Thursday, September 29, 2011

A Tribute To Our Diyafites (Re-Edited)

As we grow older, life gets harder. Things aren't as easy anymore...
But when we were younger, life seemed full of complications... That age of insecurity, those lessons in betrayed and all that defined the years that shaped who we were to become ..Things could have gone so very wrong. Today I see students much younger than we were, who are more concerned about appearance, popularity and reputation and I am so grateful for the upbringing I had. 
Sometimes, its not all down to the parents, even though credit goes to them too. Half my day with mum and half my day with a group of special people has made me who I am today.  

Those special ones whoI have to thank for happiness are a few people who made me the person I should be. Some people who were always there for me, and still are. I know today, if I give any one of them a call, anytime of the day...they'll be there to help me.
I remember, that no matter how funny I looked, how stupid I acted, how not popular I was...they never judged me. They made me feel part of the group... and how rare is that nowadays? 
This is my written tribute to those special ones, I grew up with. I will never ever forget the lesson in humility, compassion and friendship they taught me. :
 I remember every single moment I spent.  I remember 2nd Grade, a really tall girl hiding my dolls and inviting me over all the time. In 4th Grade , another girl, with Angelina like lips trying to make me laugh and in 7th Grade, playing basketball with a really pretty Arab/Asian , I remember 9th Grade, meeting a girl who was named after a flower, 10th grade, physics class full of drawings with a loud, hilarious friend. I remember Chemistry Class with a fellow Goan who was more interested in pigeons than experiments. I remember the days before our IGCSE's where none of us came to class to study... but instead just to have crazy fun.

I can’t stop thinking of love affairs between classmates, and  remaking classics like Macbeth, where less work was done and more laughter was found. I often have flashbacks of horribly uncoordinated cricket matches, or getting trashed 26-6 in basketball

I was shy, quiet, and reserved.... till these girls washed all of that away, be it with sarcasm, water fights, beating, or just being lazy, they changed me for life. Some might have broken classroom locker doors or many test-tubes in the chem lab...but the most important lesson we learned, was how to get out of trouble!

Now i realise how easy happiness is to find. I know where it lies, where I truly belong and even in the long run, whether I’m married, single, rich, poor, I know where to find happiness.

Some moments may not have been pleasant (hint : being run over by a dune buggy), and some may not be pain free (Getting whacked in the shin while playing football) but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
There might have been people I didn’t like back then, but as I get on in life, I look back and realise I still love them, no matter what. Now, on meeting people in the "real world" I wonder why I ever hated people in school! They were angels compared to those I know now!

As Christmas nears, I remember carolling at Marriott and as the New Year dawns; I remember all those years that began in class, meeting those people who were special, laughing our way down the corridor.

I remember all those football matches that were supposed to happen, but we ended up sitting on the grass and chatting.

I remember birthdays in school and the demands for chocolates, and the end of year class parties where the tables were overflowing with food, and we finished almost everything out there!

I think of those trips to weird factories and science places and the fun we had even though it was supposed to be terribly boring. Every time I see a school bus I remember those special people, at the back laughing, singing and dancing...sometimes getting bumped in the head when we hit a speed breaker. I remember fighting with kids and getting bullied by juniors!

I cant stop thinking of the French class trip to the Burj Al Arab, where fascination was the key word, and the assignment on the trip was never submitted.

Happiness. It’s undefinable isn’t it? It’s like those birthdays I spent with few special friends, those 4-1 games where we bought the pub down, those tequila shots and bad karaoke nightsSchool concerts, that might have been a drag, those should-have-been-recorded moments like a special someone falling on stage, or a dune buggy doing somersaults maybe even ruining a batch of bbq chicken!

I loved those exhibitions where we painted class walls instead of paper, and those music classes singing Coconuts, a certain blonde and her blonde moments, I miss our animalistic howls and being called the worst class ever. 

We might have been the worst class ever... but we were the best family we could ever have.

I guess some memories are there to stay.
And I guess some friends are what makes life worthwhile.

I miss you guys...
I miss those moments.

~ Michelle 
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Sunday, September 25, 2011

The Boy Who Lived

Privet Drive was where it all began.... I was thirteen when I got on to Hogwarts express and started on a journey that would define my childhood.
As a kid, you do tend to believe in magic, in tooth fairies, in the Easter bunny and in Santa Claus. As a kid, I could believe that Harry Potter did exist. My villain was Voldemort and my best friend was Ron. I fell in love with Cedric Diggory and I hated Cho Chang. I was smart like Hermione, a red head like the Weasleys, forgetful like Neville and vicious like the Malfoys’.
And each year passed, each new book that came out... it grew with me. Harry turned a year old, as did I. From the first day of school, to the first prom...we went through it together.
Today I am 21 and its all come to an end. The day was here when I thought to myself, ‘that is it’. No more Harry Potter, just like that child who realised Santa didn’t exist or the boy who waited for the tooth fairy who never came. Should I break down and cry? Should I question the purpose of my life?
It is now that I realise, J’K Rowling has given me a gift that no one could have ever given me. The gift of childhood. I know, that when I’m 85 and in a wheelchair, I can turn open The Philosophers Stone, and be back on that train to Hogwarts... I can look for Ron and Harry and Hermione besides me. I can feel young again. I know this because at 21, if I open up any of the Harry Potter books. I feel the excitement I felt when I first read them.
I can still feel the nervousness before the Triwizard Tournament, the sadness when Fred died, the tingles when Harry kissed Ginny...I know I can feel the pain at turning to the last page of The Deathly Hallows, that I once felt, all over again... but then I remember. I can go back to the beginning... and just like the Mirror Of Erised I can be exactly where I want to at that moment.

If I ever get a chance to meet J.K Rowling, I would thank her. I would thank her for giving me something to believe in, for giving me something to have faith in... something to relive when times got tough. I would thank her for making my life a lot more exciting than it could have been.
Harry Potter, is a time-turner, the fountain of youth and the potion of happiness all in one. It is the greatest gift anyone could ever ask for.
I know that when my first child is old enough to read, I will gift him/her the first Harry Potter book and tell them, that no matter what... they’re childhood will never leave them behind. No matter what, this is one journey that will never end...
Harry Potter, the boy who lived... would forever live on, whether J.K Rowling continues to write...or not.

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Thursday, September 1, 2011

Mummy's Home

Little Girl, Don’t You Cry.
 Mummy’s Coming Home Tonight.
 He won’t hit you, he won’t try
 He won’t be hurting you all night

Daddy’s going for ever now
 Mummy won’t ever let you down
 She’ll be back tonight from town
 And daddy’s never going to make you frown.

Close your eyes, Mummys home
She won’t ever leave you alone
Daddy now won’t break a bone
He won’t hit you on and on

Mummy’s at the door, its blocked
He goes on till 3’o Clock
She sees him hit her with a rock
Now she can’t make the bleeding stop.

She was supposed to be there
Not let him hurt a single hair
She just watched him with a glare
But never stopped him, she didn’t dare.