his birthday. Ravi was very excited. He kept on playing with it. He kept it very close to his bed when he went to sleep and slept with a happy smile on his face.

Ravi wanted to take his drum set to school to show his friends. His mom was not for it. She said it might get spoilt or lost and it was not a good idea to take drums to school in the first place. Ravi was adamant. He said that he wanted to be selected for the school band and he would be sure to be picked if he took his new drum along.

Ravi found the Arts teacher at school. The arts teacher was in charge of the school band too. ‘Sir, can I bring my drum to school and practice it with my friends? I want to be selected for the school band’, he asked. “Sure kid,” the teacher said, “nothing to it.”

Ravi brought his drum to school the very next day. Siri was charmed by the drum. She wanted to play it. She said, “please give me the drum sticks, please”. Ravi was pleased that his drum was much admired. He looked at her pleading face and relented. He was just about to give her the sticks when the P.T. teacher swung by on them.

“What is this? Why are you hitting Siri with the drum sticks? Who allowed you to bring the drum to school in the first place? You bad and naughty boy! If I let you get away with this, tomorrow you will hit even your mother!” he snatched the drum and the sticks straight out of Ravi’s hands and dashed off to the staff room with Ravi and Siri in tow.

Ravi was shocked, upset and puzzled. But above all he was very concerned about his precious new drum. “Sir, please give me back my new drum. I was not trying to hit Siri. She wanted to play and I was letting her take the sticks., you can ask her if you want to”.

The P.T. teacher turned on Siri. “Oh! so you are also a bad girl, playing drums in the playground are you? I will tell the headmaster!” Siri was scared. She was terrified of a beating or even of a scolding. “Sir, it is all Ravi’s fault. I never asked him for the drum sticks. Please don’t beat me. Please don’t tell my mother”.

Ravi was shocked beyond words. He had thought that Siri was his friend. Veer came running there. “Sir, Ravi did nothing wrong…” The P.T. teacher yelled at them. “So you also want to see the headmaster, do you? Get out of here!” Veer left and waited outside the staff room for his friend Ravi to come out. Poor Ravi, he never teased children and little animals like the others did. Why was he so unlucky that he got caught for something he did not do? And how cowardly Siri was! To save herself she was letting her friend take the worst of it. It was important for Thatha and Ravi’s Amma to know what was going on. Thatha knew how good Ravi was and the headmaster respected Thatha. Veer sent Siddhu to tell them while he waited outside.

Amma talked to Thatha about it. “Thatha, will you talk to the headmaster?” she asked. Thatha said, “Don’t worry Amma. Everything is for the best. Ravi will learn to obey you better in future and will not be so obstinate in having is own way. The head master is a good and wise man. You can talk to him. He knows Ravi too and he knows that Ravi brings me food everyday. I trust him to do the right thing. Ravi will also learn that the world includes all kinds of people and he will be more careful as he grows up.”

In the meantime, the P.T. teacher sent for the Arts teacher. He said, “Ravi says that you gave him permission to bring his drum to school. Did you?”. The Arts teacher sensed that something was blowing out of proportion and he decided to duck for cover. “Of course I did not give him permission,” he said. “What a liar you are!”, the P.T. teacher turned on poor dazzled Ravi. Then for about one hour, the P.T. teacher and Ravi’s class teacher scolded him without break, for breaking rules, bullying small girls and telling lies. All Ravi could say was “Can you please give me my new drum back?”

In the meantime, Amma went to meet the headmaster. “Sir, Ravi took his drum to school today to try out in the band. His friend Siddhu came and told me that Ravi is being blamed for all kinds of things including hitting Siri. Sir, I will never let Ravi tryout for anything again. He will just come to school and come home. Siri is his friend. She comes home sometimes to play. I know her. They must have been playing together as usual.”

The headmaster reassured her, “I will talk to Siri and then I will talk to Ravi and I will find out what happened. Ravi should have taken my permission to practice drums in the school. But he always asks the friendly art teacher. If the art teacher denies giving him permission, then that means Ravi broke the rules, because everyone will trust the friendly art teacher. What Siri says is important. Why don’t you talk to her?”

Amma spoke to Siri. Siri said, “Aunty, Ravi and I were just playing, I will tell the headmaster that. Don’t worry.” Amma went back to Thatha. Thatha said, “Have Faith. Everything is for the best.”

