This was a super bummer on my head!
Just sometime back, i discovered i like writing. Not that i am any good at it, but it just makes me feel better. Its like puking it all out, as they say. Topics, nevermind. They could have been like a hundred thousand times better. My choices are'nt that bad, you know. Just that, something that triggers off that writer bug, when that thing goes bonkers, this is what it does.
IT had been some time now. I had no inspiration to write. To put it in simple words, there were so many things going around me that i dint want to join the bandwagon writing endless opinions on the already exhausted discussions. Words like 'IPL' , 'Government ad trust vote', 'shahrukh khan', 'arushi case' , 'media and its recent controvercies' !! Gosh they kept ringing in my ears, a logical outcome of news dailies plus *wow* the media!
The fact that everyone is talking, demanding the right to freedom of speech and 'we are a free country' excuses, every issue today is talked to death. Is it good? bad? Signs of a progressive nation? Or one that is having its last laugh on integrity ?
So, sometime back, i happened to flip through my past assignments, ones I managed keeping with those killer deadlines in bmm. One of them, was just random. Laughs. It was about this ficticious interview we had to come up with, for a creative writing assignment, i am guessing. People in my class, forgetting that the 'interview' had to be ficticious and not the person, came up with interviews with, hold it, Coke bottles, Dexter, and stuff like that. Creative class. Hmm. It was'nt appreciated, as far as i remmeber. Creative class?
So, (thats how i start random conversations, or convos that are going nowhere, just like my dead brains). My assignment was with Miss Riddhi, a street child and, ofcourse, a part time working, 12 year old girl. I finished the whole thing in like s few hours i think. 2 hours. Yes.
Not thinking about what would be its possible effects, on the professor, on me, on the ficticious character.
Few days back, i actually read my assignment. I realised there was something in my head when writing that, which i failed to notice then. That girl, my progaonist, my lead, my subject, the iterviewee, was illterate. I could write one article, thousans of sentences, a million words, she could'nt read them. Any of it. y question is, would that come under breach of trust? She trusted me with her story, i presented it to other people, in a form she could not comprehend. She loved me. Her stories were fascinating. Her experiences with the unknowns were unbelievable! She told me she had hundreds of friends, forting a fate like hers. Answering my unaskd question, she told me she was allowed to study. She had some spare money she alway dreamt of to spend on her education. Why, i asked, which just came out the wrong way. I meant, her ambition, goal. " want to talk to the world. Ad i can do that only in a language they understand." Small girl?
" I did get admisson in a local school, they refused to teach us english. Some uncle came up to us on day, and informed the teacher to teach us only 'our' language." "Soon, they had no money left, the school was shut down. It left us no future."
I promised myself to teach her english.
She asked me a question, to which i had an answer, she would'nt want to hear.
" I have heard people talk english around. I mean, i don't understand it, but i know its english. So..why is it that we are being told to be... what we are, if you get what i am asking."
Please post me any logical, brave answer. And a braver heart.
Few days back, i actually read my assignment. I realised there was something in my head when writing that, which i failed to notice then. That girl, my progaonist, my lead, my subject, the iterviewee, was illterate. I could write one article, thousans of sentences, a million words, she could'nt read them. Any of it. y question is, would that come under breach of trust? She trusted me with her story, i presented it to other people, in a form she could not comprehend. She loved me. Her stories were fascinating. Her experiences with the unknowns were unbelievable! She told me she had hundreds of friends, forting a fate like hers. Answering my unaskd question, she told me she was allowed to study. She had some spare money she alway dreamt of to spend on her education. Why, i asked, which just came out the wrong way. I meant, her ambition, goal. " want to talk to the world. Ad i can do that only in a language they understand." Small girl?
" I did get admisson in a local school, they refused to teach us english. Some uncle came up to us on day, and informed the teacher to teach us only 'our' language." "Soon, they had no money left, the school was shut down. It left us no future."
I promised myself to teach her english.
She asked me a question, to which i had an answer, she would'nt want to hear.
" I have heard people talk english around. I mean, i don't understand it, but i know its english. So..why is it that we are being told to be... what we are, if you get what i am asking."
Please post me any logical, brave answer. And a braver heart.
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