The Watermelon Ways

Summer heat has a way of getting to you. Everything is so sticky, sweaty, so suffocating. It's almost impossible to go 5 minutes without the fan. The heat brings about irritation, frustration, and an incapacitation - it's too hot to do anything. Fortunately, Nature has brought about a balance during summer - a few delicacies which neutralize the heat, if only for a while. The best one, no doubt, is the watermelon. Hard as a coconut, flesh so light, it seems hollow, and that impossible, impossible green - a rain-forest tree's leaf-green. These are the key features of summer's best-loved fruit. Yet, even the exquisite exterior is nothing compared to what lies inside. A flash of a long, silver knife, and you are exposed to the best part of the fruit. Slices are made semi-circular, thin, but large. Every bite into the diluted red flesh is bliss. It's like being surrounded by water. Sweet, sticky, and cool, the red liquid floods your mouth with every bite and the flesh disintegrates immediately. There's never enough watermelon in the world, to satisfy our cravings during summer. After eating (well, it's more liking scraping clean, honestly) away the juicy insides, we are left with a smile-shaped shell, one, that honestly, only widens our own. 

Travelling...

Lately I've realised what an impact travelling has had on me. Not even travelling, but just the fact that we're going out of the country, leaves me with an excitement and anticipation like nothing else. New experiences have changed the way I look at countries; now, it feels as though every place is a new world – different cultures, different languages, and different people.

I think the best example of my feelings would be my emotions after the Singapore – Kuala Lampur trip that we took last October. To be honest, one place has merged with the other and I have lost sense of what actually happened where. Yet, this journey acted as a trigger and opened me up to a whole new part of the world. Suddenly, I have an irrational desire to know everything, everything, about the cultures of the countries which can be called 'Oriental'. China, Japan, Korea, there's not one place I don't want to learn about. Watching movies like The Karate Kid has only strengthened my wish. It's funny how two of my English chapters – one about Sadako Sasaki and the other about an old Chinese women – brought back a flood of memories of the trip (though somewhat jumbled). I've realised that small things around you – how the sky looks, or a topic you are learning about in school – can immediately transport you to a country you have previously visited (if only for a moment).

Now, almost four years after moving to India, and two years after our last trip, we are going back to the US again. Having lived there, that country crops up more in my thoughts and dreams than any other place. But the knowledge that we are going back, for two blissful weeks, is something I'm savoring. It has surprised even me, how much I have missed the US. Like how I always feel before a trip, my thirst for adventure has increased. Yet going back to the US is unlike visiting any other country, where most things remain unknown. There's a draw to my beloved America, a single, strong thread in my heart which connects me to the country halfway across the world. There are random times when I become nostalgic for all the friends and experiences I had ever had there. Like I have said before, that large country, those experiences and people are a part of me and always will be, though they may not be thought of everyday.

One thing that I have realised is that before any trip, my imagination starts running. My brain builds stories on stories, creating fantasies which I enjoy for days together. Of course, the trip is often nothing like my stories (which involve adventure and magic), but it manages to surprise me nonetheless. And after all, what's the harm in dreaming?

Summer Serenade

Music's the start,

To a whole new day,

It opens my heart,

In a whole new way,

For one long hour, we get the chance,

To soar, to glide, to flow, to dance.

My heart's a thrummer,

To the beat of the summer

Heaven, means the enticing pool,

Reflecting the sky so blue,

I'm engulfed by water cool,

Takes me to a world so new.

Being in water, is being with a friend,

Once the fun starts, the joy never ends.

My heart's a thrummer,

To the beat of summer

Sticky and sweet,

The ice cream drips,

A flavorful sheet,

Upon my lips,

Coolness under the sun so bright,

Small and sweet, the season's delights.

My heart's a thrummer,

To the beat of summer

No more cares, no more worries, for once,

It's time to be happy and free,

A bliss that lasts for two long months,

To enjoy being you and me,

Come join me, come taste a slice,

Of heaven on earth, it's paradise.

And I guarantee that your heart, like mine....

Will become a thrummer...

To the beat of summer

Testing Times

"Get to the books!" The teachers say,
"Study! Study!" They chant all day.
"Don't waste time, go do some work!"
My! All this talk drives me berserk!
"Do some yoga, it'll relieve the stress,
But remember, 12th grade is harder than the rest!"
Great. We're getting lectures, warnings, threats.
The pressure's building, and it's makin' us sweat!
Let's get serious! Stop acting cheesy!
Let me remind you, exams won't be easy!
Oh, dratted exams! Why are they there?
They make us study so hard, so much to prepare!
Moments of peace no longer exist,
Academics will hit you as hard as a fist.
Not the exam, but studying before,
Leaves me hating it more and more.
The greatest part of it all, when the exams are done and away...
That blissful, lazy holiday,
And we're back with a grin, feeling like the best,
When all of a sudden, oh no! Another surprise test!