Ravi came home in the evening, sad and shocked. Veer walked with him part of the way. “Amma, I am sorry, I took the drum to school and that I did not listen to you.” Amma gave him some milk to drink and then she spoke sternly to him. “You are lucky to have this bad experience so early in life. Now you know that many people cannot be trusted. I want you to stay away from bands, sports and all fun things in school. You can only go to classes and come straight after school”. Ravi said sadly, “Yes, mother. Do you think that they will expel me from school? Amma, Siri lied. The arts teacher lied, and I got scolded by a group of big teachers and they took away my new birthday drum. Oh mother! The liars are free and I am good and pure and I have been blamed. My new drom has been taken away. The teachers look upon me like I am a bad boy. What did I do wrong?”
Amma said, “The mistake was the P.T. teacher’s in that he acted on an assumption and impulse, without a thought for how he was affecting a young child’s heart and mind. He was so sure he knew., and what he knew was an error. The mistake was the Art Teacher’s in that he gave you permission to do something that was not in his power to do, and that he denied it what he did. The mistake is in our culture and society, where what people think is more important than the truth. But you made a mistake too. The mistake of innocence that is almost naivety. Every day, dear, you see that it is the innocent bystanders who get caught in riots, the poor people who die. Innocence and poverty are crimes. Toughen yourself, whatever happens we’ll face it bravely. It is only life after all.”

Then she smiled,”I will let you go on the Quest with the Maths teacher. And Appa will go and meet your class teacher”. Ravi smiled. Appa was the best. He went and told Appa all that happened. Appa smiled at him kindly, “Well, let this be a lesson to you in the ways of the world. Let me guess both Siri and the Arts teacher have let you down right? They will go down in history as the world’s cowards.” Ravi actually laughed.

Appa went to school to meet the class teacher. The class teacher re-assured him. “Oh, I am sure that the Arts teacher gave him permission and went back on it, because he is afraid the headmaster will take him to task. I found out from others that Ravi never hit or intended to hit Siri, but it is no longer in my hands sir, it is in the head-master’s hands.”

In the meantime, the Maths Teacher went to meet the head-master. “Sir, Ravi is a good boy. He deserves to have his drums back. He did no wrong. Didn’t Siri tell you the truth?” The headmaster spoke, “The girl Siri backs the P.T. teacher and not Ravi. She does not want to get into trouble with teachers, perhaps. I will meet Ravi next week.”

The Maths Teacher asked. “What about his drums sir? What about justice for Ravi? Why is Siri’s word more weighty than Veer’s? Why is the P.T. teacher’s word worth more than mine and Thatha’s?”

Amma went to the temple next day and prayed for Ravi. And she thought of all the ancient stories. When bad things happen to normal people, they learn a lesson. But when bad things happen to very pure people, the world learns a lesson and the world order changes. Because Gandhiji was thrown out of the train, a country became free. “My son is pure,” she thought. “The world must change, to atone for the pain caused to Ravi. Oh Janardhana, we have no refuge but you, please protect Ravi”.

Thatha came to the temple to reassure Amma. “Amma, have faith, Ravi will get his drums back. Everything will be allright. There is a time for everything. Remember, I have the magic grain. Come, I want you to sing today as everyday. It is only life after all!”

The arts teacher went to see Amma. “Please tell Ravi, not to say that I gave him permission, they will never let me take care of the school band any more..”, he said. Amma was disappointed. He does not care about Ravi, she thought.

The headmaster called Ravi. “Hi Ravi, how are you feeling today?”, he asked. Ravi said, “I miss my drum sir, very much. Everyone is calling me and giving me advice. I am not in the school band anymore. My teachers think I am a bad boy. I am a good boy sir. I asked the arts teacher whether I could bring my drum, it was Siri who fussed for the drum sticks, now both of them are fine and I am the one who got the punishment”.

The headmaster spoke kindly to him. “Ravi, does Veer have the right to lend your drums to Siddhu?” Ravi said, “No sir, how can that be? The drums are mine!”. “In the same way, the arts teacher cannot give you permission to bring your drums to school. Only the headmaster can. It is harder to get permission from the headmaster, but he is the one to ask, is that clear?” he asked Ravi. “Yes, sir, Mr. headmaster., I know that now.” said Ravi. “I will give you your drums back, but you must not bring them to school again, the noise may disturb others. I have approved the purchase of a drumset for the college. So the school band will use that. If Amma lets you, you can try out for the school band still, but she is the one who can decide that” he said. Ravi nodded.

