Scribbles

“They: the world is here at whatsapp, where are you? Me: is its whatsapp or sharda university? Just because world is there, I should be there is no valid argument.” Oh lord, look at the times we have arrived. The joke stares me in my eyes everyday-facebook, whatsapp and other social networking sites are for connecting with people. World which is already disconnected and disoriented and detached from itself comes here to connect.  This is Why I decided to pen it down. I always sit in my classroom or any space for that matter as one of the extinct species who failed to adapt to the fast changing communication hostile environment .they discuss last night conversations on whatsapp-who frustrated whom, who posted stupid statement, who tried being beautiful, who left group, and what not. Welcome to the age of hyper humanity-where communication is not a way of life but life itself. World lives on facebook and whatsapp-it’s just for basic needs food, clothing shelter they come to

Life what a teacher you have been Giving right lessons at right time So that crap doesn’t consume my sheen. You killed some of my petty dreams To let the giant ones take birth Debris of shattered dreams disappointed But you made me forge the mightiest If not those hard moments When thee tested me I would have been an ordinary being, You were harsh so that Weak in me should die forever Fearful tears would not again let me shiver. I broke from the fever. Loss became victory. Why? How? When? It still remains a mystery How that cry child became fearless woman. How silence became the furious roar. I have become what I never imagined before. Since then, inside there has been revolutionary beam Yes life what a teacher, you have been.

In our past, roots lies of what happens to us in the present. In my bachelors, first semester, 6th class Sunaiana mam advised me, after reading my piece, you should go for development journalism. It will suit you. When I came back to my seat, I knew I will definitely ignore this advice. And I did, until when I out of curiosity googled ‘development journalism and its future prospects’, it fascinated me, but not that much, that I will make my career out of it. I am P sainath follower, so somewhat I related to it. In second semester, when external examiner came for viva, disaster happened. He asked me what I want to be. Though I was in dilemma, but to sound impressive I claimed that I wanted to be a development journalist. He asked me what will be included in this journalism?I said “ideas of change, how to change the social mindset for development, gender and thinking. The far sighted visionary got enraged and roared “this is no definition, you invented your own. It does not exi

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Kapil Dev carries his black tattered bag on his right shoulder and comes to his ‘shop’ -- a shop which he sets up daily at a corner in Tikona Park in busy Jamia Nagar. Adjacent to a small wooden slab in the corner hand shoe laces and soles of different shapes and sizes. On other side of the wall is a rusted box, in which Kapil keeps the tools of his trade such as needles, sticking gum and threads. While he is still arranging his shop, his first customer of the day arrives; a man in his 40s, who needs his shoes polished. Kapil instantly leaves all his work and gets ready to serve the customer. He says “ho gaya , ho gaya”, after shining the shoes of the customer. It is  7.30 am  and Kapil’s hands are already black with the polish. He charges Rs. 10 for a polish and between Rs 15 to Rs 20 for mending or sewing a damaged shoe. Hailing from West Bengal, Kapil has been in this profession for almost 14 years. For Kapil, this is his paternal profession.  Though he has himself studies