Before I move into 2009

Standing on the threshold of 2009, taking one long look at the year that was, I can see it has been a very eventful year, not only personally but also globally. So many ups and downs and so much has happened. I realize now that I have only been looking at the downs all this while when there were in fact so many ups. It has indeed been an eventful year.

In January college started off with the arrival of the NAAC team. There was so much to do in college and I had to help almost every section. But it paid off and no prizes for guessing who got noticed by the members of the NAAC team.

In the same month too did the 3rd years and I share a little secret: the movie outing that I had with some of them along with Reens and Reshmi. Watching Taare Zameen Par with them (actually I was behind them) was an experience in itself. And they certainly enjoyed the movie. I still remember them making fun off Priyanka for getting emotional during the movie. They were aghast when I told them I had an assignment for them but when they realized I only wanted them to see if they could spot other dyslexics in their respective areas they breathed a sigh of relief.

Another very important thing occurred in Jan – I met some of my best friends – Jas & Rash from the SW department. Who realized then that we would transform each other so much? Lins, who was in the same department, needs to be included in this though I must say we have had a rather stage sort of friendship (I always end up fighting with him!).

In February there was college day where I proudly watched my student Dayana win the Best Outgoing Student award (a prize I had always coveted and her winning it seemed to remove some of my disappointment). Equally important was seeing my girls carry off the Best Performance at the Arts Fest and Overall Championship trophies.

In February too was a day that my students and I remember – the day the Star of B.C.M. contest was held. In the contest Priyanka won the 2nd runner-up position. But more important to all of us was the surprise I had prepared for them. When Jove, Chitra and Fathima got on stage to sing a beautiful friendship song from the movie Happy Days, a song that had been specially dedicated to the 3rd years of both the English and Vocational, I guess many memories were created that day.

March to June were the months when Elsa and I settled down to work on the college magazine. I also had to work on the UGC-NET exams, which I successfully managed not to pass again. The magazine eventually did come out well and despite all the criticism and the restrictions we worked under, we did it quite well.

The rest of the year had been a flurry of activities, so much that I don’t even remember the dates.

I joined college in July, post the NET exam. With the SW department’s Samanya Sandhya round the corner, I was busy helping them out with everything I could. The event finally pulled off well. My favourite part was the drama which was damn moving and handled so intricately.
The end of the year saw the drama’s sequel being enacted at the MG University Youth Festival. This drama not only won 3rd place at the festival, despite all the problems they faced, but it also got the best actor award for Jain. I am proud to have been a tiny part of this effort, however insignificant. Jove and Linto were the other 2 actors in the drama and Bibeesh was the assistant director. The 4 of them are obviously my students of MSW – the students I was not lucky enough to teach but who have nevertheless accepted me as a part of them. Meeting them, I felt, has been one of my greatest privileges as they have taught me a lot about life. And their immense potential and talent would make any teacher proud to have known them. God bless this wonderful batch.

And then there is my own batch of students, of whom I am the class teacher. My current 3rd year batch is a mixed bunch. At one end of the class there are the ideal pupils – the studious, every-ready-to-help bunch. And at the other end, the trouble makers, the ones least interested in studies, but the ones I have found to also have hearts of gold. The class has certainly put me on trial and I have done the same to them. But we seem to have managed to pull ourselves out of all the trouble we got into to and I am so proud of them now.

You see, this was the class that everyone gave up on. This was the class that nobody had many expectations about and I’m afraid many still think the same. But they have managed to transform themselves with a little help from me. This is very evident when you think that at the beginning of day 1 of the 2-day Arts Fest, the English department began with zero points & at the end of the day, considering how difficult it is to gain points, we stood at 87! Now they are all set to receive the trophies on college day that nobody thought they would get. I am glad to see that my backbenchers have decided to take on every challenge thrown to them and fought to get every prize at the Arts Fest.

While their academics still seem to be a slight problem for me, I believe they have realized that its time they sit up and start noticing what they have been sent to college to do and I have every hope that they will all assure me a 100% pass this year.

And we have had fun too. There was the tour we did together, the sip-up treat of mine, the inter-collegiate Fiesta, the welcome to the Freedom Walk team, the videos we watched in class, my surprise song for them, the song they dedicated to me at the ganamela, the celebrations and disappointments we shared at various competitions, the talks we heard, the controversies we discussed and the planning we did, the daily msging we continue to share… there was so much to share and learn from each other. And the process continues with much more in store. Having been a part of so many lives has itself been a gift for me.

My 2nd year students have certainly brightened up my life. On teacher’s day they gave me a very cute card that I still carry around in my folder. And the enthusiasm of their class especially in people such as Neethu makes it a joy to be with them. We have been able to watch many videos together. And Sheeba treats me like she would a friend of hers, which makes for an unusual relationship (considering we have much in common). This goes for my relationship with many others like Neethu and Lakshmi. I certainly enjoy being with them and they have been one enthu lot.

This year has also been one where I got to meet a lot of wonderful people. There was first my distant cousin Zach, someone whose existence I had never realized. Meeting him was wonderful, not only because of his intellect, but here was a kindred spirit who would be able to actually understand what I talk about. And I’m grateful for the opportunity.

Then came 2 famous people I was lucky to meet. First was Shashi Tharoor, with whom I literally rubbed shoulders with (thanks to a quick photo session) and thus got my copy of his Riot autographed. Then was the opportunity to listen to and see from afar the famous Abdul Kalam. I also met and spoke to a lesser known writer Nirmala Aravind, who also happily autographed for me. My brief dialogue with Kalki, the famous advocate of transgenders, and one herself, gained her one more fan in me.

Attending the Soorya Festival with the boys and Jas and also Deepak was an experience itself and transported me back to my Chennai days when I would attend performances with friends. I thus watched Lakshmi Gopalaswamy’s Bharatnatyam, fusion music, Odissi, Kathak and the Rajesh Vaidya group’s excellent and perfect fusion, in addition to some wonderful dramatic performances.