“Now about Siri. I know you and Amma and Thatha. I don’t think you were trying to hit her. I think the P.T. teacher scared her into complaining. That is the problem with small girls. She is too small to understand. I don’t want you you to play with her anymore. Please play with good boys of your age.” he said. Ravi understood.

“Finally about the P.T. teacher. It was wrong of him to scold you without finding out the truth. That is why in our country, we have the police to catch suspects and the judges to decide whether the suspects are actually criminals or really good people. In that way, even if the teachers complain that someone is a naughty boy, I am the one to judge the truth and decide”, he said. Ravi said excitedly,”The story teacher was telling us about Maryada Ramanna and King Solomon. So you are like Maryada Ramanna and I am like the man who was wrongly caught”. The headmaster could not help smiling ..”Yes, young man. Now while the judges will find out the truth and free the good people, don’t you think that it is better for good boys not to be caught at all?” Ravi agreed,”I have had a really awful time, sir!”

“OK, now for you not to be caught, you have to do something too. Look at what others are doing. And if you want to do something that your friends are not doing, then, you need permission and advice. In a school that would be from me. In the society that would be from the government. That is why you need permits. You need to find out what the rules are. Not knowing the rules, is not an excuse!”.. explained the headmaster.

“But, sir, sometimes the govt. can be wrong too. They put Gandhiji in jail because he wanted freedom for India, then what must I do?” Ravi asked.

The headmaster thought and spoke carefully. “We make rules to make sure that everybody has a fair free and good life. But even grown up human beings are just boys like you and Veer. They keep improving the rules with time. As the rules get better, the society gets better. Sometimes individuals, make the society better. Do you know about Raja Ram Mohan Roy?”. “Yes, yes!” said Ravi, “He was a social reformer, he helped Indian women. He changed the rules!”

“Yes, my dear child! Freeing a country and reforming a society are things that very, very great, good and wise and strong people do. They are the ones who change rules, and show us that life can be different and better. The society and govt. learn from them…I would be very happy if you become a great and good man like Gandhiji or Raja Ram Mohan Roy… but first, you must learn the rules and follow them”. The headmaster gave Ravi his drum set. Ravi gave him a smile.

When Ravi came out of the headmaster’s room, Veer, Siddhu, Amma, Appa and the Maths teacher were waiting for him. Oh yes, and Thatha was there too, with the magic grain in his hand. It was story time and music time and time for love and joy. “O Janardhana! O Satya Sankalpa!”, Amma said, “Thank you, thank you!” Ravi gave her a hug and Appa ruffled his hair. There were sweets all around!

Do branches taste the wind?

I’ve asked a few.

But.

They didn’ tell me.

Do you know?

Anya and Wi

The Novel I’ve begun. Page 1.

Zooming in might be an option. (?)

http://insipidbanana.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/anya.jpg

He wants to write a book.

He stared at the wall for the longest time ever.

He knows many secrets now.

He is also bored.

He decided to write a book.

“Pass me the Giblet Jam,” said she.

TRANSCEND ™

Written by, Me (In italics), Challu(peace out, build up, epilogue), VIgi (guest), Gagan (guest’ guest), GPad(guest’sguest’s guest). We Won the 1st prize in journalism for this. ! Yo!

PEACE OUT:
“Sorry, sorry”, was his claim. “I have band practice, I’m running late, my performance is at 11:00, we don’t have a guitarist, I can’t come. I’m sorry.”
So here we are, one very horrible attempt on writing a report all by myself because one genius, doped jackass whom we call SB could not turn up.

BUILD UP:
One month of work as a volunteer, running around, carrying tables and dropping them, doing sound checks, playing with the lights, meeting juniors or rather ragging them, in a friendly manner of course – please I don’t want to go to jail for just getting to a few people. Then there was lots of tension, rejection, dejection, emotion and oops here I missed a punctuation; Sorry I know that was a bad PJ(poor joke). Anyways bunking classes, hiding from teachers, staying in college till 10 in the night nearly everyday, it was all good. This was the least I could say for a fest SO BIG called “UDBHAV- 09 Intra College Cultural festival”.

