Game of accounts-Neethu Krishnan

"Neethu, should we debit it or credit it?"
"Sir, debit.. no credit sir I don't know!"
"Well ,it's okay molu.There is still one more week for your exam ."
Okay guys so that was just a dialogue between my accountancy sir and myself a week before the nerve-racking accountancy boards. I am afraid of ghosts ,but I feared accounts even more.Yes, the whole idea of putting numbers into different columns was not my cup of tea. I failed all throughout 12th for accounts and had zero confidence to face the boards.
I don't remember exactly when, but then my accounts teacher Mr Devidayal ,whom we all hated due to different reasons came to me and had this long talk which ended up in him offering to teach me the whole accounts portion ten days before the exam!! I didn't have much hope still I went for it because I knew very well that I was in a position to do anything to get a pass mark.
Okay so now I can proudly say that I passed my exam with a really good mark .And, yes it was all because of him. He had me over in his house for about 10 days right before the exam from morning till night. He started teaching the most basic things which made me feel like a four year old which I enjoyed a lot to be honest .I made mistakes each and every time over and over again. He did not scold me ,but he tried to make things clear in the best possible way. My confidence starting going up from zero day by day. Very soon I was able to crack even the extremely intellectual problems using the tips given my him.
And then, on the day before the exam he didn't talk much as I expected, all he said was just to believe in yourself and the game of accounts (He called it a game) is all yours.
From failing miserably in all tests to scoring reasonably good marks for boards and from hating my accounts teacher all throughout the year to being his greatest fan ,it has been great. So if I consider myself as Cinderella I can say that Mr Devidayal is my fairy god mother!

The seed she watered

             

        

                  

          Lit out by the  blowing wind of  sorrow.I came in feeling like a Bimaru.Distress  swirled me tight.Eyes fell down,hands wrapped over one another I entered.On the board was written welcome to 6th standard.

                    Not an Einstein, Not an artist I was blessed with nothing or so as I thought then.voice of my mates filled the air like squirrels queeking."Hush no one talk when  I am in the class" a voice revaberated over the room.I saw her, standing confident and in  hurry we all settled.I never knew that  was the change,the change that changed it all,yes i am not crazy when i say so.It was really a change  .

         My class teacher for the year.She was strict really strict.she insisted to write neatly,to capitalize the 1st letter and was very particular of punctuation as she was our english teacher as well.She was strict but sweet,she used to give us stars for neatness.She was an inspiration for perfection.  She used to make me write on the board,help her collect works and I loved it.

                       The 1 year changed me.I no longer said that I had no skill,I rather  said to my friends a line she one's told us in class"i am a jack of all traits but master of none" that line boosted me up like nothing.

               When our light goes up and is rekindled by a spark from another person we feel a deep gratitude,I felt it, it am feeling it and will feel the same throughout my like.She was like a small torch in a dark forest.Eventhough after so many years the light she gave me still remains in me.We were like her tributaries,and after a course of time were seperated but the essence remains.She inspired me and that will be passed on!

My Soulmate

"This is life my dear"..with a broad smile she patted  on my shoulder.....Her soft hands reached out for my dead cold hand..Her  hands gave me a little warmth. That day she disappeared leaving that warmth behind.. She got promotted and went to another school to teach,to help out thousands of other souls sharing my fatejust like  she saved me from the unfortunate trap of life .I still remember her calm face with a pair of star shine eyes.and I could never forget her spring round hair.
       One day she came to me and asked for a  favour.   She said Do help..... .Don't wait to grow up, you are big enough to extend a hand of help.I realised,it was not a favour for her,but for me. A piece of advice I still follow and remember everytime I do good for others.
All my friends had future plans. They saw themselves as doctors , pharmacists,teachers and even police.  I didn't have a single future plan to share with my friends."You should become a collector.This is my wish"My teacher reached out with a quick answer. Eventhough  I didnt know who a collector was the answer gave me a spark. From then on she started calling me collector Gopika ,which actually embarrassed me at first..
           Years have passed, my soul(I like to call her that way)is living happily with her family in Kozhikode .She still looks forward to watch me fullfillng her wish.I will fulfill her wish,and that way I could make her smile and that was ever she wanted me to do

