I was in a co-ed school only till my class 5. While many say I missed out on a lot of fun without being in a class with guys after that, I think we girls did have fun in our own way. But in this post, I just want to talk about some of my 'boy' classmates I had in primary school.

Even when I was in kindergarten, I ended up fighting with many little guys. One of them especially (I think he was called Manoj), drove me mad. This chap always used to steal my lil' cutely shaped erasers (cycles, humans, etc. , the cycle being my favourite!). He ultimately even stole my cycle eraser and returned it after pulling its wheels and handlebar apart. What remained of the eraser, I don't know, but I'll never forgive him for damaging my cute cycle.

In my new school guys were a bit better. There was one who was great at drawing dinosaurs and the Ninja Turtles. This guy would also be a great source of entertainment for the class. During the lunch break, all of us would quickly gobble our food and hide under the benches, waiting for this guy to 'hunt' us out. He was especially good at moving just like a dinosaur (Oh, Jurassic Park had released just then!) and shouting like one. Though he kept us occupied during lunch hours, I hated him because he was one of the two people in class I had to compete with for the first rank.

When I was in class 3, there was once this rowdy from another section (!) who pinched me so hard my hand began to bleed. This happened in the school grounds and 2 'senior' boys from class 4 who saw the 'incident' made sure they reported to his class teacher and came back to tell me that he was punished :). Funny!!

I soon changed my school again and this time, there was more trouble. Unlike in my previous school, this school had benches where only two people could sit. And my first bench mate was a troublesome boy. Gosh, how much I hated him! He used to take pencil shavings and draw 'boundaries' in the bench to define our 'territories' and would yell at me if my hand went into his 'territory' during writing. He tortured me, poor little new student me, until some fellow classmates took pity and requested the class teacher to change my benchmate. Boy, I shall always be thankful to those guys! :)

The new benchmate was a very nice guy, a tad too fat, though. The first time he came to sit in my bench, he sat with such a thud that the ink pen I was writing with fell down and the nib was broken. Though I was really thin that time, I did need some space to sit and he really did not give me much choice than to dangle somewhere in the edge of the seat and hold on to some chunk of wood to prevent myself from falling down. So this guy defined territories unconsciously.

Well, my benchmate was changed soon, and this time it was a girl, and a really nice one. By the time I could revel in the happiness of getting a new benchmate, school was over. And from the next year, I would be in an all girls class, and the beginning of understanding how much (more) fun an all-girls class could be! Yes, of course, I don't have a standard to compare it with, but it has been awesome! :)

Projects...sigh! As much as I love my course and the projects that I have to do, it does get on my nerves at times when I struggle like Atlas under a world which meant only projects for many weeks.
Right now, my mind is desperately crying to get away from my computer desk and get out. How much of it I can fulfil, I don't know. That's why a break - to blog.

Just can't help smiling thinking of the debates I took part in recently, one on my birthday when I almost made a fool of myself too.
Debates in school had been so dumb, with topics given a week in advance, and people coming in with prepared speeches in papers, and no on-the-spot questioning allowed. A really stupid policy; feel like going and telling my teachers it's not doing anything to make the students debaters.

Not that I love debating that much; I'm more of a public speaker, and do better with making eye contact with all the people in the room, and making an earnest attempt at connecting to them and make them accept and enjoy what I'm talking. Eye contact isn't really necessary in debates, and whenever I debate (that's rare!), I have some difficulty trying not to look at the person whose points I'm trying to rebut.

So when I saw a proper debate in university for the first time, I was awed: it would be too good for my course, I thought, with all the critical and on-the-spot thinking that it required. So I even enlisted for selections in the univ's team. Didn't make it, though. I made quite a mess of things in a debate with a motion on banning smoking in public places (ha! I don't even remember it properly!). I was stumped when the first speaker in the opposite team contextualised the topic such that I, the one to go after him, had nothing very valid to offer. I managed to spill some related words out of my mouth for two minutes and got back thoroughly irritated.
The next topic was funny: "This house would legalise prostitution". I heard it and laughed, which made the senior debate member whose team I was in, pretty pissed. "What's there to laugh about? You're not a kid!" Oh boy, I didn't laugh for the topic. I laughed because my dreams of getting into the squad were over.

