G doesn't think this is as good. But still...
She ask : You haven't spoken to your best friend Jalajasri for nearly two years. Do you remember what caused the rift between the two of you?
My take :
"New School !" they told me. "English medium!" , "ICSE !" , "Quality" , "Standard".. I heard them say.."New friends," They tried to convince me.. I would love it.. They were sure.. And I did not. I hated it. A class of 23 snotty 12 year olds who gave me one look and collectively dismissed me.. for wearing two plaits folded up with dark blue ribbon, for wearing my anklets over my socks, for smelling like coconut oil, and for bringing curd rice for lunch instead of cheese sandwiches. Being ignored.. For a whole month. They wouldn't look at me if I stood in their path, not that I dared to. I hated it. I hated the school. I hated them and I had begun to hate myself.
Until Jalajasri talked to me.
After a month in that horrible class, she smiled at me, and we walked home together that day, holding hands. She was kind. She didn't care what the other girls thought. She liked me the way I was, not that I knew very well.. We could talk about anything.. We had nicknames for all the snotty girls in class.. We rolled our eyes imitating them and burst out laughing.. I was finally happy. She was my best friend, my confidante, my sister almost, the best thing that had happened to me. I didn't feel miserable anymore.
Then they caught us whispering in class. I remember how the teacher stared at us, and the whole class turned to look at the two of us.. in the back bench.. "Atleast they were looking at me, finally!", I whispered to her once class resumed. I don't know whether they heard me again, coz they all stopped and stared again. The teacher looked upset when I refused to tell her who I was talking to.. As if I would betray my best friend!
Then Papa took me to the doctor. I think they thought I was mad. They said she was imaginary! Jalajasri! As if I was stupid! I don't know when I stopped talking to her.. I think it was the night Amma held me to her chest and sobbed. I didn't want her to cry. She made me promise I wouldn't talk to Jalajasri. Ever.
Until Jalajasri talked to me.
After a month in that horrible class, she smiled at me, and we walked home together that day, holding hands. She was kind. She didn't care what the other girls thought. She liked me the way I was, not that I knew very well.. We could talk about anything.. We had nicknames for all the snotty girls in class.. We rolled our eyes imitating them and burst out laughing.. I was finally happy. She was my best friend, my confidante, my sister almost, the best thing that had happened to me. I didn't feel miserable anymore.
Then they caught us whispering in class. I remember how the teacher stared at us, and the whole class turned to look at the two of us.. in the back bench.. "Atleast they were looking at me, finally!", I whispered to her once class resumed. I don't know whether they heard me again, coz they all stopped and stared again. The teacher looked upset when I refused to tell her who I was talking to.. As if I would betray my best friend!
Then Papa took me to the doctor. I think they thought I was mad. They said she was imaginary! Jalajasri! As if I was stupid! I don't know when I stopped talking to her.. I think it was the night Amma held me to her chest and sobbed. I didn't want her to cry. She made me promise I wouldn't talk to Jalajasri. Ever.
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9 comments:
for a brief moment, this was scary. i thought you were re-telling events of your life. then i read the second post. phew!
Very nice.
Hey jus went thru ur blogs, read the first one, and was kinda taken aback....
Very creative writing, way to go..
Wud go thru ur archives sometime..
Keep posting....
You are very good at this sort of thing (envy)
Ever thought of taking up 'proper' writing? (unsolicited advice)
I guess you have a comfortable 'real' job which would please 'sensible people' (open question?)
Somebody has asked me to reply to my comments :D.. And I'm using that as an excuse to overcome the embarrassment of doing the regular '@person1 : reply reply' routine.. so..
@pravin : yeah.. phew!
@citrus : thankyou so much..
@mac : you're the somebody who asked me to do this.
@sreejit: thankyou..
@unni : seriously.. :) i'm not.. (thats why i've stopped with two). But its really nice to read that you think so. My real job is something I landed coz I got lucky and i'm holding onto coz I'm lazy. :D
guess this is not a real story. well..tehn...excellent..very sensitive approach
Here's my take No:1..
Bangaloro Bonassera sat in Cochin Criminal Court Number 3 and waited for justice; vengeance on the men who had so cruelly hurt his daughter, who had tried to dishonor her. Don Vito Cochinone was understandably distressed that the ol' chap turned up at his house right when he was about to sink his teeth into the finest pudding he had ever seen. but since it was his daughter's wedding and he was never a man to let a good story go by, he pushed away his ice cream bowl and threw his famous stony gaze at Bonassera."Ask your daughter jalajasri not to weep.I'll see what i can do".The pudding was promptly consumed.
A week later i met jalajasri, chirpy and smart, in an apron, mixing a pudding for Vito (with a recipe from "Women's Era").She had apparently learnt from her dad about the Don's penchant for custard pudding. As an ol' friend , the least i could do was taste her preparation and i readily obliged. As the world spun around me and i crashed on to the floor, i let out a pang of pity for the cooking contest judges who had disqualified jalajasri, dishonouring her, hurting her pride and ended up on marine drive with a few broken body parts..I never spoke to her again.
Here's my take No:2 ..Guess this wud be inspired by Gabriel Garcia Marquez :)
Jalajasri's birth was marked by a powerful wind that swept the dreamy village. When the dust settled, the folks in the village were startled by the hundreds of plantain buds that had sprouted all over the village. The small sprouts grew up at a pace never before seen in Macondo and by the time jalajasri was 28 days old, the village had taken a yellow colour with all the millions of bananas that hung in the jungles of plantain. Ambujaakshan and Visalaakshi, her parents, were toasted through out every home in the village for producing that magical offspring.
We kids always enjoyed playing hide and seek in the grove. But when she was about 10, jalajasri became withdrawn and seemed to lose interest in the banana business.
" I think I like apples better" we heard her speaking out loudly one afternoon, in the courtyard. She stared resolutely at the wall that seperated her home from the world and then looked at the sky. Then quietly, she waved at us, flapped her wings, which we had never seen before, and was off...I never saw her again.
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