This is the year I began this blog and in addition also got published in the newspapers, primarily in kottayamvartha. I have a big collection of all the times the news I gave in got published.
An important achievement was that this year I was able to start the first reading club in Kottayam – Seekers, at B.C.M. Next year I am hoping for reading clubs to spring up. This year too the movie club was inaugurated and hopefully next year we shall have the movie fest.

Again, at college I have started my certificate scheme and that certainly has made a difference to my students.

My infrequent trips to Chennai have proved to me how much I miss my life, and more importantly, my friends there. But then I have made some wonderful friends among my students, some of whom I hope to retain for life.

My boat trip with the SW department was one of the best days of the year, considering it happened at a point in time when I was really feeling low about myself. Not only did it boost my ego, but Jas & I had this beautiful time together on the boat that we will cherish for eternity. Despite the consequences I faced for going on that trip, I really did enjoy myself among the new batch of the MSW.

I find that globally it has been a difficult year: the recession and consequent layoffs worldwide, the Mumbai attacks, the persecution in Orissa, the harassment in the Sister Abhaya case… it has also been a difficult year and I find that people have had to fight against a lot.

But personally this has been a year for me to gain some new fans in varied fields, very often unknowingly. This has also been my year of expanding my vistas from the various programs and seminars I attended. I also got to know who is friend and foe, especially at the workplace. While I was forced to say goodbye to some of my treasured friends, I met some others and got to know some much better than I normally would have done. I got a bunch of students that I cherish. I met some wonderful and inspirational people, even among the students. The B.Com. 2nd year batch have also become my prodigies and I have been able to carry out some wonderful creative teaching with them – memories that all of us will cherish. Nivea, Jency and Archana are almost like my friends despite the restrictions imposed on us. I have come to love teaching – something I once despised. And most importantly I have found out quite a bit about myself and that I think is the best part about 2008.

Happy New Year to all of you. May the coming year be one of wonder, surprise and pure joy for all of us.

Meeting 14 Angels…

When I saw the reader’s digest insert asking readers to talk about the teacher who had made a difference in their life, I immediately knew I had to talk about not one but a bunch of them, or more precisely the English Department at B.C.M. College, Kottayam (Kerala) where I studied for my under graduation.

At its zenith the department consisted of 14 teachers and just walking into that tiny but overflowing department was an experience in itself. Almost all of them have retired now but I seem to have managed to keep in touch with them precisely because of what they did to me. But I need to do flashback here if I need to make myself understood.

My childhood, unlike those of most children my age, was a very quiet one. Living in a flat is the bane of the Gulf emigrant. And not being from a hi-fi family ensured I didn’t have too many activities to worry about. Added to that my shyness ensured I was a very quiet and withdrawn child.

So when I was forced to return to ‘God’s own country’ thanks to the constantly changing immigration rules of my country of residence, I found myself entering college life in my 15th year. At that time, pre-degree (the equivalent of +2) was a college phenomenon. So there I was, an overweight and painfully shy teenager entering the portals of college with the bare minimum command of her mother tongue. In addition, the fact that I was away from my mom whom I was closest to, and the absence of a suitable substitute in the form of a maternal grandma or even a friend, only made me feel terrible, coupled with the fact that this was a move I had never wanted to make in the first place.

On day one, the crammed classroom with 90+ students did nothing to alleviate my feelings of inadequacy, considering the fact that I knew absolutely no one around. But I managed to plead my way into a group who became my friends. Thus my first day of college passed off uneventfully but not too happily.

Day two was the turning point when one of my English teachers walked in. when I was asked to read out a lesson in class she made me feel special when she identified me as once having been her neighbour, thus setting me apart from the rest of the class. It was immaterial that I hardly remembered having been to her home. The fact that I had been singled out made me feel I was maybe somebody after all.

Another highlight came a few days later when in the grammar class, for the instant dictation test we had, I was the only one to get all the spellings right. My teacher then congratulated me and handed me a sweet before proudly announcing that I was the first person in all her years of teaching to get it all right in the very first class itself. That did a lot to boost my ego- something I badly needed.

And not only did I find encouragement in my teachers, they gave me something else I badly needed – recognition for the individual I was: something I had been denied a long time. Eventually I went on to do my under graduation as well at the same college.
In the five years I spent at the institution, I found several mentors and role models as well. When one of my role models brought about the ban on smoking in public, she gained one hell of a secret fan.

I looked forward to the classes of our poetry expert especially since they were filled with inspiring literary thoughts. The head of the department was another person who role modelled in many ways for some awkward teenagers especially in the way she got involved in unusual activities. Her classes too were so inspiring and I would try my best to ensure I was one of those at the end of the year to get chocolates for a full attendance.

My grammar teacher with her down-to-earth attitude changed the concept of the high and mighty teacher. And the teacher who identified me as her neighbour? We found that we had much more in common than just location. I ended up constantly turning to her with my academics-related problems and we found we both had a common streak of idealism that bonded us.

Another teacher I loved shared the same name though a different spelling and we have ended up good friends. I remembered her Literary Criticism classes where we were to give our appreciation of a poem. The first time is the most difficult, as we all know, since never in your life would you have attempted something of this kind. I wrote my own piece and when I heard my teacher’s version, I found it very different from the way I had idealised it. But she read mine and appreciated the real good piece of work I had done. That encouraged me to write more.

After the elections, when I became the magazine editor of the college, no one in the department was surprised. The teacher in charge of handling the college magazine went around with the attitude – Tina’s here so I don’t have to do anything now. And truly that was what happened. I did almost 90% of the work and it did indeed become a masterpiece in its own right. So much that the teacher in charge the next year, and the current head of the department, asked me if I could become the editor again! This teacher is currently one of my main pillars of strength – my friend, advisor and guide.

When I left the college, some of these most beloved teachers left with me. But the change they created in me was immense. Many people who visited me after my first two years in college were astonished to find a gregarious individual in place of the withdrawn one. But that is the external change these 14 women wrought in me.