Good thing I didn't get through, though. I can only shudder now thinking of what would have happened if I had gotten through: a very hectic course and regular debate sessions which required a good deal of reading up. Whew!

Now I just stick to attending the inter-school debate contests held annually. They turn out to be good fun, actually. I remember the first time I saw some people raise Points of Information (POIs) and tried hard to control my laughter. To put it simply, it's somewhat like how some singers (ideally with a harmonium in the front) put a hand to their ear and stretch the other hand (when they sing). :) POIs are when they have something to ask the speaker.
The way a POI is dismissed is by saying "not now madam/sir" or "later" or whatever the individual speaker wants to say that clearly says 'sit down.'

Some occasions when you think the speaker has made some sensible point, you say "hear, hear."
So my most recent debate was on my birthday. I, as usual, was talking with my intonations, moving back and forth and occasionally looking at the opposition member and then remembering not to.
One friend on the opposition side was irritating me because she had some POI to raise for almost every other sentence I spoke.
"Later, ma'am." I said "Later, ma'am" I had to keep repeating (ha! Doesn't that show what a good debater I am!?).

I was so busy waving my hand asking anyone who raised POIs to sit down, so much that I knew even before the person stood up with the pandit gesture. ;)
Looks like accidentally I dropped out some sensible sentence.
"hear, hear.." said the friend who kept raising POIs.
"Later, ma'am," I said immediately, mechanically.
P.S.: My team came third in that round. But I was really happy: for the first time in my debating history, I had spoken for the entire 7 minutes allotted and took a POI! :)

Updating my blog after a long time with a story written when I was vetti, yes, during my summer vacation.

Suresh's family had four people including him - his mother Girija, widowed when Suresh was barely two years old; his older sister Devika, divorced four years back, and Devika's little daughter Preethi.

Things used to be so bad in their family; so bad that you'd think you were watching a typical Tamil mega serial. The happenings in their family would be so similar to a daily soap that you would feel some director saw their home and struck upon the idea of daily soaps that just wish you weren't alive. Girija had brought up Suresh and Devika with great difficulty, making sure both had their schooling completely, and in Suresh's case, a graduation. Borrowing money here and there, and using all what she had saved, she had managed to marry off Devika recently. But fate had something else in store: Devika's husband turned out to be such a drunkard and wife beater that even conservative Girija agreed to get her daughter divorced.
When Devika got divorced and came to stay with them, Suresh was still studying his B.A. in History. Just the fact that Suresh was doing a degree was a matter of fierce pride for Girija; she went about telling everyone that her son would get a degree soon, 'deguree' as she called it.

The onus of providing for the family fell on Suresh as soon as he graduated, and he did carry it off with great elan. On the second of every month, he gave Girija an envelope containing Rs. 1500. Devika supplemented the family's income by teaching embroidery to the kids in the neighbourhood.

Girija was obviously pleased with the work and responsibility of her children; one thing perturbed her greatly, though. Suresh never told any of them where he worked. When pestered, as Girija usually did the night he brought home the salary, all he would say was "Marketing."
"Marketing-naa? Selling something door to door?"
"No," Suresh would say, "this is different. People come to me to buy."
"Okay, then what do you sell?"
"Amma, if you don't let me eat in peace I will leave right now."

Girija would stop talking. But she would constantly feel uneasy. What if he was doing something illegal? What if he gets caught or something? Even when she addressed such concerns to Suresh, all he would say was "I'm doing nothing wrong."
Thus would cease the discussion for at least a month till Suresh brought home his next salary. This dialogue was a regular feature.

