Dear fellow creative scribblers,
Please contribute to the blog. Don't be shy. Share.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
The singing English Language Teacher
Looking at Bindyu, I would never have guessed that she was coming to the end of four
tumultuous weeks of training. She is a live-wire and forthright. Bindyu, 33, is one day
from completing her CELTA (Certificate of English Language Teacher for Adults) at the
British Council. We catch up with the CELTA aspirant, late one September evening, for
tête-à-tête, in the stillness of the Char Bhag.Bindyu, dressed in a terra-cota salwar kameez
which is in harmony with our surroundings, is upbeat: ‘I now know what teaching is
about. Am proud to have done CELTA.’
What makes this training programme special? Bindyu elaborates (gesticulating with her
hands) that the pedagogic approach is not the standard – teacher droning in front of
students – method which we were subjected to while learning language. For CELTA, the
external assessor provides a 360 degree evaluation of the aspirant’s performance in class.
The aspirant is marked on such criteria as: her position in class, knowledge of equipment
and how systematically records are kept. Time management is considered to be essential.
If a class is to be for 40 minutes, then it has to end on the dot. 40 minutes and 30 seconds
is too long, and 39 minutes 30 seconds is too short.
She tells us that she had not always wanted to become an English Language Teacher.
But, language has been a common theme in her adult life. Bindyu holds Bachelors in
English (honours) and a degree in Mass Communications (advertising and public
relations). She has an eclectic set of work experiences in the bag – she managed her own
language school, was a trainer @ outsourcing company Convergys, and was a project
manager at the British Council.
The intensive CELTA programme does entail sacrifices. Bindyu lives in Gurgaon, so the
commute to the British Council can be taxing at times. She often leaves at 6:30 am and
sees her living room only by 10:30 pm. This schedule does not give her much time with
her two children. Through it all, Bindyu’s husband has been her aegis shield. She chats
with him ‘to get out of the blues…’.
In terms of rupees and paisa, the CELTA programme will put you back by 1 followed by
5 zeros. Then there are other expenses, Bindyu adds: commuting (from Gurgaon to
Connaught Place and vice-versa), lunch (Rs. 100 a day), and expenses related to
preparing teaching aids. Total damages come up to approximately Rs.1,15,000. Looking
at Bidyu’s enthusiastic eyes, I’m certain the certificate is well worth the expense.
Bindyu had her titanic-hitting-the-iceberg moment, when she accidentally deleted a zip
file at 4:30 in the morning. She had to re-type e v e r y t h i n g - the class was only
hours away. That day, her presentation was not her best. She was marked ‘below
standard’. The evaluator, gave a detailed assessment of what went wrong and why.
Bindyu was determined to bounce back, and she did. She was marked ‘above standard’
for the remaining assignments.
We ask her where she wants to be 5 years from now. Bindyu immediately
replies that she would like to be in-charge of training in a Multi-National Corporation.
Bindyu sings light classical music. If you are a frequent visitor to Sri Fort Auditorium,
you might have seen her perform there. She hums to herself when happy.
The interview runs way beyond schedule. We reluctantly close our notepads.
Bindyu enquires if we want to know anything else. So, we proceed with our very last
question, ‘where would your dream date take place?’ She tilts her head a bit, her nose
ring sparkles in the night, and she confides, ‘Dilli Haat’.
tumultuous weeks of training. She is a live-wire and forthright. Bindyu, 33, is one day
from completing her CELTA (Certificate of English Language Teacher for Adults) at the
British Council. We catch up with the CELTA aspirant, late one September evening, for
tête-à-tête, in the stillness of the Char Bhag.Bindyu, dressed in a terra-cota salwar kameez
which is in harmony with our surroundings, is upbeat: ‘I now know what teaching is
about. Am proud to have done CELTA.’
What makes this training programme special? Bindyu elaborates (gesticulating with her
hands) that the pedagogic approach is not the standard – teacher droning in front of
students – method which we were subjected to while learning language. For CELTA, the
external assessor provides a 360 degree evaluation of the aspirant’s performance in class.
The aspirant is marked on such criteria as: her position in class, knowledge of equipment
and how systematically records are kept. Time management is considered to be essential.