Internally, they inspired me and let me see visions of a new heaven. They made me realize that I was a very special person, in spite of what people said. They helped me find me.

And it is because of them, that I have returned two years ago to try and fill their oversized shoes as a teacher in the same institution. And whenever my students now tell me I am inspirational and a delight, I think back to the time, a decade ago when a very shy and in confident individual stepped into B.C.M. and was transformed by 14 extremely loving and generous hearts. Thank you my dear teachers.

I know a saint

Today’s blog entry is about a woman I never got a chance to meet. I wish I had been able to meet her more than anything coz’ whenever I go through a difficult period (like right now) I realize that if she had been by my side, things would have been so much easier. Don’t think too far – I’m just thinking about my grandma, my mom’s mom, the woman who died before I had a chance to be born.

My grandma was a very special person. In our times we would have called her a genius, but in her times women were never allowed to study nor do anything progressive. Mom tells me how my grandma received an award from no less than the king of Travancore for excelling in academics. This would be like receiving an award from the president of India, and how often does that happen? But she was forced into marriage with grandpa in her 12th year I believe.

Life with my grandpa was tough coz’ he had had a terrible childhood. And no he wasn’t educated. But grandma was a saint and pulled through. She even got my uncouth grandpa to turn over a new leaf.

My grandma was not only capable of achieving wonders. She was one of the kindest people around. Mom often tells me how while going to church if a beggar on the way asked her for clothes she would take off the ‘kowni’ she was wearing (a dupatta like thing that women used to wear then) and hand it over. Grandma never owned more than 1 sari coz’ every time she got a new one she would hand over the old one to some poor person who came along. Looking at my cupboard stacked to overflowing with clothes I wonder how selfish I can be.

Another thing that grandma used to do was read a lot. In the days of kerosene lamps she would spend the little time she got for herself reading. But the poor lighting had its effects and she ended up with poor eyesight quite early. Eventually people like my mom would have to sit and read to her. I guess her love of reading is one thing that has been passed on to me and my elder brother coz’ we seemed to have raked up quite a collection, so much that there’s no place left to store them now at both our homes!

My grandma was a real beauty queen too. Even when she died in her 63rd year, she had thick hair right up to her knees. And in her younger days, I’m sure if the boys today had seen her, they would have let out quite a few wolf whistles. She was a damn hot babe then! If she hadn’t been so pious, she would have easily landed in trouble.

That’s another thing about grandma. She was one heck of a believer in god. All the reading that I told you she did? Well she read only books on the lives of saints. She read them countless times. No wonder she was so saintly!

And the amount of good advice she passed on to her children was immeasurable. My mom still quotes her once in a while when telling off me or my brothers. But it is quite sensible though. And grandma never screamed or raved. She would put it across quite gently. Never a harsh word would you hear from her. She always told mom that words once dropped from the mouth can never be picked up again, so they should be used very carefully (this is a literal translation).

Every time I hear Mariah Carey’s song “Bye Bye” I realize what a loss it has been that I could never even see my grandma even once. A grandma like her is like Halley’s Comet – they appear only once in a century. Mom was lucky to have had her. Even though I see grandma in mom, I wish she was still around coz there are things only a grandma can do and knowing that she existed makes it harder for me coz she would have been the perfect person to have around especially in my growing years. I wish I could meet her just once so I would know what a saint is like, coz I know she really is up there with the saints. I miss you grandma.

Full Throttle

Intense.

A word that has figured so prominently in my life. I know I’ve talked about this before, but I wanna do it again. It all began with my discovery of the extent of god’s presence in my life, or more precisely with Swapna Chechy’s album Intense. I discovered how intense a presence god can be in your life. Then I heard about living life with all it’s intensity. So that’s what I tried to do, to see if ‘maza aayega.’ Later down the line I realized I had myself in turn become an intense person. And I’m not talking about my habit of philosophizing. I realized after several heartbreaks, that I was one of these people who loved and lived most intensely, so much that some people couldn’t handle it. At least a lot of men couldn’t. I then began to ask myself – am I wrong in doing this?

Then I began teaching. And you guessed it – I taught with intensity (am on my Onam break now if you’re wondering about the past tense). And that’s when I realized a lot of things.

Some people call this intensity passion. When I began teaching I realized that this passion was infectious. My students could understand it and give it back to me to (they still do). I realized that maybe, being an intense person isn’t so bad after all. When I look at the rewards that just one year of teaching have brought into my life, I can’t help thinking – maybe it’s good to be intense after all. How else can you explain the fact that on teacher’s day I got a card from my students stating that they were nuts about me?

Despite the many rejections and heartbreaks I’ve faced, I realize that living life intensely might make all the difference. Maybe that’s what it also means to live life KINGSIZE!

Why Warrior Princess...

Some of you may wonder why I chose the orkut id warrior princess. What connection has this obscure teacher got to do with such a fabulous title? You have heard of warriors, of princesses and even warrior princesses. What have I to do with this? Very simple and yet very complicated. I chose to name myself so coz’ I identify with the concept of a warrior princess. A warrior is someone who is destined to fight, maybe even the whole world. A warrior is a person who has to show courage in the face of fear. A warrior must be able to stand strong and face all challenges whatever the physical or mental condition. Warriors fight for what they believe in. Warriors must continue with their task undaunted, despite the odds. A true warrior will fight to the very end. It is for all these reasons I consider myself warrior. And now how do fight? With life itself, for I have found I very often have to fight tooth and nail, in my own quiet way of course, to get through something, and at the end, people realize that yes, Tina was right all along. If only they had listened earlier!

And princess? Me? Well in my own rights I am, considering I am the only girl child in the Mullasseril clan. That makes me the family princess. I am a princess not because I hold an exalted position, one that I have never had, but because a princess must hold her calm in a storm and must appear to be all ease and grace despite the terror within her. Nobody I know has been able to identify when I sink into depression. I have maintained the calm. Most people don’t realize I was a shy, withdrawn child. A princess never brings forth the past. A true princess stands up to face danger and protect her people. She is willing to be the sacrificial goat to save her land and her people. I have lost track of the countless times I have become the scapegoat for someone else.

