The Lunar Eclipse

The fight was on. One big, bulky fighter dressed in black was almost killing the small fighter wearing white as if he had known he was going to lose and had come for his own funeral. The audience around them clapped and cheered, some even dancing. No one, no one at all was cheering the white guy. No one showed pity for him. Instead, they laughed at him. I wanted to grab it away from danger, to help it somehow, but I couldn’t…

I snapped back into reality. My eyes focused on the white moon getting slowly eaten up by the earths shadow. This was the fight? Whoa, it sure was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen in the long, 12 years of my life. I stared in amazement as I saw the moon in so many different forms, sometimes as a half eaten apple, sometimes as a boat, sometimes as a yin- yan, sometimes even as an eye without a pupil, staring right at me. The stars around it twinkled brightly, as if blinking at the spectacular sight. At that point of time, I couldn’t believe that I was actually standing there, on a cold, dark night in Aamby Valley, watching the lunar eclipse taking place right before my very eyes.

We were having a blast playing volleyball, when my mother noticed it. We kids were least interested, and, simply giving a quick glance at it, looked away and continued our game. Only after the game did we realize that it was the lunar eclipse, only then did we realize that the moon was slowly becoming smaller and smaller. All we could do was imagine how beautiful it would look when the moon was completely hidden. Would it be invisible? Would it make the black sky seem blue? Our eagerness took over our cold, and we refused to leave the place until it was over.

Often, when I have nothing to do, I look up at the sky and see the same thing- a pitch-black background with one pure white moon. But the lunar eclipse was something completely different. Never before had I seen that many stars that I saw on that night, surrounding the half black moon. I could have sat up counting them for hours, each one being a different color and a different size. It was a one in a million opportunity to see the lunar eclipse, and I may never be able to see it again, but that picture will stay in my mind forever.

Maya

Hello, friend. It was nice of you to read this today. I'm Mohini, a seven year old girl living in the slums of mumbai. I guess you maybe wondering how a little seven year old girl is writing a story. Well, my sister Maya taught me. Maya is the smartest girl of our slum, even though she's only twelve. She's also the bravest person in our slum, much braver than most men here. Let me tell you a story about Maya, a story that made the whole slum proud.

Our mother died a few years after I was born. My father loved us dearly, but he worked all day so that he earned enough money to feed us, and saw us once a day. It was my sister Maya who brought me up. She took care of me throughout the day, made sure I was fed well, and played the role of a mother. She used to play with me all day, and made sure I was always happy. After all, we were always at home, and found no reason to go out in the sunlight, except to play in the evening. This was because the daughters in our slum were not allowed to go to school. Maya and I were very disappointed with this system, and always wanted to go to school and learn the things that the boys in our slum learnt. We too wanted to grow up to be successful workers, not just mere housewives. Our desire to learn increased each day.

Maya and I were determined and hardworking, and completed all the minor jobs that we were given successfully, whether it was drawing water from the well, transporting vegetables from one hut to another, or feeding rice grains to the birds. We tried our best to impress the people of our slum, but none of them seemed to realise the need to educate girls like us in the slums. We even told our father that we wanted to go to school and study. He understood how we felt but said that the people of our slum were stubborn and would not listen. Although he promised he would help us, maya decided to face this problem by herself.

There was no stopping maya now. She was going to convince the people that girls should have the opportunities that boys do, that girls should be educated just like boys. Unfortunately, whatever she tried, failed. I offered to help, thinking she was going to give up, but she politely said that she was going to handle it. All I could do was wait and watch.

One day, as I sat on a small bench next to our window, I saw the boys running to the nearby school with their colourful backpacks slung over their shoulders. They ran one after another, laughing, and didn't seem to realise that there was a girl present in their group. A girl going to school? Could that be......maya! My eyes widened with pride as I saw my sister running to school, her head held high, ready to fight for the rights of girls, ready to show the world that she deserved to be educated.

Only when she sat in the classroom did the teacher realise that there was a girl in the classroom. He shouted at her to go out, but she sat still, not moving a muscle. When she saw the teacher's face changing from an angry red to an angrier purple, she finally stood up, all eyes on her. She walked to the front of the class and faced the students. Then she said, "I am Maya, daughter of Mahesh, the best carpenter in the whole slum. I am present here today to tell you all what I have been wanting to say for a long time." the whole class, including the teacher, stared in disbelief at maya, who was then a ten year old girl standing amidst a group of smart students, the only girl in the whole slum who had the guts to walk into a classroom and fight for her rights. The adults of the slums, hearing that a girl was in a school, ran to the class to see what was happening. "I have come here today to tell you," she continued, "that we girls deserve to be educated just like you boys". Several protests rose in the background, some people even laughed, but Maya's stern eyes quieted them. "I want you to tell me, why shouldn't girls be educated? What makes you think that we are no smarter than boys?" "Girls don't have the brains that we have", one student said. "Girls are made to maintain a house, not to work!" said another. "Girls are not as strong, smart or brave as us!" "Girls are too weak to even to walk to school, how will their brain be strong enough to learn anything?"