If a class is to be for 40 minutes, then it has to end on the dot. 40 minutes and 30 seconds
is too long, and 39 minutes 30 seconds is too short.
She tells us that she had not always wanted to become an English Language Teacher.
But, language has been a common theme in her adult life. Bindyu holds Bachelors in
English (honours) and a degree in Mass Communications (advertising and public
relations). She has an eclectic set of work experiences in the bag – she managed her own
language school, was a trainer @ outsourcing company Convergys, and was a project
manager at the British Council.
The intensive CELTA programme does entail sacrifices. Bindyu lives in Gurgaon, so the
commute to the British Council can be taxing at times. She often leaves at 6:30 am and
sees her living room only by 10:30 pm. This schedule does not give her much time with
her two children. Through it all, Bindyu’s husband has been her aegis shield. She chats
with him ‘to get out of the blues…’.
In terms of rupees and paisa, the CELTA programme will put you back by 1 followed by
5 zeros. Then there are other expenses, Bindyu adds: commuting (from Gurgaon to
Connaught Place and vice-versa), lunch (Rs. 100 a day), and expenses related to
preparing teaching aids. Total damages come up to approximately Rs.1,15,000. Looking
at Bidyu’s enthusiastic eyes, I’m certain the certificate is well worth the expense.
Bindyu had her titanic-hitting-the-iceberg moment, when she accidentally deleted a zip
file at 4:30 in the morning. She had to re-type e v e r y t h i n g - the class was only
hours away. That day, her presentation was not her best. She was marked ‘below
standard’. The evaluator, gave a detailed assessment of what went wrong and why.
Bindyu was determined to bounce back, and she did. She was marked ‘above standard’
for the remaining assignments.
We ask her where she wants to be 5 years from now. Bindyu immediately
replies that she would like to be in-charge of training in a Multi-National Corporation.
Bindyu sings light classical music. If you are a frequent visitor to Sri Fort Auditorium,
you might have seen her perform there. She hums to herself when happy.
The interview runs way beyond schedule. We reluctantly close our notepads.
Bindyu enquires if we want to know anything else. So, we proceed with our very last
question, ‘where would your dream date take place?’ She tilts her head a bit, her nose
ring sparkles in the night, and she confides, ‘Dilli Haat’.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
KFC and relationships
Sushmeeta’s eyebrows contract, as she glares at the glowing Nokia. It’s him again, her husband. Always CHECKING UP on me… She refuses to answer and buries the instrument, next to her daughter’s crayons, in a 1-ton capacity Gucci bag. She hears the swoosh of the door, and she raises her eyes to catch the reflection of Randeep on the blank TV screen, as he nonchalantly strolls in. When the course began 6 weeks ago, they sat opposite each other (the chairs are arranged in the shape of a U). The wanna-be Booker Prize winners threw bend-it-like-Beckham glances at each other. With every class, the number of seats separating the writers, collapsed – 10 became 5 became zero. Randeep, who studies Mathematics at Hindu College, rarely condescends to small talk with his classmates. He always seemed to be thinking of some place else, somewhere more tantalizing. Maybe this impressed Sushmeeta. Maybe, she was just bored. Her almond-shaped eyes had that been-to-hell-and-back look. Her in-class contributions were much appreciated: No, I don’t think a street child would go to school…there is just no incentive for the kid or money changes people, something happens to their soul – something turns the thermostat down…
Sushmeeta, although south of 30, is smothered in real-world living. Randeep, who finds it difficult to speak in a group, has nothing to contribute. Zilch. Nada. When prodded, he would utter something inane: ‘The hero should fall in love, in the next chapter.’ Randeep has never lived anywhere but New Delhi. His mother would pamper: ‘Beta, I made your favourite. Roganjosh and rasamalai.’ His older brother was always there:‘Randi, don’t worry, I will sort things out…’
Sushmita’s index finger gently twisted her hair, as they converse at 8:59 pm.
‘Sushmee, KFC ? I feel like chicken tonight,’ Randeep proposes as he closes his notebook.
