Dear Schools, We Hate to Tell You This, But We Hate You.

When someone asked me about my school life,  I started talking about my friends and all the fun we had as kids. But then I took up a metaphorical looking glass and sat down to really analyse my school life. Now I know I should've asked: " You mean how does it feel like to spend 14 years of my life thinking I was not good enough?" I had always been the average kid. It would be easier for you to see my name on the rank list if you started from the bottom. And I'm pretty sure no teacher is going to remember me ten years hence, because to my school I was that average kid. That kid with the B grade on her papers. As students, we were conditioned to believe that the only way we could better ourselves was to score better, to get a better label. To jump from that C or D to an A and A+. We were stamped like lambs in a slaughter house made to believe that passing exams and with 'flying colours' will always be our finest achievements. What was worse was that teachers felt an immediate affection to kids with horrific personalities if they scored good. As if the marks made their personalities slightly better.Our schools have us buying horizontal books for Math Class when holding up books with vertical lines as they carefully calculate our CGPAs and place us thusly on this ridiculous line.

When you are up on a ladder you have to look down. Toppers: People at the top look down. ( Should I even start with the superiority complexes kids develop at a young age? Spice that up with the other half with inferiority complex and voila, here you have a nice mixture of grown ups with egos and complexes ) Anyway, through out my whole school life, I grew up believing that I'm not enough and that I'll never be. I was an average little girl who aspired to be someone great. But how could I when I was supposedly far down the rungs?How could I when I was made to believe that my progress report was everything? That it was the only accurate measure to who I really was.

This is not just a rant, I have to say. Every grown up out there will say this. Why do we love our schools but yet when we say love we are only associating it with friends and fun and not education? This fascistic regime have our basic instincts honed  in a way that it hates studying.

Why is it that we know the names and capitals of various countries and yet we have a hard time pointing them out on the globe? Why is it that most of our lessons are words and sentences and paragraphs put together. Why do our systems ask us to keep updated with chapters and theories that are way outdated. Why don't we study anything worthwhile? Why do we forget them the minute after the exam? Because we were studying for the exam and not for life. Isn't that sad? This is to our screwed up educational system trying to make everyone alike. Be like Mary. Be like Raj. We are robbed of our opportunities to be ourselves. This is going to be just another article amidst a million others on the same topic. I doubt if this system will ever change. But we can make things better for ourselves.

Dear Parents and Teachers, let's stop putting ridiculous amounts of pressure on our kids. Make them understand that they are beyond labels. All it takes for you is to tilt that vertical line. Now you see they are all the same. Printed report cards are senseless means to measure kids about whom you can write  books.

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The Nostalgia Scientists We Happen To Be.

Do we ever realize that in capturing a moment in its rawest form, we are sending messages for the future? And we click without even realizing that we are nostalgia scientists creating a time capsule. Pictures, for the future. Pictures from a distant memory to another. A memory from an old wrinkled dress, a wretched staircase, a confused kid near a motorbike. And the fresh prints have to grow old with you to be meaningful. You add more experiences and memories to your photo until finally you find them amidst the frizzy, crumpled papers of an old book, underneath the shelves of an ancient wardrobe, from the secret albums your grandma held close. Sad, but relieved to be found. And honestly, the excitement of discovering an old photo is something so special. Their blotched ink speaks, their torn corners and vintage look sings.

And that's when I realized some things come alive when they are almost invisible.

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Walking On The World Map

I want to drink hot coffee and dance
in London

And plant an Indian flower in Paris
just to call it an immigrant

I want to talk like a native in the
moors of Italy

And have my palette tickled with
Cheese and Balsamic vinegar

I want to traverse the whole of
Vatican with just my feet

And find love beside the walls of the
Acropolis

Then I want to rush to Rio and
redeem myself at Christ's feet.

Soon you shall see me reading
African poetry at Ghana

Then I shall revel in my anonymity
in Shanghai

And search for lavender at the
shores of Japan

Now I'll camp beneath the northern sky
and watch the stars fall and rise

There's a lot more to be seen.

Lot more memories untapped for now.

But now allow me to tie my
shoelaces as I sit on top of this
suitcase waiting for my flight.