Hearing this, maya said,"Well, if you don't even give us a chance, how would you know whether our brains are as smart as yours? You say girls are not strong? Then how come we are the ones that draw water from the well, even though it's a hard job? Pushing a heavy cart full of food all around the slums is no easy job! Do you think girls are not brave? Then what have I done today, walking into a school to fight, is that not bravery? How dare you say that we are weak? There is nothing that we girls lack. We deserve to be educated. We deserve to become successful in life."

I thought people would shout protests again, but to my surprise, none of them did. One by one, the students rose, and started clapping. Soon the whole village was clapping at my extraordinary sister. Then, from the crowd, emerged my father, who ran and hugged his daughter. Then he said, "My daughter has done something that no other girl had the strength to do. She has shown us that she wants girls in our slum to learn. She deserves what she wants. I'm extremely proud of both my daughters, and I know that some day, they will be more successful than any of us."

Hearing the whole slum cheer for my sister made me so proud. They then agreed to send girls to school. Maya topped her class each year, and though I learnt a lot in school, I learnt more from maya. She taught me to feel free to express my thoughts and feelings, to be brave. Before each exam, the boys would come running to ask her their doubts! Maya didi, someday, I wish to become just like you.

5 by 5 lines

Perfect teeth-

It glimmered so brightly that I had to cover my eyes. They were in straight, perfect lines, not even one was crooked. They were the pearliest white I had ever seen, and they made her smile so beautiful. Free from braces or any other twisted wire material, they made all the other girls jealous. As I stood there, grinning proudly at everyone else, I could hear everyone else thinking, ‘whoa, that girl has the most perfect teeth in the world’.

October heat-

This month’s heat is getting unbearable. People walked along the dirty, heated Mumbai road irritably, wiping their faces with napkins or fanning themselves with whatever they had. The waiters and chefs must have earned a lot of money this month, as people kept walking into restaurants just for the air conditioners. This October heat is killing me.

French fries-

I licked my lips ravenously. Fine, thin potato cuboids glimmered in oil as it fried on the wide pan. I could almost feel the unhealthiness melting in my mouth. I was jumping of my seat impatiently, hungrily waiting for that beautiful plate to land on my table, with the creamy tomato sauce. Waiting, waiting to take that first, delicious bite, for my teeth to sink into hot, golden, FRENCH FRIES!

Best Friends-

She held my hand and we walked together, laughing, down our imaginary road. When she cried, I cried, when she smiled, I smiled, when she screamed, I screamed, when she giggled, I giggled. I understood her, she understood me. We told each other our deepest, darkest secrets. It was like we could look into each other’s mind, because she always knew what I was thinking, I always knew what she was thinking. We did everything together, and we were unbreakable. After all, we were best friends.

Tomorrow-

Tomorrow. A new day. New things to do, new places to go, new people to meet. Today can be the most boring day ever, but tomorrow can be the most exciting. Tomorrow is the reason life moves on, today, we can be stuck in the same moment, but tomorrow, we can proceed. Sure, its just another day, but what if there was no tomorrow? Tomorrow can be Friday, tomorrow can be your birthday, tomorrow can be your arangetram, and tomorrow can be your wedding day. Tomorrow can be the most important day of your life, because tomorrow, you take one step further.

All Good Things Come To an End. Do they?

Last year, when I was in 6D, I actually felt like I was a part of something spectacular. Every single person in that class made a difference, and the class was incomplete if even one person wasn’t there. We were all a team. We fought amongst ourselves a lot, but who says teammates don’t fight?

In the beginning, it felt like the year was going to move on very, very slowly. First came studying, then tests, then exams. It was only after the year ended did we realize how much fun we had, and how the year went by so quickly. We went through everything together, didn’t we? Exams, fights, tears, Christmas Concert, everything else. Our Christmas Concert was an evening to remember. Every one of us was a star that day, sparkling together above everybody else, with our class teacher right in the middle. We couldn’t have made 6D the best class if it wasn’t for Miss Khandadia.

Miss Khandadia is just the most extraordinary teacher I have ever had. She wouldn’t start her math lesson without solving our fights and listening to our problems. She was there for us, just like how we were there for each other. She kept us shining throughout the year. She supported all of us, gave us an encouraging smile before every competition, and be most excited when we won. She was our best friend, and the best class teacher ever.

We had a party on the last of school, just for our class, in the lunch break, and by the time it was over there were packets of Lays on the floor, pieces of muffins on the desks, Sprite all over the dustbin, and laughter in the air. It looked like the aftermath of a junk- food tsunami. We thought Miss Khandadia would really get angry this time, but all she did was smile at us, told us to enjoy and clean up the mess later. Has anyone ever had a teacher like that?

