Tag Archives: classroom

Do You keep A Diary?

I never thought that someday I would maintain a diary, but last year I decided to pen down my thoughts (which are many) that keeps fluctuating in my mind on paper, so that I could reflect upon my past as I grow older, at the same time improve my writing skills.

From the 1st of January up till the 31st of December, I wrote all the day-to-day happenings of my life, and the happenings around me in my diary. Now, it’s 365 pages of memories that I can cherish. Let me share what I wrote on the 2nd of January, 2012. There are certain things which are very private to me, and I cannot share them all. However, the 2nd of January is an exception. So here it is reproduced:

Damn my phone! It always wakes me up when I’m least inclined to wake up. But I cannot defy what I must do just because of my laziness; therefore, I woke up at 6 o’clock in the morning, and did everything that a person do in the morning.

Then, at 12:05 in the afternoon, I reached my college, before entering the classroom I looked around to see if there were any latecomer who might accompany me to the classroom because I was late my five minutes, and, I feared the lecturer might not allow me inside the class if I was the only latecomer, and, ha! Luckily, there were some latecomer who looked disheveled and walked near me with a dizzy pace.

‘Late?’ I enquired, but I don’t know what made me ask that, I knew very well that they were late so much like I was.

‘Late, dude, late,’ answered a friend, and I nodded.

The lecturer inside the classroom was lecturing in full swing; her name was Smita Ramakrishna, one of the best teachers I met in this college, who also possess a fantastic sense of humor and a good taste in music, and she  looks some years younger than she actually is. She teaches us Managerial Accounting.  She no longer will teach us after someday, as she is moving to a better position, and is going to teaches the PG students, or so I heard.

I stood by the door and through the glass door-frame she saw me moving incoherently. The door was ajar, I pushed it a little more and said: ‘Ma’am….’ and that’s all I could say, because she made a statement: ‘31st is over, and so is the 1st.’ She kept examining me minutely, I could not understand the statement, and mulled over it for some time, then I realized that she made a satirical statement, though I wasn’t drowsy and did not appear inebriated or hung on to a celebratory mood – bidding farewell to the previous year and welcoming the present year – but I liked her statement. I’m a satirist myself. I could not help the urge of wishing her, and so, I said with a broad smile on my face: ‘Happy New Year, Ma’am!’  ‘Hahaha!’ She laughed.

‘Where is you ID?’ she asked, it was in my hand, and she answered her own question, ‘You are suppose to wear it on your neck and not on your hands.’ I quickly did what she said; she smiled and said, ‘Now, get in quickly, and latch the door.’

So that’s about it. Here are four suggestions on how to keep up a diary.

Be Honest. In-case you cannot be honest with others (which is very disgraceful), at least be honest to yourself. However, if you are honest with all, that’s wonderful. Personal bias should not creep in while writing about yourself, or your friends, or anyone else, that is to say, don’t make it a point to find all kind of virtues in yourself and faults in others.

Be Creative. Don’t just write about the everyday happenings that more or less are same, for example, some people might write ‘I went to college by train’ on the first day, and on the second day you write the same thing, and same thing on the third… so on you keep repeating, your writing experience would be mundane. That’s a very childish act, so try to use your imagination, try to write your feelings, your thoughts, etc, but make it different. You may write prose and poetry as well.

Improve you writing. After writing the day’s entry go through what you have written, find if you have made any mistake – grammatical or spelling – and  amend them, and be careful the next time.

Keep It Private. I’m talking about personal diaries. Keep your diary in a safe place, far from people. By people I mean anyone – your family or friends – with whom you don’t like to share about your private life. My brother, for instance, takes the pleasure of reading my diary, and when I get the slightest hint that he read it, I take the pleasure of scolding him and shouting at him; “Do not touch that, you buffoon!”

The advantages of maintaining a diary are many. If you are a writer or aspire to be one, you should maintain a diary and write every day, and improve your story telling skills. You can improve your handwriting as well. I don’t believe that practice makes a man perfect, my handwriting is poor I must admit, I write very roughly; I believe that perfect practice makes a man perfect, now, slowly my handwriting is improving because I’m practicing it in the right way… better late than never. But then, perfection is non-existent, so don’t waste your time to be perfect, but you can definitely be efficient.

