Acid

It is a shame really. The way kids are brought up one way and once they grow up, all the opposite ideas are force-fed to them.

We grow up as nationalists, being taught to always serve our country and countrymen, the poor, the desolate. Reciting Iqbal's dua everyday in assembly till we knew it by heart. 'Ho mera kaam gharibon ki himayat kerna, dardmandon se zaeefon se mohabbat kerna'.

Psycho detective mode.

Three episodes of Castle and I've turned into a squinty eyed detective myself, doubting the authenticity of stories other people have to share.

March to October- Much ado about nothing

Detached is the word I've been looking for. A few weeks here, a few months there. I no longer have an emotional attachment for my students. There's no more a sense of belonging when the hard truth of my temporary presence is known to me. Half a year later, I'll be gone from here too and though my students might feel sad (well, they claim to) I know for sure I won't be able to reciprocate the emotion.

A change in schools earlier this year brought me to an all girls school at quite a distance from home.

Ramazan

Drudging through sehri. Filling up without pausing to savor every bite. Missing the sehri some days. Praying everyday at the appointed times. Working alongside. Traveling to and from work. Watching people pass by. Patient smiles. Helping hands. Watching places pass by. Gola ganda gali. Fruit vendors. Smells of pakoras, samosas and jalebis drifting through the air. The sound of Holy verses and naats in the air. Blaring through mosque loudspeakers. Or coming beautifully from the lips of blind beggars. Nighttime tarawees. Listening to the Quran and its meaning. Nodding off to sleep at times. Standing as equals in rows during prayer. All differences aside. The soft rainfall as we fall in sujood. The cool night breeze blessing the hottest summer days. The last minute Eid shopping. Crowded roadside stalls. Blue, yellow and green strings of lights. A city so adorned.

The month of Ramazan has its own feel.

The crossing of the ways..

This Saturday, an Academic Olympiad was conducted by our organization where contestants from 12 different schools competed against each other. These 12 schools were part of the school network in which fellows from our cohort were placed. Some students from my old school were a part of the event as well and it gave me an opportunity to reunite with them.

Memorable conversations 2.0

When teaching my 4th grade about the continuity of life, I asked the students to draw their family trees. One of the students came up to me with a genuinely worried expression.

Student: Miss, main kese banaunga? Ap ko pata hai mere dada ki kitni biwiyan hain?
Me (anticipating a number between 3 and 5): Kitni?
Student: Saat, miss, saat! Unke baais bachay hain!
Me (trying not to laugh): Ap apnay family tree main sirf apnay abbu ki ammi ka likhiye ga.

Post winter break

While there was excitement before the winter break over the homework I'd given my students, to my dismay only a very small percentage of students in each of my classes completed and submitted it in time. As promised, I rewarded them with gift-wrapped pencils, erasers and magic pops (candy that pops in your mouth). It was a funny encounter with the 3rd graders. I'd called up the seven students during break and told them they were in for a thrashing. I asked them to reflect upon what it was that they had done wrong that day. They actually came up with reasons!