A warrior princess, despite setbacks, continue to move forth on her steed, ready to face dangers, ready to fight the world if she has to, and ready to face the final confrontation with death. I am a warrior princess in my own right, whatever you say or don’t.

Tina speaks again

the Leo speaks about herself again…. Yes I’m probably being egoistic again… as I sit listening to Stephen Devassy I realize how complex I can really be – any individual for that matter. And also how intense. While I continue to be single, I realize that one of the reasons is coz’ people cannot handle my intensity in living life. Not even other Leos. That’s the problem with being a cusp of Cancer and Leo. You end up having so much from both sides that it gets too hot to handle.

People often know me as the cheerful and bright person that I present to be. The one who always tries to see life from the fun side. But that’s not all there is to me. The real Tina sees life from a very different perspective. In solitude, very distant from this world, I have often found myself. It isn’t easy being alone, as all of us know. It is even worse when you know that hardly anyone will ever understand you no matter how transparent you may be to yourself.

Next time you envy a Cancer-Leo cusp, stop for a moment and empathise with this lot that never can show their real selves to the world. Living life intensely is not easy at all. Trust me on this one. I know how difficult it can be seeing all the Shallow Hals around you. I have to meet some of them everyday. I cannot imagine spending all my life talking only about the latest clothes and what Marykutty said to her ‘pharthav’(translation: hubby) or why Sinsimol and Bincymol fell from their respective pedestals. Ah-ah. Not me. I’d rather dig ditches. I do like fashion. I do like to listen to interesting titbits (translated gossip). But that’s just about 3% of what your life is to be used for. There’s another 97% left that can be used for a purpose and higher thinking.

Life is beautiful. There’s so much that can be done with it. Like helping people out, creating differences, spreading sunshine. Shallow Hals and Hallowinas. Get a life coz’ life is really, and I mean really, short. It’s here today, gone tomorrow.

If you can’t join us Cancer-Leo cusps, at least do something worthwhile, something you can tell your grandchildren about.

India Incorporated

Indians all over the world are celebrating Independence Day with parties, bashes, meetings and what not. India celebrates her 61st year. And there is so much to celebrate. We are still a thriving economy despite all our setbacks. Our labour power is one of the most sought after in the world because we come skilled and cheap. We are making huge strides in terms of progress and development. The world has taken notice of this once poor country that is now making waves everywhere. We have won our first individual gold at the Olympics. We are to soon become a major nuclear power. Yes we must celebrate and I have begun to celebrate the Indian.

And yet, as I sat watching the Independence Day celebrations in college yesterday, a tiny bell rang in my mind that made me sit down and think today, the 15th of August, if we had really achieved what the forefathers of independent India dreamed about.

Is this the country that countless gave their lives for? Is this the India they envisioned? Is this the land of their dreams, the Promised Land? When Abdul Kalam extorts the youth to do better – is this really the country they are being asked to protect? Is this India shining?
Can this be the India our leaders envisaged: an India where blood still streams in the name of caste? An India where people shed lives so others may line pockets? Is this the country of our dreams? Can this be India shining?

Is this really the secular land of India where people are equal? But where they are equalised by being stripped of even the little they have? Where millionaires top the world’s statistics but where poverty continues to live among teeming millions? Can this certainly be the India envisaged by Chacha Nehru for the children- an India where statistics prove more than half of the children are sexually abused? Is this India shining?

Looking back and forward, I’m not certain if we should be really celebrating. Yes we have made strides, but not really big ones. There is much to despair of. We have yet to eliminate poverty and hunger. We have yet to become fully literate with just over half of the population having seen the portals of schools. We have certainly got a humongous challenge when it comes to the problem of corruption that has become a part of our daily lives. Abuse in all forms is alarmingly large. Disease is rampant and AIDS has got health officials concerned about the huge numbers succumbing. Violence and terrorism are part of our daily lives: today me, tomorrow you.

When I think back to the blood shed to get us to where we are today, frankly I’m ashamed to say I came of such great stock. What am I supposed to be proud of here? When I look at the happening generation of today, I can see far and wide a people plagued by mental and physical disease, a people enthusiastic about weekly and even daily booze parties, a people believing in the wonder of live-in lifestyles, a people eager to ape the brutalities and crimes of its western counterpart.

The Indian scenario, I’m sorry to say, holds very little to inspire. Thinking back to one of my favourite quotes etched on the Kohima War Memorial:
“ When you go home,/Tell them of us and say,/For theirs tomorrow,/We gave our today. ”

I salute the brave women and men who died for this country that I now live in. I realize this is not the land of your dreams, the land you believed in as you died. But as I reflect some more I can tell you this. This is the land of the likes of Abdul Kalam, A.R. Rahman, Rang De Basanti, Abhinav Binda, Manmohan Singh and Kiran Bedi. We may not be what you wanted us to be. But we are certainly not sitting back in comfortable armchairs, not all of us. To our mentors I say, we are not what you asked for, but we are what you got. We may not be the best, but we are certainly not the worst. We may slip and slide along the way but our destination is certain and we will make it there. To those who have laid down your lives for us, we are not yet there, but when we do get there, you will have reasons to smile and be proud because whatever we may be, we are still yours, we are still India.

Despite everything, still proud to be Indian.