Do you keep a diary, or intend to?

Copyright © 2013 RAMU DAS

Six Days Of Eggjam And Here I am

‘Modern college’ had been the name of the center where I had to go along with other friends – or classmates – to write the eggjam. The college changed the idea of modern which I had for quite a long time. I thought a college with such a name should have clean classrooms, air-conditioned or something like that, fashionable and stylish, ahead of times.

As I started moving in the corridor of college (modern college), all I could get was the stinking wee-wee smell, the battered  classrooms were not even close to my notion of modern ; there were no ventilation in the classrooms; the windows were all at their worst condition ; everything looked as though it wasn’t renovated for a decade or so.

The invigilator sat on the chair, her legs crisscrossed. The students kept staring at the answer papers (booklets) which were distributed to them. A very strange kind of a paper it was. In the answer sheet there were too many instructions to be followed, which I, for one, could not understand, nor could the other students, they all looked bemused. We’re all hoping that the invigilator might say something about the instructions, but she didn’t.

Time was running out of hand, suddenly some students spoke unanimously, “Ma’am, won’t you tell us anything about the instructions?”

“Oh, do I need to?” asked the invigilator, total surprised. The invigilator, then, started speaking a foreign language until the moment someone interrupted pleadingly, “Ma’am, English please!”

Soon she obliged to speak in English, but then, she was murdering English, and someone had to tell her once again, “Ma’am, please switch on to a different language, if possible, Hindi.”

She herself wasn’t aware of how to fill the instructions on the booklet, “Just give me a moment,” she said and went out to the other class room, I assume to ask the other invigilator about the instructions. She came back, told us what to do and what not to do.

While filling the instructions it took us more than twenty minutes. That meant we had to write the answers at a bullet pace ( faster than Toronto express ), out of two hours, twenty minutes were gone!

I was amazed at the skills some of my fellow examinees possessed, the skills of cheating I mean. Some wrote the answers beforehand on their fingers, on their nails, legs, toes, palms, almost everywhere. And though it was strictly prohibited to carry any kind of papers, I saw some students seemingly gleefully inserted their hands into their pockets and brought out small pieces of paper in which the font size of the letters were perhaps lesser than four. One more thing is that the students were asked not to write anything on the question papers, but who cared? They wrote it anyway, and played pass-pass with the question papers, as long as the invigilator did not see.

I heard a continuous beeping sound and looked around to find where it was coming from. A guy who sat next to me was punching the keys of his cell phone. I kept staring at him for few seconds unbelievably, “What are you looking at?” he bellowed and clutched his headgear.

“You are brave,” I commented. He smiled and clutched his headgear once again, and said boldly, “I’m a Sardar!”

Now, the invigilator heard the beeping sound and found where it was coming from, she shouted: “Yanna Rascalla!” and, with that, I knew the invigilator must be a Tamilian or a huge fan of Rajnikant, moreover she smelt of coconut and coffee as she walked past me. She got the hold of the brave Sardar’s phone, and gave a warning, which, I believe, was the first as well as the last warning.

I was writing with full concentration when all of a sudden a hulk of a man came inside the classroom, spitted paan(betel leaf combined with areca nut) stained saliva from the window of the classroom to the ground, and said boastfully and mercilessly: “ Stop writing. Time’s up!”

That took me by total surprise. At that time I didn’t even write for forty-five marks, the paper consisted of sixty marks. I think I’m amongst one of the slowest writers in the world, but then, what I write makes sense. The invigilator after collecting the other students’ paper came to me and asked to submit the paper; I was reluctant to do that. The invigilator, then, started snatching the paper from me. “Wait,” I protested, “Let me write, or else I’ll fail.”

“Give!”

“Wait!”

“Give, I said!”

“Wait, I said,” I retorted then added, “Please.”

This went on for two minutes or so. I knew all answers, but the invigilator was adamant and persisted that I should submit the paper; I had no other option left, so I gave up.

Depressed. What does my future hold?

I was depressed (still am) and all other papers (except for one) after the first paper did not go as per my expectations, I’m just hoping to get the passing mark, that’s it and nothing more.

Copyright © 2012 RAMU DAS