EPILOGUE:
One hour passed, I’m whiling away my time and then suddenly out of nowhere actually from the entrance there appears a creature with shabby hair, torn shoes and beads around his belly like neck. He came close to me sat next to me and now is telling me what to write. Say hello to..…….(a long pause) “SB”.

SB SAYS:
Dude! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be late! Gimmie COMP! GIMMIEeeeeee!!!!

BACK IN BUSINESS:
One act play. I’ve heard from several imaginary sources that many profound acts of insanity plagued the stage, flooded by lights arranged by a peculiar “Ashwin.” Apparently there were conceited boos that found solace every time the stage lights were punctually turned off and on.
One play, which caught the morbid interest of all the dipshits occupying the audience-chairs, was one called MAYA. (OOOOooooo! *eyes widen with awe*) The lights went off, the narrator in a deep sonorous voice began gurgling forth the part-to-be-read-out-without-actors-present, in a most menacingly intense manner. The crowd boo’d him off stage. Twice. “Vigi” (Who?) ran on stage and with straining attempts to save the play, launched his box in a most angry gesture, pulled up his pant, and wiped off his sweat and yelled “……….. hello!?” His psycho wife (not an actor), came on stage and cuddled up forcefully against a scary, hair-less, freaky baby doll. Vigi then skipped, most gradually, more than a page of his script, after which is regained respect in the eyes of all the common-passersby, by yelling “ I don’t want babies,….. in my pants!” and yanking the baby out of his “wife’s” belly and throwing it onto the closest judge. He smiled. His wife, nearing the end, forgetting to act, went full psycho, let her husband die and called him “dada?” after eating a sinister concoction of a cake. WHOA!
A “Jomy” armed his version of a public performance with a real life, true-blue (GASP!!!!) CAT-FIGHT!(on a red background!). I’ve heard that several shreds of clothes flew around the auditorium as the girls, immersed in their roles,showed no mercy to the moral sensibilities of humanity. The audience hoot-hooted repeatedly and quietened down into a disappointed silence as the girls regained their composure. AND! “Dhundu(H is not silent.)” seems to have taken a particular interest in the grains on the wooden platform, as she lied down possessed for a good, healthy ten minutes.
The next play, the best of the lot, one of the best rehearsed and directed plays with a universal message to people of varied ethnicities, and undoubtedly the pinnacle of all fine art performances, sadly cannot be reported upon as my source seems to have felt the immediate pangs of nature.
Gajji! Nimma Ajji! An innocent victim of circumstance, found himself in the Raichur Parlimentaly Jail of the United States of America. He was arranged by the warden into a cohort decorated with: Pee bag, who was sentenced to rigorous imprisonment for peeing on the well used suburban walkway. Mikhial Schoffielddeis (A gangster with tattoos of the warden’s office pinned onto his vest.) who came all the way from the Russian embassy of Bangalore to free his American blood-brother, named Linkoln Burried Ach(phlegm)mhed Ishfaklal Bedwetter, a Pakistani, who was arrested for explosive flatulence (It kinda went like… “uuurrgghh urrghhhh BOOM! .. excuse me…”). Finally Gajjini expressing is spectacular physical prowess, dug a …… hole. Paused. Forgot about it. Paused. Dug it again. The play then went on, blagh blaugh.
But MOMMY! I don’t wanna write anymore. EHe?
Signing off..
— SB
— ABC (Challu)

GUEST COLUMN:
Here comes the Man, here comes the man… (Christian wedding tune)
He’s so bored, he’s so wild
He’s stinks like an American in a pig sty….
Muhahahahahahaha….This is to certify that this is the most hilarious piece of trash ever written. And by certifying this I mean that I loved it but was too ashamed to say it because of issues relating to oligarchy, apartheid and homeopathy. This a special article dedicated to the skit called “no smoking……..(after that I stopped listening)”….Well I dint have to deserve the punishment of watching it again. It describes the life of a guy who doesn’t understand the beauty, the marvel and the magic of Nicotine. Hence the “skit” was stupid, irrelevant and doesn’t do justice to the whiny little sarcastic, pseudo-intellectual, erratic, eccentric thespian (The SB)
Thanks and cheers
Vigi (send my cheque by mail and make the beer cold)