                         - Paavana Varma

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Road Trips That Are Good For The Soul- Trivandrum to Kanyakumari

On a crisp and cold 4am of a chirpy Onam morning, we decided to celebrate our nth sunrise at the tip of peninsular India. To stand back and glance at our wide -spread beautiful motherland. Now, I'd like to correct him/her who said, nothing good ever happens after 2am. Maybe nothing 'good' happens, but we don't settle for good, do we? We need better, we need the best. And that is exactly why, on a crisp and cold 4am of a chirpy Onam morning in Kerala preparing itself for rumbustious laughter,grand feasts, and colorful homes we decided to start early. We chased  the sun to Kanyakumari otherwise known as Cape Comorin, the edge of our motherland, where  the Bay of Bengal, Arabian Sea, and the Indian Ocean meet. All it took was a full tank of diesel, five excited humans, and some real good music. 

People in general I feel, hold a misconception that travelling is all about the long distances you cover. It is most often associated with the very long traces you leave on a map. The oceans you crossed. While that can be fascinating, we have to learn to measure our escapades with memories and smiles. We should realize that travelling is about the journey more than being about the destination. And that is exactly what happened in this journey of ours. A 90 km short trip from Trivandrum to Kanyakumari. And as we started early it was quite magnificent to see the sky change colors as we rode away. To see any city's beauty at its peak , see it in its rawest forms. No hustle, no bustle just your car, the reflectors and some brightly lit food joints and small shops. There's not much to speak of  from Trivandrum to Parassala. Maybe we're a bit too used to it all. There was no shortage of fun, albeit. As my brother drove , the rest of us sang along to the music that surprised us every four minutes. The lyrics didn't matter, we had our la-la-la's and na-na-na's perfectly in sync with the tune.

Trivandrum-Karamana -Pappanamcode-Nemom-Vedivechankovil-Balaramapuram-Neyyatinkara-Parassala-Kuzhithurai-Marthandam-Thuckalay-Nagercoil-Highway-Kanyakumari. 

 Soon our throats were all itchy and scratchy from shouting  loud all the songs on the play- list! ( Even the melodies) . Our old summer favorite songs would play and we were reminded of those sweet vacations. Where it was impossible to even think about spending it alone in our  homes! It was imperative, we stay at the other's homes or better they come here; not to sign fancy bills at talked about restaurants or worry about what's  next. But just so we can play pretend games on rooftops. Our characters had  no fancy aspirations very unlike us. They were simply grown ups.We were talking ever so enthusiastically about how we all had our own alter egos  ( Not Batman or Spider man, but rather Ramesh, Suresh, Mahesh)  when we reached Marthandam.

   Ah, the perfect time to  stop for a nice cup of coffee. It was still cold outside and there were some lorries parked here and there, all the drivers too engrossed in their own morning routines. We had our coffees in silence. Each of us caught up in our own reveries. However, the common sense of the morning washed over us and soon we were back on track. We passed through Marthandam and Thuckalay. On the side, we could see scattered hills, so majestically matched  with the brightening sky! The locals didn't seem to stand in awe of these majestic hill strips. They were too used to it. Too familiar to them.If only they could see this another first time. 

 We reached Nagercoil and somewhere along the road we took a turn that changed our journey. It was not intentionally that we took the road less traveled. It just happened.What could have been a straight drive from Trivandrum to Kanyakumari via NH 66 turned into a journey via the Muppandal Wind Farm (NH 44) and yes we were just so glad we took the turn. Because the Muppandal Wind Farm is an absolute delight to look at.`In fact it is one of the largest wind farms in Asia.

And somewhere along the way the sun rose. Nature beats us. Again. Our goal of reaching the tip to see the sunrise failed but we didn't mind. We didn't have a long way to go now.

In less than half an hour we reached Kanya Kumari. I had visited Kanyakumari four years back and seeing it now makes me realize how much things have changed. The only place that looks good, heavily crowded is the night sky . Kanyakumari was heavily crowded with people polluting this beautiful land in different ways. This was an instant put off. However, Kanyakumari still managed to retain her charm. We categorized Kanyakumari into the million number of tourist places there were and what happens when you fit in, the places that stood out before? They disappear. They merge and soon they disappear. Same thing happens with people.

 We commercialized and thus we destroyed. The place looks beautiful, I accept. But it's high time we start sharing empathetic sentiments with our lands.  We have the Vivekananda Rock, Memorial, Thiruvallur Statue and Gandhi Mandapam to attract thousands. So we decided to stand aside. We drove away to a place from where we could still have the view and enjoy it in peace without the noisy crowd.
But I can say without a second glance that no wind or no sun has done more to illuminate the souls we have within. That's what makes this land special.

The sun was climbing higher and was almost looking down on us. The heat had us finding solace in a nearby restaurant. And I must say a very well kept restaurant- Sangam, from where we had Ghee Roasts and Vada! Yummy.