The year that was

The year that was to be the end,

But, Thank God, December 22^nd came my friend,

The year that London hosted the games,

To many athletes, it brought them fame,

We watched Michael Phelps burn as bright as fire,

And watched his medal count keep getting higher,

As India, we achieved quite a feat,

They made us so proud, our athletes,

The year which was a repeat of before,

When Barack Obama won the elections once more,

The year in which I learnt to love,

 But hold steady in case I was given a shove,

When I realized not everyone was a God-sent,

Some people were enemies, others were friends,

The year I became strong, no longer that weak,

In the debate finals, I could easily speak,

The year after two which gave me a chance,

To open my heart and relearn how to dance,

The year that showed me I knew piano well,

As I slowly conquered Skyfall of Adele,

The year I finally became a teen,

And realized it wasn’t as easy as it seems,

The year I held myself when life would get me to shatter,

But I managed it all, and that’s all that matters,

The year I learnt to take it slow,

And learnt to never let loved ones go,

The year I became my father’s daughter,

In the sports world, I found myself in “water”,

The year I realized my father and mother,

Were the most important and no other,

Could’ve been loved more than my little brother,

The year that put me down but gave me some lifts,

Chances to display all my gifts,

I live, I love, I laugh, I write,

I act so stupid, but I can be bright,

But enough of me, I’ll go on no more,

I don’t want to prove myself a bore,

Just know it was an amazing year,

All great experiences brought me here,

I finally learnt to love myself,

What a year 2012!!!!

Akal Chakraane Laga

In my class, history is never boring. It very easily becomes intertwined with our opinions of how the British treated India. Let’s just say, that it is a good thing the colonial British and we live in different eras, and don’t have to meet each other.

Our first lesson of the second term dealt with English education. The chapter started with an introduction to William Jones, a talented linguist. I instantly felt a spark of familiarity with this man who knew English, French, Greek, Arabian, Persian, and Sanskrit. But the way, the anti-Orientalists criticized the culture and languages of India really angered me. It reminded me of my own tough history with Hindi, a language I’m leaving behind this year.

In 5^th grade, when we moved to India and I got to know that I had to learn Hindi, I didn’t know what to think. I literally only knew ‘doodh’ (milk) and ‘mera naam Priya hain’ (my name is Priya). We started that summer.

I learnt the alphabets within a week, which was good, as I had so much more to learn! I struggled at school. I would draw pictures of fruits next to the Hindi word of it (example – drawing an apple next to ‘seb’) while my classmates read ‘kavitayen’ (poems) which would give me headaches.

In terms of Hindi, my school-changing didn’t help much. The teacher wasn’t all that great in fifth grade. I still made mistakes – I would mess up the gender or the tense or the verb.

People would laugh. That was the worst bit of it all. They would roll their eyes – bringing tears to mine. They still do. They ridicule my language and my accent. But the fact I got this far is due to the tuitions I took in Delhi. Gosh, did that help! They transformed me from a pathetic weakling to a passably good Hindi speaker. I really started picking up and loving the language. Then, we moved to Bangalore. One more year of Hindi as second language, and I realized I couldn’t do it. I simply could not do Hindi as my second language in the 9^th or 10^th.  So I gave it up. It’s now my third language.

My mom still squirms and hisses when I make grammatical mistakes.

My friends still beg me to shut up.

My relatives still laugh.

But I? I’ll keep on learning, yaar! Agle saal se, main Hindi ki pariksha nahi doongi; par ab main Hindi ko behad pasand karti hoon. School me subject samaapth, magar meri zindagi mein uski shuruaath!!

[From next year, I will no longer give the Hindi exam. However, now I’ve really come to like the language. It has ended as a subject in school, but has just gotten started in my life.]  

Pro Bro

It's strange to know that you are not here,

No source of constant blab is near.

No questions, no requests for advice,

No justified replies for something not nice.

And the moment you see your parents' daughter,

No questions about Harry Potter!

About flying brooms, magic sticks,

Harry, Voldy, or Bellatrix!

No annoyance, no frustration,

No more fights, no irritations.

All is calm, yet not quite a joy,

For what's there to do without you, boy?

No one to fight with, no one to tease,

No questions to answer, when we both make peace!

No chatter or laughter, anymore...

Without you bro, it's quite a bore!

Yet it's something, that I'll never admit –

That I miss you, uh! I sound like a twit!

So I'll mask my joy with a face of sorrow,

When you return home, day after tomorrow!