Vande Mataram

Kargil Vijay Diwas is celebrated on July 26th

IF YOU WORSHIP YOUR BOLLYWOOD STAR OR YOUR CRICKETING IDOL….. THINK AGAIN… THERE ARE OTHER PEOPLE WHO DESERVE IT MUCH MORE THAN THEM……. READ THIS MAIL FULLY…. ESPECIALLY THE LETTER WRITTEN BY ONE OF THE JAWAANS TO HIS FAMILY
…. SALUTE THEM FOR ALL THEIR SACRIFICE ….
READ THE LETTER BELOW…………….. WE RECAPTURED OUR LAST HILL FROM PAKISTAN BUT WE LOST OUR MOST VALUABLE, GREAT WARRIORS, BRAVE BROTHERS .TODAY IT'S TIME TO REMEMBER THEM

Capt.Vijayant Thapar (Robin): He Laid down for OUR BETTER TOMORROW At the age of only 22
His Last Letter to his parents -

AND AFTER THAT
HE CAME BACK HOME WITH TRI COLOR DRAPED
Jawans from the 2nd Rajputana Rifles, remember their 23 comrades who fell in the decisive battle for the Tololing Top. The battalion earned four Maha Vir Chakras, one of India 's highest medals for gallantry, three of them being awarded posthumously.

JAIHIND!!!!
[Courtesy: email forward from Manjesh Kumar ]

A STUMP FOR A TAIL

You can't buy loyalty, they say
I bought it though, the other day; You can't buy friendship, tried and true,
Well just the same, I bought that too .I made my bid, and on the spot
Bought love and faith and a whole job lot Of happiness, so all in all
The purchase price was pretty small .I bought a single trusting heart,
That gave devotion from the start.
If you think these things are not for sale,
Buy a brown-eyed puppy with a stump for a tail.
-author unknown

[courtesy: http://mrmom.amaonline.com/Inspirational.htm]

Prayer Power

U just mite ask y I’m talkin abt d pwr f prayer. Its after all a much xplored topic. N evry1’s already talkd abt it. But I’m doin it cz I can c its effects evry passin day.
Take 4 e.g. d case f my fren hu needed 2 switch jobs n wasn’t sure wt 2 do. He likd d job he had but it wasn’t payin enuf. D new 1 ws a diffren kind al2gether n highly risky considerin d fact dat he was facin a lotta problems even b4 he began d job. He askd me 2 pray 4 him, n every1 else as well. No prizes 4 guessin wt happnd – he’s happily settled in his new job.
Consider my case. As a lot f ppl know, I’m yet 2b done wid my m.phil degree cz f a lot f complications. No I haven’t completed it yet, doh I’m on my way der. But here’s wt happnd. I cudn’t submit my dissertation in June cz I hadn’t paid my fees, smthin I had absolutely no knowledge abt. So @ d end f June I need 2 pay up, wid no possibility f travellin all d way 2 chennai 2 accomplish d job. D only person hu cud help me in d college wr I hv 2 get d job done is sorta jinxed n cud possibly mess things up (its already messed up way 2 far). In desperation, I msg 1 f my best frens n a former student, realizin ders no way she cud help me - being cooped up @ home. But 2 days later, voila! She rings me up 2 tell me she’ll go check out wt needs 2b done. D damn ppl make her go der 4 abt 3-5 days. But she finally manages 2 pay d fees, inspite f all d complications involved in dis simple procedure (trust me life can b’cm a livin hell wn least requird). U can bet I was on my knees (literally) wn my fren ws tryin 2 get things done @ college. U can’t even begin 2 imagine d relief I felt knwin d thing ws finally done.
Wt I’m sayin boils down 2 dis – prayer is essential 2 move 4ward n run d obstacle course called life. N here’s a lil’ smthin 4m Helen Steiner Rice:

For games can’t be won unless they are played,
And PRAYERS can’t be ANSWERED unless they are PRAYED…
So whatever is wrong with your life today,
You’ll find a solution if you kneel down and pray

I love teaching

Wonder if you ever wondered why good teachers are always so happy and young? I used to wonder and I discovered its secret a long time ago… when I was doing under graduation, to be precise. The big secret to their vitality is the fact that they are always around young people. Yes, it’s the youth that they deal with that keeps them so uppity.
I didn’t really believe that till I became a teacher myself. My students can really perk me up. Why sometimes just thinking about them makes me happy.
Met one of my favourite teachers soon after I began my new career and when I shared my thoughts with her she was telling me, that teaching was the most rewarding career. I couldn’t help nodding in agreement coz I was seeing it in front of my eyes everyday.
If you still can’t figure it out, just walk into a class as a teacher one day when your at your gloomy worst – the morning greetings that are smiled out to you, the concern they show if you tell them something’s wrong (like when I told my girls that I was going to miss one of my good friends leaving the college), their eagerness to please you… trust me I can’t be wrong on this one.

A diagnosis of my past life

I do not know how you feel about it, but you were male in your last earthly incarnation.You were born somewhere around territory of modern Tibet approximately on 850.Your profession was seaman, cook, carpenter.
Your brief psychological profile in that past life:Bohemian personality, mysterious, highly gifted, capable to understand ancient books. Magician abilities, could be a servant of dark forces.
Lesson, that your last past life brought to present:The timid, lonely and self-confident people are everywhere, and your problem -- to overcome these tendencies in yourself and then to help other people.

English? It's wierd

English can be funny, PLEASE ENJOY THE FOLLOWING

Spotted in a toilet of a London office:
TOILET OUT OF ORDER. PLEASE USE FLOOR BELOW

In a London Laundromat:
AUTOMATIC WASHING MACHINES: PLEASE REMOVE ALL YOUR CLOTHES WHEN THE LIGHT GOES OUT

In a London department store:
BARGAIN BASEMENT UPSTAIRS

In an London office:
AFTER TEA BREAK STAFF SHOULD EMPTY THE TEAPOT AND STAND UPSIDE DOWN ON THE DRAINING BOARD

Outside a London secondhand shop:
WE EXCHANGE ANYTHING - BICYCLES, WASHING MACHINES, ETC. WHY NOT BRING YOUR WIFE ALONG AND GET A WONDERFUL BARGAIN?