Sushmita slowly tears a piece of paper in to bits and replies ‘Randi, you know by now, I am veg on Thursdays…’
Sushmeeta, although south of 30, is smothered in real-world living. Randeep, who finds it difficult to speak in a group, has nothing to contribute. Zilch. Nada. When prodded, he would utter something inane: ‘The hero should fall in love, in the next chapter.’ Randeep has never lived anywhere but New Delhi. His mother would pamper: ‘Beta, I made your favourite. Roganjosh and rasamalai.’ His older brother was always there:‘Randi, don’t worry, I will sort things out…’
Sushmita’s index finger gently twisted her hair, as they converse at 8:59 pm.
‘Sushmee, KFC ? I feel like chicken tonight,’ Randeep proposes as he closes his notebook.
Sushmita slowly tears a piece of paper in to bits and replies ‘Randi, you know by now, I am veg on Thursdays…’
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Prompt: “There was once a chance I didn’t take.........
“There was once a chance I didn’t take. It happened on the day when I met Vanita for the last time.”
I told these words to Alok. We were at a bar near his house.
I was a final year Civil Engineering student at Delhi College of Engineering. The college had organised a tour to Darjeeling and Kathmandu. The students were told to assemble at New Delhi Railway Station. At the station, I saw Vanita for the first time. Vanita in a blue Jeans and green T- shirt, exhibited a oval fair complexion face, having beauty of a usual Cleopatra character. The boys in our group would forget to look at the girls around, their glances would survey Vanita in cycles commencing from Vanita’s head to her toe.
She was Urvashi’s cousin. Urvashi was a second year student at the college.
During the rail journey we would often pass each other, smile and go away to our respective births.
It was late evening when we reached Darjeeling. The whole area was covered under fog. All of us started walking uphill towards the Youth Hostel, which was at a good height. I helped Vanita in carrying her luggage. It was here that we talked for the first time. It was a hard uphill walking. The journey became light because of her occasional laughters.
In those days i.e. in the year 1986, Darjeeling was really Queen of the hill stations in India. It looked the same Darjeeling we had seen in many Hindi movies.
On the third day at Darjeeling we went to Mirik; a beautiful spot near Darjeeling. We wanted to visit the beautiful lake at Mirik. Here I got a chance to go boating with her. There were four of us. We started playing antakshri, a kind of song competition. We kept singing till it was evening time. Now and then Vanita and I would look into each other’s eyes.
On coming back to Darjeeling, Vanita sat beside me. Now and then I could feel her submission. The sensation that I was receiving though her touch was carrying me to the seventh heaven.
From that day onward I had the most beautiful time of my life. We were always in each other’s company. At Kathmandu we virtually proposed each other.
Our friendship continued on coming back to Delhi.
I had a friend named Bisht. He was an alumnus of the college. I had great faith in him. I regularly played table tennis with Bisht in the evenings at the College.
On that day I called Vanita to my college. She came with Urvashi. She was in a new dress, with earring studded with jewels. I could see the boys around looking at her now and then. Her beauty was catching everybody’s attention.
Vanita and Urvashi were waiting for me at the college canteen. I was playing table tennis with Bisht. I told Bisht about my affair. Bisht knew Vanita, he advised me not to meet her on that day. I kept playing table tennis with Bisht.
Vanita waited for two hours for me. I did not go to her. While leaving she came to the Table Tennis Room. Her face was crimson. She did not utter a single word and left.
Next day Urvashi told me that Vanita had come to say the three most beautiful words in the world to me.
I never found Vanita again.
At the bar I told everything about my lost love to Alok. Alok looked up. His eyes looked strange.
‘‘You know I had a really good time with Vanita,” Said Alok. His eyes were fixed on me.
I was stunned, I could only utter the word, “when?”
“From the very first day we came back to Delhi from Nepal,” Alok said.
Alok too was with me during the tour to Darjeeling.
When Alok left the bar, I ordered a ‘Patiala peg’.
I told these words to Alok. We were at a bar near his house.
I was a final year Civil Engineering student at Delhi College of Engineering. The college had organised a tour to Darjeeling and Kathmandu. The students were told to assemble at New Delhi Railway Station. At the station, I saw Vanita for the first time. Vanita in a blue Jeans and green T- shirt, exhibited a oval fair complexion face, having beauty of a usual Cleopatra character. The boys in our group would forget to look at the girls around, their glances would survey Vanita in cycles commencing from Vanita’s head to her toe.