       GOPIKA SURESH (8214)

The beautiful cuddle -jovitha james

"When  you come out I 'll cut your tongue"came a roaring sound which pierced my ear which nearly  made me deaf.... moments later I was  rounded by a soft cuddle which was like a soft sheath around my wounded heart.....looking back all these seem to be very silly but these moments still have a great place in my heart
 To be precise I was in my first grade .In every school there would be a P.E sir who is a little tough and would be a terror for most of the students. Even we had a sir like that and one day he came to our class during a free period. It felt like Godzilla entering the class . He said that we can do any work but people who do a lot of tongue work will have their tongue cut when they are out. Scared , there was  a pin drop silence. Little minds filled with fear,an eerie feeling filled the air. As usual,leaders were appointed to do their mundane work. All the chitchatters were caught and unfortunately I was one among them. Bell rang.....It hit my ear like a thunderstorm. He read out the names and warned once again that our tongue will be cut
 Being a naive little creature ,I believed it. My heart beat started to run,my whole body started to tremble. Tears began filling my eyes. It couldn't resist itself and started to flow like water flowing through spillways. The whole class was startled for a second and that was when kripa miss entered the class. She came near me held my hand and took me out. She held me closer to her and asked the reason.  Weeping and sobbing ,I managed to tell her the reason. She gave me a sweet smile ,held my chin up and said that when she is there no one would dare to touch me,then she held me closer to her heart. My body shivered from head to toe.  Her cuddle was like the first drop of rain which touched the hot sands of the dessert. All my sorrows were washed away. Immense joy filled my heart and the moment is beyond description

 The soft cuddle which I got from her was never given by any other teacher and that is what gives her a special place in my heart. There are different kinds of people in the world. Some give us lessons,some give us moments,but only best can give us memories and she is certainly the best... 

Not a Hitler

Sitting in her class was similar to travelling in a Metro. The progress was gradual, with intervals in between and in the end, you get a result which satisfies you.
Betty ma'am was one of those teachers whose classes would leave you mindblown. Yes, she was strict; students called her "Hitler", but at the end of it all, they all came back to her with respect and admiration.

Entering into 11th standard, choosing Commerce was a decision I took independently because I hated Science. Becoming a college student, choosing Economics was again, a decision I took independently but I took it for the love I had for the subject. And this love for the subject wouldn't have been formed without her presence.

She was my class teacher in 11th standard. Her tall stature and her strict manner was quite enough to scare us. No one could talk during her classes, she'd ask questions the moment you got distracted, but she was still the sweetest person ever. When she asked questions, she did not leave us lost in the dense forest that is 'Economics', rather she showed the way as we tagged along beside her. She never gave the answers, but took us through the right paths in such a way that we could find the answers ourselves. One could say that she was strict in a soothing way.

She went for a long leave in 12th standard to take care of her unwell son. That was when we fully understood her value. Two other teachers taught us. But when you've already been taught by the 'Queen of the jungle', nothing else could satisfy you. She was always there for us, a call away, a text away. She'd clear all doubts and even without her physical presence at school, she was the reason for our good results for the Board exams.

This year, she took VRS after 25 years of brilliant service and I feel like it is the biggest loss for the school and the students who were meant to be taught by her. In her farewell speech, she had said, "This retirement is filled both with happiness and sadness. The sad part of leaving the school and my students is unbearable. But the happy part is that I get to spend time with my son." The sheer number of passed out students who had come for the farewell function was enough to prove that she was indeed a person respected by all. Even the ones whom she had scolded the most loved her.

I consider myself lucky to know her and to have been taught by her. She is my inspiration and my motivation, and with an ambition to become a college professor, I consider her as my role model. I know this is a clichèd sentence, but I can't conclude without saying that she was not just a teacher but a mother who cared and loved us like her own children. She helped me take the road not taken and I don't regret it one bit. 