Little Preethi had always wanted to go to Mahabalipuram, and had been asking her mother to take her there for quite some time now. One fine Friday during her summer vacation, Devika and Girija found the time to take Preethi to Mahabalipuram. Together they set out, with a jute bag having food and a mat to spread on the floor when they would eat. They waited for a bus for a long time at the huge Saidapet bus depot, and finally got one.
The day was hot; the two women wrapped their saree pallus around their hair to avoid the hot air. The bus sped towards Mahabalipuram.

Little Preethi was the one who spotted it first. The bus was approaching a signal. There was a man in the signal selling these beautiful stuffed toys for Rs. 50. Preethi jumped at the sight of those dolls.
"Amma, I want one!"
Devika sighed. Rs. 50 for a doll was something she didn't want to spend now. But then she remembered that Preethi was turning six in another month. She could buy this instead of a new dress.
"Let the bus stop at the signal, "she said.

The bus stopped at the signal.
Devika fished out Rs 50 from her purse.
Suddenly Preethi was tugging at her saree.
"Amma....velila paaren..."
"Ennadi enna ipdi poattu padu...." Devika stopped.
"Patti neeyum paaren," cried Preethi.
Girija also peeped out, surprised at Devika's open mouthed stare.
Suresh was there, waving the dolls at each window of the bus. He hung his head low when he came to their window and noiselessly passed through it.

P.S.: Please don't tell me there is no bus that goes to Mahabalipuram from the Saidapet depot. I really don't know.
Psst...how do you like the title?? :)

You open your blog after a long day of work.
(well, actually you've been opening it through your day of work, but let's not really talk about that).
You've not updated your blog for a long time, but still keep checking it to see if someone cares to drop by your blog.
Ah! There's a new comment!!

Eager to see who it is from, and already planning to thank the person for checking your blog, you click the comments section link with anticipation.
And what do you see?
A comment from Jon, telling you about Nike Basketball shoes and capricorn horoscopes ( what on earth this means, I don't know!). Or probably how to make easy and 'free' money (free money-aa, adhu epdi? Find out from Jon!! ;) ).

So what's the solution?
Blogger came up with word verification to prevent spam comments. Gosh, this thing is extremely irritating... typing some nonsensical letters (well the other thing I've never understood is how this helps remove spam!Techies, come over!!)
Another huge thing I've never understood is why spam comments appear: do people actually click on Jon's link and see what Nike Basketball shoes he has to offer?

A dear friend sent me into peals of laughter when she cutely replied for a spam comment. Whether she had done it knowingly or not I don't know, but dear, you really don't have to reply for spam comments!!!
Boy, aren't spam comments giving us good laughs at times?!
Wish I could prevent spam comments without that stupid word verification thing!!

Read on.

She glanced at the clock.
9:00
I looked at my watch with anxiety.
11:30
Ugh, it’s not yet time.
She went back to her Ananda Vikatan magazine. Sujatha’s story was proceeding at a very interesting pace.
I looked at my “A History of Communication Study” and stared at the chapter about Carl Hovland. My eyes were just scanning at the text: nothing went in, I made no effort to try to register the text.
I looked at my watch again.
11:47
I sighed. There was still time.
I opened my blog and started reading my older posts. This would be the only way to keep me occupied for some minutes.
She put the Ananda Vikatan down and picked up the newspaper. She laughed. She was reading the day’s newspaper when the day was almost over.
“Oh! The day is almost over!” she thought again, only that this time it reminded her that she had to do something else.
She looked at the clock.
9:27
She went to the phone.
She dialed the numbers.
My phone rang.
I looked at my watch.
12:00
I leapt up with joy.
I picked up the phone.
“Hello..”
“Ei kutty, Happy Birthday!”
I smiled widely. My eyes danced with laughter and happiness.
“Happy Birthday to you….. Happy Birthday Vani!” sang amma over the phone.