Though we were hesitant to leave, the thought of missing the Onasadya packed us off in a jiffy. The journey back wasn't exceptional. We kind of got lost in the Nagercoil town and we rode through some inner roads. Not fun. And the heat was really getting to us.

Looking back, what I remember and cherish most about this journey is the emotions associated with it. Every trip you've ever had will have some emotions etched to it. And the slightest smell shall trigger a wave of memories for you. The songs you sang then will always be the songs of that one road trip. The next time they play, you will all say in an excited chorus, " Remember that time when we went to.....? " Isn't that what, at the end of the day life is all about? A collection of  'Remember that time when we went tos....'

  

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Socially Awkward- Weddings

"Weddings are fun! "

                            -An overtly extroverted person with an extraordinary capacity to indulge in social conversations.

Why are we losing sight of the essential life-affirming truth that, "Oh no,they are not". Weddings are places that make you realise yet another time that social awkwardness is probably your most dominant trait.You have to plaster an unhealthy smile and dress up in a particular manner.It's only when your muscles start to ache so hard that, you are reminded to stop smiling all the time like an idiot. I don't hold any personal grudge against weddings but they are strange.  I don't know what other word to describe our big fat Indian weddings with. It goes without saying that they are grand and glittery and jaw dropping.  But more than that, I feel like it's a stage for the family to blatantly showcase their wealth on the bride.

Hello extroverts, you might say in your defense that they are places to rekindle lost relationships and discover new ones (Match -makers and girl hunters, we see you) but they are not! Half of the people are there for the food. The other half are judgemental gossip mongers with a knack for assuming things. They know your story if they have seen you......once.  And conversation starters put me in a physical and mental trauma. In the wedding conversation starters for dummies, we have,

1) The ever so famous ' Allow me to judge your weight"

                         It's honestly amazing how people can measure in a matter of few earth seconds, the few kgs you gained or lost. But wait! Both the scenarios will be presented in the most offensive way possible- If the judge feels like you lost weight they'll say " Oh honey, you look so tired" and if they feel like you gained, " omg, you look very fat "

2) The we-are-not-close-but-I'll still-ask-you-who-I'm.

                         Whenever I see a human being nearing, I'm instantly looking, searching, listening for clues from somewhere as to who they are. Of course, I've seen them. No, I don't know them. I'm sorry but my brain just didn't register your biography. Cliched replies include : "I've seen you but I have a bad habit of forgetting names" " Of course, I know you, what are you talking about? " but the second reply will backfire. Because there's no stopping them, they will again ask you : " Then say, who am I ?" . That is one amazing riddle if you ask me.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

Now let's talk about your clothing.

Well, your ornaments shouldn't shine as much as the brides. You shouldn't dress as pretty and you should dress in a way that strongly establishes the proximity of  your relation with the bride or the groom. If you are the bride's or groom's sister or brother the archetypes go like this. Saree/ Half- Saree for girls. Wait. If you are the next in line to marry, stick with a saree. Can't wear a saree? Do not worry. You will. Shirt/ Kurta with a shiny mundu is the default cloth type for boys. Personally, I don't like to dress up. So, whenever I step out of the house to attend a wedding in my personal style, I'm asked if I'm going to a funeral. Since I'm dependent and to survive I have to abide by my family's rules, I'm  sent back to the dressing room.

                       The fragrance of jasmine and winds scented with the smell of  Agarbathi are made insignificant by the strong winds of criticism. The minute you enter the area, you are under  some serious surveillance. Not studying to become a doctor or engineer? Get ready to face a lot of 'you-have-my-pity'.
 Your clothing, the way you walk, your dominant facial expression, your knowledge about your relationship with your family, close and not. If middle aged aunties approach you, strangely curious about your well being and more over your age and education, beware! For they have with them a potential partner for you. ( Maintain safe distance ) .

 The lack of conversation flow and awkward silences is another major problem. Some conversations end abruptly or have a lot of awkward silences which is most often broken by asking
if they had food.

Need I even start with the bride and groom? The bride can hardly balance herself from the weight of the gold and the groom looks perpetually disoriented. Their family is all over the place. Constantly checking if everyone's having a good time. Aww.

I can go on and on about how awkward and strange our weddings are. I might as well write a book. A coin has two sides. A wedding um..has its positives. Well someone is getting married. Yay?  Now, if you'd excuse me, I have a wedding to attend.

                             

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Snack your heart out at Achayan's

                                                                  I was a bit too sad that I didn't find this miraculous place any sooner. Achayan's didn't require any over the top advertising to have people talking about it. Achayan's simply relied on their Sandwiches and Shakes to get the work done and as if by some kind of magic, everyone was talking about this little shop that serves love in all its softness and sugariness.
Located near Stone Bridge in Alappuzha, I can say without a doubt that Achayan's is the place to be if you are looking for a delicious 4'o' clock time alone or with friends.