-Vismaya Venugopal

DISASTER MANAGEMENT___S.Sanjay.Krishna

The satirical life of mine was beautiful and exactly similar to the title, for my parents exactly.Gone crazy on automobiles my parents spend most of their time in toy shops. Getting into school was like starting a supercar in an F1 race. Each lap went awkwardly fast and I just like taking a long jump to tenth standard. It just took the same amount of time we drink a fresh lime. (Pity me if it didn't feel like a joke)


        As all boys, when a bit of hair starts to grow underneath your nose, even me was trapped in social media busy adding likes to a special one of mine. The poor CBSE guys didn't know what was the problem and took some points away from my tenth grades. My parents caught me red handed and bought the sweet transfer certificate from my school.And then bought me admission in a nearby school, St.Mary's H.S.S.

       Everything felt upside down.My mind was trapped like the frog in the well.So at the time of admissions a well dressed man who just felt like the Complete Actor and shook hands with me and introduced him as Mr.T.C Roy.I was frozen when I heard his initial letters.
       

      He just saved me from drowning in the ship filled with science and commerce by throwing me a log of humanities.Classes started and at first I again felt useless and drowning during my unit tests.So seeing me sitting like a squirrel who lost something or the other, sir came besides and asked why I am just drowning in water when you had such strong hands.He knew that I could make differences with what I had inside me.I think he understood what drowned this ship.

        He told me participate in competitions and surprisingly prizes walked back with me were ever I went.Each time of my laurels he told me that, you conquer immense happiness in life when you do things that people around you say you can't.His words felt like a godly presence near me,at times when I was shattered into pieces.He understood my soul within a span of two months, which was unknown to my father, even after a long 18 years together.
       
   
      At the end of the race the tortoise won the race with the highest marks in all the humanities classes.
He taught me political science and was damn sure to take the same.He adviced me to choose economics and told me that was my path.
     

     He wanted me to get into Sacred Heart College 

but everything will not be favourable to us all times 

But the bitter paths took me to BMC and at the end of the road lied the sweetness, which made me reach here.I'll never forget the hug he gave me while hearing this from me.The happiness that I experienced was equivalent to the joy that we get while seeing a pond in the midst of a desert. 

      

    I always thank GOD each and every moment for giving me an opportunity to study in this sacred place and giving me a teacher who challenged met to make the impossible "POSSIBLE"one day.Meeting each and every buds of this beautiful plant was very special to me there after.I knew I am stupid,but when I looked around me I felt a lot better, after coming to this class.

THOUGHTS TO REALISATION

THOUGHTS TO REALISATION                          - ANNA ELDHO

                                                                         ( Posted by Oikonomia )

A muddy hand stretched towards me..... it was like a bridge to his eyes. I stood up and my eyes reached those eyes through the hand. The two glazing stars ,but they were not suiting to that boorish figure in front of me. It seemed like two stars fixed on the skull. The body was in utter weakness but the eyes showered some kind of divinity. And the Divinity spoke to me.........in silence. Throwing the mud in my hands I ran up for the patriarch. He came to the threshold like a king, but nothing had happened beyond ignorance. I was very keen for that person as his presence reminded me my Grandfather, whom I loved the most and is no more. Even though I couldn't do anything for him....nothing had shaken his smile. He returned with empty hands. He only left a few footprints in the damp soil. After all this, my seedlings and his footprints lay like strangers in the quad.
        A curious thought disturbed me that night...."We both had mud in our hands then why did father neglect him." I didn't want to bury that query inside. Yesterday night my father was questioned for his heinous action." We were taught that All Indians are our brothers and sisters, then why didn't you help that person who begged before you?" He was shuddered on my suspicion. He finally consoled me saying “They are unreliable and we should be careful of them ". It spread uneasiness and I couldn't sleep yesterday.
            I was in a hurry to school this morning and father gave his love as 10 rupees as pocket money. On the way to school I think about the muddy hands and the money hands and I found similarities and differences in the way two people stretched their hands for two entirely different purposes. I didn't expect that I could find the right person to give that money. Yes, I found him. He was weary, even though he was taking care of his little one. She was sleeping tiredly. Then it was my turn to stretch the hands. I bought a smile worth 10 rupees. After a little walking I couldn't control my inquisitiveness..... I searched him to know how much happiness I gave him. A father's love was caressing his princess... He could not abate the hunger with that little money yet he could smile. This made me think how much food I waste everyday.......!