She was Urvashi’s cousin. Urvashi was a second year student at the college.
During the rail journey we would often pass each other, smile and go away to our respective births.
It was late evening when we reached Darjeeling. The whole area was covered under fog. All of us started walking uphill towards the Youth Hostel, which was at a good height. I helped Vanita in carrying her luggage. It was here that we talked for the first time. It was a hard uphill walking. The journey became light because of her occasional laughters.
In those days i.e. in the year 1986, Darjeeling was really Queen of the hill stations in India. It looked the same Darjeeling we had seen in many Hindi movies.
On the third day at Darjeeling we went to Mirik; a beautiful spot near Darjeeling. We wanted to visit the beautiful lake at Mirik. Here I got a chance to go boating with her. There were four of us. We started playing antakshri, a kind of song competition. We kept singing till it was evening time. Now and then Vanita and I would look into each other’s eyes.
On coming back to Darjeeling, Vanita sat beside me. Now and then I could feel her submission. The sensation that I was receiving though her touch was carrying me to the seventh heaven.
From that day onward I had the most beautiful time of my life. We were always in each other’s company. At Kathmandu we virtually proposed each other.
Our friendship continued on coming back to Delhi.
I had a friend named Bisht. He was an alumnus of the college. I had great faith in him. I regularly played table tennis with Bisht in the evenings at the College.
On that day I called Vanita to my college. She came with Urvashi. She was in a new dress, with earring studded with jewels. I could see the boys around looking at her now and then. Her beauty was catching everybody’s attention.
Vanita and Urvashi were waiting for me at the college canteen. I was playing table tennis with Bisht. I told Bisht about my affair. Bisht knew Vanita, he advised me not to meet her on that day. I kept playing table tennis with Bisht.
Vanita waited for two hours for me. I did not go to her. While leaving she came to the Table Tennis Room. Her face was crimson. She did not utter a single word and left.
Next day Urvashi told me that Vanita had come to say the three most beautiful words in the world to me.
I never found Vanita again.
At the bar I told everything about my lost love to Alok. Alok looked up. His eyes looked strange.
‘‘You know I had a really good time with Vanita,” Said Alok. His eyes were fixed on me.
I was stunned, I could only utter the word, “when?”
“From the very first day we came back to Delhi from Nepal,” Alok said.
Alok too was with me during the tour to Darjeeling.
When Alok left the bar, I ordered a ‘Patiala peg’.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
A Comic Dialogue
Place, Time & Ambience : Open restaurant on the ship’s upper deck. 11.00 pm, most guests have left. A peppy music is playing – more appropriate for the start of the evening than its conclusion…
People :
Captain Dick – Comic Perspective : ‘Having it both ways’
Dr Sally Jessop – Comic Perspective : ‘The kitten is the cutest of all’
DJ Ashley – Comic Perspective : ‘Give it as you get it’
Other stock characters in the restaurant.
Situation : Sally has had a drink too many. She is heartbroken as the handsome guest she was trying to date whole evening slipped away. Captain Dick is consoling her even as Ashley fancy his chances…
Dialogue : 374 Words
“But Kevin… wait sweetheart… well, I’m sorry.” By that time the young man had thrown his napkin on the table and had left in a huff. Tears welled up in Sally’s eyes.
You can’t really blame the make-up. It can, at best, knock off a few years from your face. But, here it was a question of decades and even an overzealous use of puff and ruse was of little effect. However, such are the misconceptions of vanity that Sally never saw it that way.
Ashley, who was at the counter to the right of Sally, caught it with a timely glance and smiled. He opened a drawer and silently slipped a pack of condoms in his pocket. It was time to make his move.
“Would you care for something, m’am… anything?” asked Ashley in a tone which might have been faintly suggestive.
Sally, almost on a cue, turned around, smiled, fluttered her false eyelashes thrice and said “two martinis dear… extra large and extra dry.” Ashley looks into Sally’s eyes with a smile and leaves to get the drinks.
“Oh my my. Sally darling… lovely. May I join you sweety?”
Ashley turned around while pouring the drinks and saw Captain Dick settling on the chair in front of Sally. “What timing, you fag” he mumbled.