GUEST’S GUEST COLUMN:
I haven’t read this piece of literary blasphemy, in fact I don’t even read my own (plagiarized) scripts, or pay attention to my actors or anybody for that matter. All I do is listen to my actors talk about their never ending escapades in ‘the jungle’ of love. Every one act play and skit staged this Udbhav (except my team’s) had something strange to offer to the audience and by strange I mean sudden decrease in brain activity resulting in drooling, hooting and cleavage gawking(not that the last part’s strange, I do it all the time). Writing for the guest’s guests column I would personally like to acknowledge Ashwin Ashok and Gurupad without whom we all would never have had the pleasure of being part of this disastrous day.(SB didn’t have the stones to stage a one act play this time around, he’s shifted to music ha! Ha! But watch out SB, Jomy is going to join you soon)
Cheers,
Gagan(Son of Gan)

GUEST’S GUEST’S GUEST COLUMN:
Ah. Never really thought I would be doing this again, especially after 7 days of torture at VTU. I don’t really want to write much. I actually won’t. This is just for kicks.
I’m done.
Cheers and Beers
GP

Rosemary and Thyme

A young lad with a cup of tea,
and rosemary in his ear,
set off to fight eight cats,
of which he had no fear.

A passing fox, thyme his name,
sitting on a herd of eggs,
proceeded to confer with the lad,
how to tap with the legs.

Thyme! the lad yelled, are you a cat?
or a snivelling mongoose? or rat?
couldn’t be you for you behold,
a cherishable top hat!

If I were you the fox replied,
I’d quick put some rosemary up the snout.
And with splendid gait, the two paupers marched,
with their lips held on a pout.

Sailed away.

I bought my self a little boat
put in all the songs i wrote
didnt even to stop to gloat
and sailed away.

A king in a distant land
was sitting in a frying pan
jumped onto my litttle can
and we sailed away.

A merchant in his sturdy ship
had some problems he culd skip
hopped aboard my little skip
and we sailed away.

A maiden from a distant town
shed her claims to the crown
came along with just a gown
and we sailed away.
 
A monster creeped out of the ocean
he had green eyes which held a notion
we set about in frantic motion
as we sailed away.

The king took out his trusty sword
with one swell swoop it fell off board
the monster grunted at the foolish goard
as we sailed away.

The merchant tried to negotiate
tried to barter a wealthy fate
if the monster would not keep them too late
as we sailed away.

The maiden with an angry frown
yelled to the beast “go around!”
It slunk away without a sound
and we sailed away.

A Semi-Ditty

In the halting winds of nights forlon,
she rode her wiley steed,
through the starlit barren plain,
to help those who would heed.
 
A lonesome traveller, she did persist,
with hope that someone may,
heed her signs and worried words,
of the treachery that before them, lay.
 
Thinking back to times before,
when peace rules the land,
especially of her curious youth,
when her dictionary was close at hand.

I was supposed to conjour an epic tale for a friend. BUT! Writers Block.  Incidentally “Writer’s Block” is an album by Peter Bjorn and John.

The ElectroDuck Man (1545 B.C.)

Several days were spent rummaging the secret quarters of the ancient Hero.

A page from a long lost diary was found. Several linguists working for hours finally translated the excerpt.

——————

The boy sat musing the mindful etiquette of a fish he imagined flying about the room. It caused great interest to the breeze, which impulsively came to a standstill with hopes of befriending the fish. An electric cable sparked defiantly to get the boy’s attention. With long strides he approached the loose wire and offered some opinions about the weather. The wire waved about slightly, reminding the boy of the time a warbling fowl patiently serviced a blade of grass. The fowl, of his imaginings, sat dejected by the fauna, whence the boy picked it up by the beak and carefully positioned it next to his new shiny friend. The fowl contemplated the situation as the boy pointedly moved his paraphelia towards the wire. A sudden shudder went through the boy, and he started soaring upwards propelled by flailing legs. The fowl in a desperate attempt to save the unusual human, pecked harshly at his feet. The circuit completed, two crisp wafers floated to gently to the ground. The breeze, disappointed, obstinately moved away. The fish dived into the passing breeze and disappeared.

Several miles away, the great souls reincarnated as a child to an electrician and a waterfowl. And thus ”ElectroDuck Man” came to exist.