Well, when the year came to an end, our amazing class did too. Miss Khandadia had to leave the school as she was getting married, which was a tale ready to bring us to tears, but she’ll always be a happy memory in our head which we will never forget. Maybe all good things do come to an end. We may never have as good a teacher, but someday, we may have a class as marvelous as 6D.

My Daddy

If you ask any kid, they’ll say ‘my dad’s the best’ and ‘my dad is better than all other dads,’ etc., etc. I’m sure that’s what everyone would expect me to say. But my daddy’s really, really special. He’s funny, silly, and does everything to make us happy.

When he burps, the whole house shakes, and he’ll grin when we look at him with disgusted faces. When we play music, he’ll come inside our room and start dancing, or, in other words, waving his arms and legs frantically, causing us to laugh uncontrollably, or sometimes causing us to roll our eyes but eventually smile. When he cracks jokes, which don’t ever make sense, we all groan, giggling at the frown on his big, bearded face. He’ll buy us everything we want, enjoying the hugs we give him after we finally buy it. When he shouts at us, he’ll feel guilty about it and come running to give us his bear- like hug. He’s just simply amazing, my daddy. Sur, there maybe other dads who make their family laugh, but what puts my daddy above all the rest is his smiling, happy face, his sense of humor as he tries to make everyone laugh, and of course, his unconditional love and generosity, which makes him not only loving and happy from the outside, but a wonderful person from the inside.

I love you a lot, daddy. I couldn’t ask for a better father.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

The Rehearsal

Before I knew it, I started dancing, my whole body shaking, and a look of nervousness on my face. I had practiced, but I still felt unsure and scared, even though this was just a rehearsal. Our Bharatanatyam class’s annual day was on Sunday, and naturally, we all were nervous. Though no one was as nervous as I was. Why was I so scared? It was just a rehearsal, right? I willed myself to dance, and tried hard to focus. ‘If I forget this time, on our final rehearsal,’ I thought, ‘My guru will be really angry.’ At that very moment, I lost focus and forgot what step was supposed to come next. I could see my teacher looking at me, rather glaring at me. ‘Its okay,’ I told myself. ‘Just continue.’ I went on, until I forgot again. I was starting to lose focus. I let out a soft sigh of relief when the first dance got over. ‘ Don’t get your hopes up,’ a voice inside my head said. ‘Still two more dances left’. I went inside another room where my water bottle was kept with my two friends. We sat there for a while, sipping water and discussing the mistakes we made in the dance. Someone came to us and told us that we needed to shift to another hall. We followed her, and came face to face with a fuming teacher and an anxious group of dancers.

Our teacher screamed at us for coming late, pointing at the group of waiting students, ready for the next dance. My face began turning red too, and I felt like crying. Hadn’t she screamed at us enough already? We took our places and started dancing. I didn’t think I would forget this dance; it was my favorite. To my great surprise, I did. Even though I only made a mistake once, it was a very noticeable mistake, and I could see the students behind me looking towards my direction, trying to spot out more mistakes. I kept dancing, trying to avoid looking at my teacher, and I didn’t forget anything else. Just one more dance was left. That was nothing to be happy of, though, because this dance was a dance that I made most mistakes in. The dance started, and this time, I was really, very nervous. During the first part, I forgot. During the second part, the same thing happened. This continued throughout the whole dance, and I could see smoke coming out from my guru’s ears. I was not the only one who didn’t know; more than half of the group forgot the dance in many places. After the dance was finally over, my teacher told us to go to the other room and practice that dance five times. We looked at her pleadingly, but she ignored us. Before starting with her next group, she told my friend and me that we danced very badly. What does she expect? We both had learnt it in two days because we had to go for camp and didn’t have enough time. We stormed inside the other room, frustrated, and practiced it over and over again. We went to my teacher again and she stubbornly told us to leave without touching her feet as we were supposed to do at the beginning and end of every class. Just before I stepped out of the room, she came up to me and said, “ You have to practice more. You’re standing in the front row, what will people think of me if you forget something? Don’t put my name down, that’s more important.” I stood there, stunned, as she left, trying to ignore the sting, which I felt in my heart when she said those words.

I then realized that anger, sadness and nervousness mixed together forms a very unusual feeling, a feeling that makes want to blast, like a volcano, but you’re too afraid to. We just had to move on and forget about it. Why waste all your energy crying bitterly, afraid and frustrated when you can just be happy all the time, so that others feel happy around you and don’t feel like being angry? That’s what I learnt from this small incident, a rehearsal that made me practice and practice, not worrying about what people said or thought about me. In the end, what really matters is what you think of yourself.