He took out the condom packet and looked at it closely “expiry next week… no way,” he said to himself with resolve and walked towards the table to serve the drinks.
“What’s the matter, my dear… you’ve been drinking again”, asked the captain adjusting the neckline of his frilled shirt top and looking at the spoon surface for a mirror.
“Again…” Sally started wailing.
The Captain offered her the napkin which Sally took to wipe her nose rather loudly. He then took her hands in his and cooed, “don’t cry my dear… I’m here”.
Sally wailed even louder and dabbed her eyes with the napkin…
“But she is straight, sir” Ashley almost snapped at the Captain as he kept the drinks down. Then he turned around, looked at Sally and fainted.
One artificial eye lash had come off as she dabbed her eyes and had settled on her puffed upper lip much like an off-centered Charlie Chaplin moustache.
People :
Captain Dick – Comic Perspective : ‘Having it both ways’
Dr Sally Jessop – Comic Perspective : ‘The kitten is the cutest of all’
DJ Ashley – Comic Perspective : ‘Give it as you get it’
Other stock characters in the restaurant.
Situation : Sally has had a drink too many. She is heartbroken as the handsome guest she was trying to date whole evening slipped away. Captain Dick is consoling her even as Ashley fancy his chances…
Dialogue : 374 Words
“But Kevin… wait sweetheart… well, I’m sorry.” By that time the young man had thrown his napkin on the table and had left in a huff. Tears welled up in Sally’s eyes.
You can’t really blame the make-up. It can, at best, knock off a few years from your face. But, here it was a question of decades and even an overzealous use of puff and ruse was of little effect. However, such are the misconceptions of vanity that Sally never saw it that way.
Ashley, who was at the counter to the right of Sally, caught it with a timely glance and smiled. He opened a drawer and silently slipped a pack of condoms in his pocket. It was time to make his move.
“Would you care for something, m’am… anything?” asked Ashley in a tone which might have been faintly suggestive.
Sally, almost on a cue, turned around, smiled, fluttered her false eyelashes thrice and said “two martinis dear… extra large and extra dry.” Ashley looks into Sally’s eyes with a smile and leaves to get the drinks.
“Oh my my. Sally darling… lovely. May I join you sweety?”
Ashley turned around while pouring the drinks and saw Captain Dick settling on the chair in front of Sally. “What timing, you fag” he mumbled.
He took out the condom packet and looked at it closely “expiry next week… no way,” he said to himself with resolve and walked towards the table to serve the drinks.
“What’s the matter, my dear… you’ve been drinking again”, asked the captain adjusting the neckline of his frilled shirt top and looking at the spoon surface for a mirror.
“Again…” Sally started wailing.
The Captain offered her the napkin which Sally took to wipe her nose rather loudly. He then took her hands in his and cooed, “don’t cry my dear… I’m here”.
Sally wailed even louder and dabbed her eyes with the napkin…
“But she is straight, sir” Ashley almost snapped at the Captain as he kept the drinks down. Then he turned around, looked at Sally and fainted.
One artificial eye lash had come off as she dabbed her eyes and had settled on her puffed upper lip much like an off-centered Charlie Chaplin moustache.
Monday, October 5, 2009
JON
A Beginning...
Rishikesh is hardly a place where you would question people’s rationale on anything. So when his parents, educated and modern as they were, decided to have the birth at home, like the good old days, under the watchful eyes of an octogenarian midwife of dubious credentials, nobody raised an eyebrow.
Only he decided to come out the other way ceremoniously garlanded with the umbilical cord around his neck. Of course, nobody panics in Rishikesh, the abode of Gods and he was, rather embarrassingly on a cycle rickshaw, shifted to the nearby nursing home with his mother all entangled over him and howling as if she was the only one under any discomfort.
The pediatrician in attendance completed the opening ceremony and reported that he was somewhat short on Apgar scores. He had come second in life’s first exam, quite befitting of how his life will unfold later.
Thus, Janmenjay Krishna Sehgal, reluctant to cry, slightly blue, fuzzy in the mind and almost causing the disaster of his mother’s death right away, made his grand entry into this world.