Notice in London health food shop window:
CLOSED DUE TO ILLNESS

Spotted in a safari park:
ELEPHANTS PLEASE STAY IN YOUR CAR

Seen during a London conference:
FOR ANYONE WHO HAS CHILDREN AND DOESN'T KNOW IT, THERE IS A DAY CARE ON THE FIRST FLOOR

Notice in a field:
THE FARMER ALLOWS WALKERS TO CROSS THE FIELD FOR FREE, BUT THE BULL CHARGES

Message on a leaflet:
IF YOU CANNOT READ, THIS LEAFLET WILL TELL YOU HOW TO GET LESSONS

On a repair shop door:
WE CAN REPAIR ANYTHING. (PLEASE KNOCK HARD ON THE DOOR THE BELL DOESN'T WORK)

People in other countries sometimes go out of their way to communicate with their English-speaking tourists. Here is a list of signs seen around the world.

At a Budapest zoo:
PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS. IF YOU HAVE ANY SUITABLE FOOD, GIVE IT TO THE GUARD ON DUTY.

Doctors office, Rome:
SPECIALIST IN WOMEN AND OTHER DISEASES.

Hotel, Acapulco:
THE MANAGER HAS PERSONALLY PASSED ALL THE WATER SERVED HERE.

In a Nairobi restaurant:
CUSTOMERS WHO FIND OUR WAITRESSES RUDE SHOULD WAIT AND SEE THE MANAGER.

In a City restaurant:
OPEN SEVEN DAYS A WEEK, AND WEEKENDS TOO

Shaw &I (Publd. - bcm college mag. 2008)