Achayan's is famous for their sandwiches. But don't be too late for they are in high demand and the tray goes empty before you know it. They make the kind of sandwiches that have your tongue swirling around every bit of mayonnaise soaked soft bread. The kind that leaves an after taste in your mouth which you just don't want to wash off. Now the shakes, the first time I went there, I had a Spanish Delight and the second I had an Oreo Shake. The Spanish Delight is sweetness overload ( in a good way) . As you straw in the delight, it sometimes gets stuck because of the frozen milk and ice cream that's in. I personally liked the Oreo Shake a tad bit better than the Spanish Delight, because unlike the Spanish Delight, the saltiness of the crushed biscuit blended with the sweetness felt like magic on my tongue! But it was later I realised that Achayan's was actually famous for their Falooda.

Beloved Achayan of Achayan's 

The service is pretty great too. You feel at home here. and you don't have to have your pretentious and self- conscious guard on while here. I don't know if it is the ambience or the people there but you feel a kind of calm you don't find anywhere else. And you don't have to worry about comfort because there might be little  space but it doesn't lack in comfort. The best time to be here is at around twilight because the lighting matched  with the fading sky outside amps up the ambience all the more. Anytime is fine, to be honest. Bring along your good friends or come with your family for a nice chat or come alone. If you are coming alone, bring your favourite book, sit in a corner and read as you slowly sip the yummy juice.

Coming to Achayan's was like a mental detox for me. Even though it is jammed between other little shops, aside heavy traffic and busy people, once you are inside, you feel as if you are far far from the madding crowd and finally at peace.  Achayan's has a lot to offer! If you haven't discovered this cute little place yet, do visit. The shop is open on all days except Sundays from 9 AM- 8 PM. It's on NS Bose Rd, Chungam in Alappuzha.

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Straight from Kalarkode to Thirumala- The Unconventional Meditation Technique

                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

                                                  Is it possible to maintain your calm and put on a healthy smile while elbowing your way through people and traffic and some dust and oh yes mud? Your face might have probably frowned or made some kind of weird expression from what you just read. An obvious No from you. But let me tell you something. Yes, you can. Yes, you definitely can. Because it's tried and tested from me. I cannot even begin to tell you how happy and refreshed I feel after this  2km walk in the evening. But the trick is to make yourself understand that this is possible. I'll tell you why and how I kept my calm and happiness. First: The Why. Traveling by auto from Kalarkode to Thirumala will cost you Rs 40. I didn't want to spend Rs.40 daily. Because make that 5 times a week and this alone will rip from me  at least Rs.600 in a month. ( I'm not being stingy. I'm saving up for something) . You still wonder where all your money goes? And it goes without saying that walking is too good for you! It's a full body workout and believe me it's fun. ( Provided you do it the right way ) . 
                
   Now, The How. Just remember to be happy and remember to observe keenly. I was amazed at all the new discoveries I made. All the little shops with freshly made ' Vazhakkapam' ( Banana fritters) and steaming cups of tea and coffee. Along this road, there are a lot of teeny tiny shops with crippled chairs in the front.  You will listen to the hot debates of the old men. " No, be it, Modi or Rajeev Gandhi, Indians won't change". His companion in a wrinkled lungi will fight back. I realised that what I did was simply find perfection in the imperfect. While rushing in our cars and huffing on our motorbikes to get to our offices as soon as possible, how many times have we forgotten that in the ordinary lies the extraordinary? 
The people in front of the medical shops lingering a little longer to chat with the sales person about the weather, the busy line in front of the doctor's clinic. And as a bus rushes past you, you sway a bit to the side. and when you finally get your balance, on the right you will see a radio shop with old Hindi songs blaring from it. You have to listen properly for it tends to get lost in all the other sounds of  the NH. The happy yet tired kids walking from somewhere to somewhere, clearly not engaged in the moment. And my oh my the healthy dogs with shiny coats sleeping by the side. I haven't ever seen a more peaceful living being. Now from this main road, there are various side roads. They are often blessed with healthy plants and thick bushes on the side, making the view more mysterious and beautiful. And the kind of emotions you go through on seeing the Punnapara Vayalar Memorial. Wow.The best weather to walk through this busy road to find your peace is the moody one with a light cold breeze. And finally,
when you reach home, your hamstrings might cry a little for they are new to this. But that soon goes away and then you have with you the stories of the common man. 
                                                         

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