Desicritics Author: Samrita Devgan

Fiction: The Glass Is Still Empty

Samrita Devgan — Tue, 21 Oct 2008 11:08:33 EDT

The heat was at its peak. The bright, hard light simply barged into my room through the panes, just like an unwanted acquaintance. The blades of the ceiling fan tried hard to out beat the other. The rattling of the cooler irked my senses. My lips were parched. My siesta came to a painstaking halt with a sudden choke in the throat. Clean, pure water was all I could think of to quench my thirst. I got out of bed and walked up to the refrigerator. An empty glass lay on it which seemed to be reflecting light in all its hues. I immediately opened the refrigerator and grabbed a chilled bottle of water. Pouring water into the glass seemed too much of an effort, and appeared time consuming. So, wasting no more precious time, the bottle served the purpose. As the water trickled down my throat and the satisfaction, thereafter, was nothing less than someone lost in a desert, having come across a spa of groundwater. My eyes then caught the empty glass once again, and now I greeted it with the refreshing smile of a kid after her feed.

My thoughts were interrupted by the jarring sound of the doorbell. As I looked through the peephole, I was instantly filled with wonder and excitement. I quickly opened the door and there stood my long time pal, Rhea. We had spent years of togetherness in school and college. Though I had been in constant touch, I was seeing her after five long years. As I was about to embrace her as a gesture of my happiness, my eyes lowered to where her hands were. She held a wreath. I choked and gasped for breath. It was she who now made the first move. She put her arms round me and took me in. A catharsis overtook me and as I hugged her next, it was not happiness but a sharp pain that accompanied it. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Rhea tried her best to console me, but her words seemed to be falling on deaf ears. My sister was the baby of our family, and the world was never going to be the same without her. Without Piya our home was merely bricks, sans life.

As the dusk set in, the house was full of mourners. All sound seemed to have vanished. Lips were without words. Despite the crowd, only whispers were audible. Then, as I walked up to the refrigerator once again, for a sip, I noticed the glass on it. It was still empty to all human eyes. All scientific theories could prove this fact. But to me, in its emptiness, the glass seemed to have witnessed a plethora of feelings. To me it symbolised a world in itself. As my water bags burst once more, I could now see only the hazy picture frame, of a smiling Piya, that lay behind the stainless glass.

Poetry: A Search...

Samrita Devgan — Sat, 27 Sep 2008 06:50:43 EDT

Under the dazzling firmament,
I sit lost in reverie,
Should he be a Knight in shining armour
To sweep me off my feet,
Or tall, dark and handsome
So I'd swoon at the sight of thee.
Charm me with a magic wand,
Nor hypnotise me with folklore,
Mine will possess a heart of gold,
A spirit like the Phoenix
The compassion in his eyes
Will entice kings and paupers alike;
He will be what the Kohinoor was to us
But this time, preserved till eternity.

Original Fiction: A Day in a Life

Samrita Devgan — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 11:02:44 EDT

As my feet touched the stony, cold, kitchen slab, I felt a shiver run down my back, and into my rear. The vast expanse of this granular, sand brown slab that extended itself into the horizon, made me feel low and lonely, as if I had been abandoned in the middle of a desert on a winter night. The morose ambience lent no relief to the situation either.

About fifty members from my community had gathered around my brother. I could see his fragile black frame, almost lifeless, lying flat on its back on the same chilly slab, with all fours up in the air. He had been my only family for the last four months of my existence. As the numbness of my body gave way to rational thought, it struck me that I needed to get my act together, if I were to see my elder brother back in action. I jolted out of my trance-like state, and promptly shot into action. I convinced the members that we must venture out to look for some food, to help my brother survive. It didn’t take long for five volunteers to step aside. I asked my brother to hang in there until the six of us got back with food. Saying that, we left, my heart weighing upon me with its grief.

I led the file, fully aware of the responsibility undertaken. It was an unwritten law of the Land of the Ants that in case of any obstacle encountered on a journey, it is the leader who would come up with a solution. This solution would then be unquestioningly followed by the troop. The winter air and the freezing slab made our journey arduous. My fours felt stiff and seemed like they were painfully trying to drag my body along. The five behind me tried hard to keep up the pace.

Just then I saw a pool of water before us. I stopped in time and the others stopped behind me. I first touched the water with one of my tentacles, to gauge the force. To my ant luck, the water was stagnant. I then decided to walk round to the edge of the slab. I looked back and commanded the others that we would have to use the tightrope balancing strategy. All of us delicately, and successfully, crossed over. Now we began our descent to the floor. Throughout my descent all I could think of was my brother’s frail body. I would give anything to see him up and about once again.

As soon as we touched the ground, I commanded that six of us split into a group of two each and look around for food. Whoever found something would inform the other two groups well in time. Though it was meant to be a command, to me it sounded more like a plea to help me save the life of my only family. My accomplice and me went left, while one of the groups went straight ahead and the other took to the right.

God seemed to be working miracles for me today. Barely 1000 steps to the left I saw a snowy white, square-shaped object. As soon as we approached it, and tasted a bite each, we realized it was a sugar cube. This was more than we could have asked for. I instantly told my accomplice to hurry and inform the others. After what seemed a lifetime, I saw all five approaching in a single file. As soon as they reached I told them that this was a big catch, and even though we might have difficulty in pushing it all the way up, we did not have time to look for options. So this had to be it. Everyone seemed to see reason.

Four of us took to the back of the cube, and two positioned themselves on either side. We began pushing the towering cube with our head and front legs. The cube did move, but very slowly. I kept cheering everyone on, saying that once we made the steep climb, we were almost there.