P.S. Hi guys. I invite you to explore the life of Janmenjaya (Jon) with me. For starters, feel free to write a defining and powerful event / incident in the life of Jon when he is 5-6 years old. Write anything but just be consistent with the last paragraph above in terms of building Jon's character. Its an open canvas and feel free to create your own situations, places and side characters... And no word limits!
Rishikesh is hardly a place where you would question people’s rationale on anything. So when his parents, educated and modern as they were, decided to have the birth at home, like the good old days, under the watchful eyes of an octogenarian midwife of dubious credentials, nobody raised an eyebrow.
Only he decided to come out the other way ceremoniously garlanded with the umbilical cord around his neck. Of course, nobody panics in Rishikesh, the abode of Gods and he was, rather embarrassingly on a cycle rickshaw, shifted to the nearby nursing home with his mother all entangled over him and howling as if she was the only one under any discomfort.
The pediatrician in attendance completed the opening ceremony and reported that he was somewhat short on Apgar scores. He had come second in life’s first exam, quite befitting of how his life will unfold later.
Thus, Janmenjay Krishna Sehgal, reluctant to cry, slightly blue, fuzzy in the mind and almost causing the disaster of his mother’s death right away, made his grand entry into this world.
P.S. Hi guys. I invite you to explore the life of Janmenjaya (Jon) with me. For starters, feel free to write a defining and powerful event / incident in the life of Jon when he is 5-6 years old. Write anything but just be consistent with the last paragraph above in terms of building Jon's character. Its an open canvas and feel free to create your own situations, places and side characters... And no word limits!
Let It Be...
A good leader is the one
Who doesn’t lead at all.
He inspires followership.
A good follower is the one
Who doesn’t follow at all.
He merges with the flow.
A good teacher is the one
Who doesn’t teach at all.
He allows learning to reveal itself.
A good worker is the one
Who doesn’t work at all.
He enjoys his vocation.
A good actor is the one
Who doesn’t act at all.
He makes the character manifest.
A good coach is the one
Who doesn’t coach at all.
He alters the game occurence.
And often we find that in overkill
We poison the land that we so zealously till.
Pause a little, listen around
For nature’s whispers, life’s little sounds.
Life’s book is full of oxymoron
What hurts as noise is also a song.
And truth is sitting elsewhere unseen
silently at passion’s smoke screen…
Who doesn’t lead at all.
He inspires followership.
A good follower is the one
Who doesn’t follow at all.
He merges with the flow.
A good teacher is the one
Who doesn’t teach at all.
He allows learning to reveal itself.
A good worker is the one
Who doesn’t work at all.
He enjoys his vocation.
A good actor is the one
Who doesn’t act at all.
He makes the character manifest.
A good coach is the one
Who doesn’t coach at all.
He alters the game occurence.
And often we find that in overkill
We poison the land that we so zealously till.
Pause a little, listen around
For nature’s whispers, life’s little sounds.
Life’s book is full of oxymoron
What hurts as noise is also a song.
And truth is sitting elsewhere unseen
silently at passion’s smoke screen…
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Lo La - a poem
Lo la
Lola was a black widow spider
Casting a tenebrous spell
A failed dancer on stage
Danced into men’s hearts
Her gift was her curse
Charm her calling card
Destroyed lives her legacy
Tragedy following triumph
She bewitched King Ludwig
Amassed wealth
Abused power
Was exiled from the Kingdom
London Paris Munich
Different cities
Different lovers
Same old story
What compelling emotions
did she stir
That led men of power
so astray
A confidence which ensnarls
the prey
An inner radiance
drawing one near
What is your secret Lola
What makes you tick
Come back from the dead
And whisper in my ear
Lola was a black widow spider
Casting a tenebrous spell
A failed dancer on stage
Danced into men’s hearts
Her gift was her curse
Charm her calling card
Destroyed lives her legacy
Tragedy following triumph
She bewitched King Ludwig
Amassed wealth
Abused power
Was exiled from the Kingdom
London Paris Munich
Different cities
Different lovers
Same old story
What compelling emotions
did she stir
That led men of power
so astray
A confidence which ensnarls
the prey
An inner radiance
drawing one near
What is your secret Lola
What makes you tick
Come back from the dead
And whisper in my ear
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)