What has a lecturer in English in an obscure corner of the world, have to do with Shaw you would wonder – besides the fact that she just might be lecturing on him (and as my students know I don’t do that either). How did this obscure teacher find herself connected to one of the greatest playwrights of all time? Patience, my friends, is the greatest virtue and I ask you, reader, to practice it, as we go about this arduous task of determining this historical link between Shaw and I – a link I hope and pray will ensure my greatness among the coming generations.
First and foremost I would like to congratulate my parents for ensuring I was born on Shaw’s birthday with much proximity in terms of the year as well, thus entitling me to my fame to claim and vice versa. It is my proud honour to explain to u friends, that the great Shaw was born on the day I made history (at least in my personal world) – 26 of July. What difference do a few decades make? It is irrelevant that he was born in 1886 and I in 1981. It is the common denominator of the digits – that matters. Numerology counts too you know, if you want to be great. Wasn’t Shaw a lucky man to be born the day I was born! May the date remain blessed throughout history.
Shaw has been referred to as “the most important English playwright since Shakespeare.” Since I haven’t proved myself as a playwright, the title is yet to be bestowed on me. Shaw’s first play was written in his 20th year in 1885. I certainly proved better and did the same at 19 (though what happened to my playwriting career after that is an equal mystery to me as well).
Our early lives have much in common. Like me, Shaw came from a family of five: he had two sisters, and I, two brothers. When he was 16, his family moved to London without his father. In my case, it was the mother, and we moved to Kottayam, not London. Shaw descended from landed Irish gentry and had a wide knowledge of music, art, and literature as a result of his mother's influence. My family has had no Irish blood in it, except for my sister-in-law, and neither have we been traditionally landed gentry, being the administrative kind. But like Shaw, it was my mother who introduced me to the world of learning and music. The similarity ends there. Young Shaw or “Sonny” as he was called at home was an emotionally neglected boy, the outcast among the children of the family, never able to obtain even the slightest approval from his own mother. His knowledge of music was self-taught and his eventual emergence as one of the greatest music critics in the language not only shows his determination, but also in a way his revenge against his family’s scorn.
A tiff with the fourth estate is part of any writer’s career. In our case, it was at the beginning. Tina’s writing career included a stint with journalism (i.e. I studied it), and so did Shaw’s. Shaw worked as a drama critic for the Star newspaper and Saturday Review magazine before becoming established as a playwright. He used the pseudonyms "GBS" and "Corno di Bassetto" (basset horn) as a columnist. Not only do we both have three initials (mine are TAJ), he at 6.2”, and me at 5.8,” cut imposing figures in our very statures - quite enough to command respect even when unwarranted.
Brilliant as a critic, Shaw could regard himself and his own performances with complete detachment. Feeling his plays were incompetently criticized, he used his critical abilities, to inform his readers exactly how good and how bad his plays really were. This in turn acquired him a reputation for vainglory. But one must realize that very few playwrights can claim to possess this unique quality of detachedly criticising their own works, not even the great I.
Shaw’s first venture into the writing arena, with no capital and the tiniest of incomes, was with his five novels, none of which were ever published in his lifetime. Thankfully I have neither the patience nor the interest to write novels. Shaw’s experiments have certainly helped me save my literary career from becoming a disaster. But like Shaw, who in his 20s suffered continuous frustration and poverty, I too have had to come to terms with my early share of disappointments, and wrestling with various forces.
As a young social reformer, Shaw hated cruelty and oppression and pleaded for freedom. He idealized the rebel and until he was about thirty. Shaw called himself an atheist – something I experimented with for a short while in my heydays till I returned to my original religion. But not Shaw. In the 1890s, Shaw renounced atheism and repackaged himself as a mystic.
Shaw, like me, being a victim of chronic migraines, turned to vegetarianism at 25 as a hopeful cure. I followed suit at 24 but for different reasons. Shaw was later a strong advocate of this dietary style and also became an anti-vivisectionist. In addition, he adopted my healthy practice of being a teetotaller, ensuring his long life.
A freethinker, Shaw believed that “life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.” And he set about doing the same by turning his literary genius to playwriting (which I have yet to perfect). His first published play was Widowers’ Houses (1885), in collaboration with critic William Archer and was a commercial failure. Shaw would later call it one of his worst works, but he had found his medium. Shaw had already begun experimenting with drama from his early twenties. His strength lay in dialogue. His first successful play was Candida published and performed in 1898.
Shaw’s aim, when he turned to writing plays, was to replace the hack melodramas and farces that made up contemporary British theatrical fare with a new theatre of ideas. His theatre of ideas was his greatest invention and achievement. In the process he also created a new genre, the serious farce, which consisted of using the techniques of comedy to advance serious views on humanity, society, and political systems. His seriousness accounts for his brilliance. He is ready for everything and everybody because he has seriously considered everything and seriously regarded everybody. Shaw can extemporize on most subjects because he has seriously thought about them.
Shaw liked to classify his works into two categories: “Plays Pleasant” and “Plays Unpleasant”. “Plays Unpleasant” include Widowers’ Houses and Mrs. Warren’s Profession. Mrs. Warren’s Profession (1893), since it dealt openly with prostitution, was refused a license by the Censor of Plays. The play was not performed in Britain until 1925 but it set the tone for subsequent Shavian drama and established the distinctive Shavian style. It also established Shaw’s characteristic position of externalizing evil into a general, social guilt.
The biting tone of Shaw’s first plays had brought him attention but hardly popularity. This accounted for his transition to his “Plays Pleasant,” which included Arms and the Man (1894), Candida (1894), The Man of Destiny (1895), and You Never Can Tell (1896). Early on in his career, Shaw decided to publish his plays in book form, and added lengthy prefaces, replacing traditional stage directions with discursive narrative. Thus he created an entirely new and still unimitated genre - part play, part essay, part oratory.
Phew! Try competing with that! And to top it all he went on to win the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1925 for Saint Joan. The extraordinary fact is that Shaw is the only person to have ever won both the Nobel Prize and an Academy Award. He won an Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay for his immensely popular Pygmalion in 1938. You and I would probably be familiar with its Audrey Hepburn version – My Fair Lady. Keeping with his extraordinary nature, Shaw refused the £7000 from his Nobel Prize, commenting that “the money is a lifebelt thrown to a swimmer who has already reached the shore in safety.” At his behest, the money was given to the Anglo-Swedish Literary Alliance. That’s Shaw for you.
If your head is still whirling with facts about Shaw, I’m not done yet. There’s more to Shaw than you can imagine. Being an ardent socialist, Shaw became a founding member of the Fabian Society in 1884, along with Beatrice and Sidney Webb, who would become his closest friends. The society was a middle class organization established in 1884 to promote the gradual spread of socialism by peaceful means. In the course of his political activities he met Charlotte Payne-Townshend, an Irish heiress and fellow Fabian, and they married in 1898. By 1911 the Fabian Society had, in Beatrice Webb’s words, reached a crisis “not of dissent, but of indifference,” and Shaw, along with Bland and three others, resigned from the executive committee. But Shaw always remained an active member.
Obviously such an astonishing writer would not be excluded from the political arena. Shaw was quite well known as a public speaker, capable of holding an audience in thrall for two hours at a time, fascinating listeners with his outrageous rhetoric, his flaming beard, and his face that one friend likened to “an unskillfully-poached egg.” He had also ventured into political writing. Though he always refused to stand for Parliament, he was elected to the Vestry Committee of St. Pancras, holding the seat for six years.
With the onset of World War I, Shaw laid out his strong objections in “Common Sense about the War” (1914). His stance ran counter to public sentiment and cost him dearly at the box-office, but he never compromised. Shaw got the reputation for being pro-German. During the last two years of the war it had become evident that Shaw was speaking sense rather than treason. He regained his popularity. Revivals of his plays were produced all over Europe, and his new plays were now received with intense interest.
It was in his nature to propound his philosophy of the life force. In his writings he expounded on the life force - a mysterious power, immanent in living matter, that supposedly drove evolution. Every species had been an instrument of the life force’s effort to acquire power, knowledge and understanding. Through trial and error, at an extremely slow pace, it inched its way upward. In its attempt to achieve fruition, the life force would create ever-higher forms of humanity - supermen, super-supermen, supermen to the third power. Shaw’s motive for believing in the life force was more emotional than intellectual. The conviction that virtue and wisdom will ultimately vanquish wickedness and ignorance justified his humanitarian zeal.
After the death of his wife in 1943, Shaw was physically frail but still mentally active. In his last letter to Sidney Webb, who was himself aged eighty-nine, he wrote, “I hope we have been a pair of decent useful chaps as men go; but we have had too short a lifetime to qualify for real high politics.” Shaw died on November 2, 1950, at the age of ninety-four from injuries received after falling from a ladder while he was trimming a tree on his estate. “I believe in life everlasting; but not for the individual,” he had said the week before. His last words were, “Sister, you're trying to keep me alive as an old curiosity, but I'm done, I'm finished, I'm going to die.” His ashes, mixed with those of his wife, were scattered along footpaths and around the statue of Saint Joan in their garden.
The Shaw known to the public and the extremely private gentleman he was, were as similar as chalk and cheese. Despite being known as a vigorous controversialist and acquiring the reputation of being a great humorist, Shaw has explained that his attitude was a mere stratagem: he had to fool people into laughing so they should not hit upon the idea of hanging him. Here again we start sharing similarities. Like two sides of a coin, Tina and Shaw exhibit two different and contrasting personalities.
Shaw exhibited spiritual freedom, honesty, courage, and clearness of thought not only in his writing, but also in speech. Sample the Shavian wit: “He who can, does. He who cannot, teaches;” “I often quote myself, it adds spice to my conversation;” and “We learn from experience that men never learn anything from experience.”
So why exactly are people still praising this weirdo? Because his genius is not from anything new he has to say, but because he has a passionate and a personal way of saying it. It is his novelty that endures. “I never knew what a vivid personality meant until I met Shaw,” said the actress Lillah McCarthy. “He, of all men, is most alive; not only on grand occasions but all the time.” Shaw’s output is tremendous: he wrote sixty-three plays and his output as novelist, critic, pamphleteer, essayist and private correspondent was prodigious. He is known to have written more than 250,000 letters. His popularity is evident from the fact that his picture appears on the cover of the Beatles' album Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.
A philosopher, defender of women's rights and a preacher of equality, like me, Shaw wanted to hand to future generations the torch of life. Said Shaw, “I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community, and as long as I live it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can.” And that he proceeded to do.
So what if he’s dead and gone? His books are still there - his legacy. And then there’s his very eminent successor – me, for after all, my name is There Is No Alternative.