Finally we reached the point where something seemed to be blocking the cube, for it just wouldn’t budge. The ant on the right declared that we had hit the wall and that now the only way to proceed was upwards. Just then two grown-ups, with their polished, jet-black bodies, came up to us and offered to help. We readily agreed. Then it was just the two big ones at the back and all of us scattered on the sides. The uphill climb turned out to be the easiest part of our expedition. As soon as we reached the top, the bigger ants said their goodbyes.

Wasting no more precious time, and heart of hearts quite happy with our find, the six of us once again hurried on. We safely managed to cross the pool of water, which by now was just damp slab. Once my eyes set upon the group surrounding my brother, I asked one of the ants to go and inform him that we were within a hundred steps. Our pace slightly dropped as soon as he left, but since we were like racers with the finishing line in sight, we decided to give the last lap our best shot. But, just then a towering white, cylindrical structure landed before us with a thud. We froze. I skipped a beat as I saw a hairy finger approaching us. The finger tapped twice on the sugar cube and we scurried away in fear.

The next moment I saw two fingers pick up the cube and blob it into the cylinder…a watery pall cast itself over my eyes. As I craned my neck to catch a glimpse of the last remnants of my inanimate saviour, I only saw a human hand twirl in excitement at the feat accomplished…and what sounded like the ringing of bells, rent my heart into a zillion pieces.

The Admission Maze

Samrita Devgan — Wed, 6 Feb 2008 03:13:29 EST

Well settled. Happily married. Now thinking of expanding your family? In that case, let’s see what your concerns should be- economic stability, job security and maturity to groom a child, right?

BUZZZZZZ!!!! REALITY CHECK!!!

If you are a denizen of the 21st century, following is your checklist to expanding your family:
· Both parents should at least hold a Masters’ degree.
· Both must be the alumni of some renowned educational institution.
· Make sure you plan out a minimum of two kids.
· Ensure a residential proximity of about 4 km radius to a reputed school.
· Most importantly, if you have the slightest scope of re-locating…FLEE!

The above is, precisely, what the present admission system in the National Capital Region has evolved (!) to. With the introduction of the 100-point system, clubbed with the chaos encircling the age limit, the admission process to schools in Delhi is left in a muddle. Last year (2007), in accordance with the Delhi Cabinet’s decision, a child was to be admitted to school at the age of four, directly to pre-primary, and then promoted to Class I, at the age of five. However, this year (2008) the class structure and nomenclatures have undergone change. The current school scenario follows pre-school (nursery), pre-primary (kindergarten) and Class I pattern, with ages fixed at 3, 4 and 5 respectively.

Now picture this: those 3 year olds who could not be admitted to any school last year because they were still a year below the admissible age limit, have this year crossed the age to be admitted into pre-school. So now either they directly join the pre-primary (which means they miss out on the crucial academic foundation laid in nursery), or just accept peer pressure (of being the older one in class) and also losing out on one precious year in the long run.

In the years past, the focus used to be on higher education, but we now seem to be stuck in a rut at the lowest rung. The higher the points scored on the 100-point system, the brighter the chances of admission. These points are allocated mainly on external factors, and have nothing to do with the child’s own caliber. The factors that determine a high score are:

- The education of the parents: So if you are only a graduate, or your family circumstances made you join family business without completing your academics, chances are that your child will have to bear the brunt.

- Residential proximity to the school: So say, you are residing in Vasant Kunj, and are keen to send your son to St. Columba’s in CP, chances are that you will have to try for admission in Vasant Valley instead.

- Sibling connection. Those with a child already studying in the same school get a preference for their second one. It just makes the school feel secure in keeping up with its marketing strategy. So parents with one ward, be prepared!

The point I am trying to make here is that the admission of your own child no longer seems to be a matter of your choice, at least not in the Capital city. On one hand we talk of alternate methods of teaching, widening our mindsets, applaud films like Taare Zameen Par, and then on the other hand we channel ourselves into a number game, a point system structure. This could be the gloomiest form of collective hypocrisy. Today, formal education begins at the age of three, and playschools come into play at two, when then do we give a child his/her space to experiment, to just be.

The recent brouhaha surrounding the Health ministry’s imminent ban on smoking in public places seems slightly misplaced when one thinks of the equally, if not more, suffocating and life threatening chaos of admissions. Puerility is sure not an attribute of the juveniles alone. It is manifest in the corridors of decision makers as well. The think tanks of the future are being choked at their inception, so much so that 2-somethings join playschools, which surely is more about structuring young minds rather than setting them free. The grind, the cut-throat competition was already a norm of the 21st century India, but with the admission bungle it will assume alarming proportions in the time to come.

Poetry: Pensive Without Reason

Samrita Devgan — Mon, 21 Jan 2008 01:04:00 EST

They beg and they plead
To know the kind deed
That makes me smile
Or at times makes me cry.

The 'R' word is on everyone's lips
The reason for a smile,
The reason for a tear,
They might even ask me
"Why do you dream, dear?"

If every mood or act in life
Had a reason to it
Wouldn't we all have been Professors
Arriving at logical conclusions?

But at times the mind simply retreats,
Into the confines of the heart,
Where, to keep its track
Is a wasteful art.

Poetry: See What You Will

Samrita Devgan — Fri, 18 Jan 2008 01:35:36 EST

The darkness in the corner
Attracts my eye;
Why do I feel envious
By the flight of a fly?

I can feel the wind on my face,
I hear the church-bell ring,
Would you embrace the autumn?
Or accompany the spring?

Did you see the black spot?
Or the white sheet where it lay?
Beauty lies with the beholder
As does the light of day.