College welcomes my return

I'm back @ college from dis day forth. Back to work, drudgery, lesson planning, figuring out how to teach ... But also back to youth, fun n yes flirting (despite d fact dat i'm in a women's college n i ain't a lesbian). Me feedback session in the first class of the year wasn't what i expected. But o well dats wt feedback's for. My only problem is ppl want me to teach in Malayalam n dat as my friends know is an almost impossible task for me since I live in English. But o well! Life is this way. Meanwhile I hope all the activitiea I have planned out work. Wish me luck ppl!

it's over

They finally left. We r left with an empty base (the kennel went along with them- the base of it was left behind) n hearts. I'm trying to finish with my NET exam so I can get back to work on July 1.

Corbu n Kannan are taking their time to leave - their owner ain't ready for them yet

Corbu the labrador and Kannan the daschund are leaving us to return to their original owner - dad' s brother-in-law.

If I Were A Man! (My most famous poem)

To be a man, first of all, I would not desire
For it’s the woman after all, who sets the world on fire.
But if I were to be a man, what would I do?
Obviously much more than make a hullabaloo.

I’d stop complaining about the men in power,
And start aiming at the bottom of the political tower.
Instead of forever harping about my wife,
I’d find solutions to end the long strife.

Other couch potatoes would have lazed in front of the telly,
But I, I would have helped with the supper and jelly.
The garbage bin would be cleared without a frown,
My perfectly arranged shelves - surely nagging it would drown.

The children would find their father briskly ironing his pants,
With an eye on the cricket stadium packed with fans.
At night I’d take turns to tell stories galore,
Of knights and princesses and wizards of yore.

At work you’d find me sympathising with a worker,
Whose life story is a sure tear jerker.
You’d find me at the desk from nine to five,
Not constantly at the coffee machine, like bees to a hive.

From the office secretary you’d definitely not hear
How I made a pass with an unmistakeable leer;
And you’d have heard the boss commend me the other day
For handling a tough problem in the best possible way.

At the Jones’ party I might have had a drink
But surely you wouldn’t have found me on fours, quite pink.
The Shahs next door give us some home grown lime,
Because I cut the hedge promptly, in time.

But such dreams are meant for only those in heaven,
Because men I know, will never be like women!

- Tina Jose

An Old Friend

How do you usually react when an old friend comes visiting unexpectedly? Do you feel out of this world? Ecstatic? Overjoyed? Out of words or breathe? And what do you do next? Welcome your friend with open arms? Maybe a hug? Sometimes with blasphemous words for having disappeared for so long, but definitely joyously? And then what next? Do you sit and have verbal exchanges over what you’ve done with your lives? Talk about old times and mutual friends, and enjoy the nostalgia? Swap pictures of families and that drooling baby or b.f. whichever it may be? Maybe a cup of coffee or dinner? And finally? You part ways again? Promising to keep in touch, whether it happens or not?

You might agree with at least some of these responses. But let me tell you, none of this is what I did when an old friend came visiting me. We had parted ways for sometime, especially after I left for Chennai and been so out of sync that neither knew what happened to the other. And then all of a sudden he turns up at my doorstep in Kottayam (I shall call the person he irrespective of gender, as the male sex has often ended up being a pain in the neck for me).

This happened last Sunday evening. I was busy with my dogs when he suddenly showed up. You can imagine mine and everyone’s surprise. But unfortunately I felt no joy. Rather it was with deep hatred that I eyed him. How could the wretched creature have dared to come back after all the pain he had caused me? How could he have actually thought I would be glad to meet him? And that too after the wounds he had caused, had just begun to heal.

I was completely distressed. I know you must be wondering what in the world could this person have done to upset me so much. After all nobody would meet an acquaintance this way. But I had literally cursed him.

And he had decided to stay with me for a couple of days. You should have seen me on the third day - begging God and every saint I knew to help me throw him out. My dear readers will have begun to wonder what on earth could my friend have done. Was he a murderer? A thief? A lover who dumped me? What?

Dear reader, he was all this and more. He murdered my happiness. He stole my peace of mind. He filled my heart with hatred for him and a desire for vengeance that I have sadly never been able to carry out. How much more would I have loved him if he had not given so much of pain – and that too at all three levels: physical, spiritual and mental.

Who is this fiend you ask who has ruined my whole being? Why nobody else but a sprained knee that has decided to plague me for sometime.

About Me

I thought this first posting should tell you a little about me. Orkut users will find a lot about me in my profile. I often go by the name Tina- the acronym for There Is No Alternative: basically because a) it’s my real name and b) it implies what it means- there’s no alternative to me. There’s only one me. TINA works as a guest lecturer in her obscure town of Kottayam at the college of her under graduation- B.C.M. College for Women. In the English department where I work (and manage to create quite a ruckus) with a shoestring budget we attempt to create vistas into the world of literature to undergraduate students. The astounding number of unsuccessful attempts only proves that were it not for the likes of Shakespeare, the likes of me would be jobless. For me it’s the English student’s nightmare – literary criticism – that provides unemployment.

As a non-entity on this earth – very little can be said about my other aspects. Physically I cut an imposing figure- a round one. Academically I’m one of those almost-made--it ones who never did. With an M.Phil. degree yet to be under my belt, I have set out on this journey into the world of literature. Yet to publish my writing, I’ve contributed to miscellaneous magazines and journals. Hopefully this blog will turn out more successful than my other writing ventures left half-done. Sample my earlier writing at www.geocities.com/tinaannrebecca.

Family: parents I never stop fighting with, an icon of an elder brother, the sweetest sis-in-law and a pet cum devil of a younger brother.
Extended family: 8 dogs, 2 cats, pair of geese, a myna, and several hens and flying ducks.

Philosophy: There is more to life than you or I know. Celebrate the gift of life coz we have very short ones.