Wednesday, 4 September 2013

The Killer Wave

Vannakam! (Hello! in Tamil)

I was going through my archives and I came across something I wrote 2 years back. It is a retelling of events about the sea and how ferocious it can be. It is about the 2004 Tsunami that struck South India. It is about me and my mother land. This is based on a true story.

The Killer Wave

Ammu
26th December’2004, 7:00 am

I can hear the clatter of dishes as Amma washes vessels inside the hut. The sky is azure with the sun poking it’s tendrils at the horizon as if taking a peek deciding which path to follow today. The sea waves come tumbling down from great heights to break upon the shore and leave nothing but froth, which is also soon washed away. The smell of ‘karwar’* hangs around the salty air as Appa and I set down dead fishes to dry in the fast approaching sun’s rays.
My father unfastens the rope which ties our catamaran while amma and I hurry in and out of the hut to bring the paraphernalia required for his long fishing trip.
Appa sets sail. Amma returns inside while I wave as the well built fisherman reduces to just a dark speck at the horizon. We live in a small hut made up of a thatched roof and mud walls situated on one of the least inhabited islands of Nicobar.  There is lot of work to be done-the fishes have to be sorted, salted, and dried, fruits roots and spices to be collected and stored, clothes to be washed. As I go about these chores I think of my brother studying at Chennai. He said he'll be coming on a short visit soon. I think of what he might bring for me- maybe a dress hmm.. a red one will look good for the New Year. I remember those days when father used to row him to Port Blair everyday so that he could be educated, his studying under a kerosene lantern. All his efforts paid off and now he studies at a well known university.

 Ammu
26th December’2004, 9:00 am

“Hmm..hmm..hmmm”, I hum as I sat outside sorting the fish. Amma is mending the fishing net. It gives me immense tranquility to see the mighty green sea lapping at my feet. It is a rhythmic pattern, the departure of one wave hails the arrival of another. The coconut tree leaves dance to the tune of the breeze. The sun sheds its protective gaze over us. It is a wonderful morning, calm and serene.
Suddenly, the earth trembled; the waves at my feet receded, leaving nothing but wet sand with fishes helplessly jumping here and there. It was like the sea, an old friend was angry with me therefore sulking in the corner. In all my years I had never seen anything like this though, I’d heard the elders talk about the sea unleashing her wrath when humans were disrespectful towards her.
 I was overjoyed seeing all these fishes splashing about in the puddles. These fish could last us a long time, we could make lots of profit from this. I ran jubilantly barefoot right into the marshy land. I tried to collect as many fishes as I could in my little arms.
The ground roared. I trembled. It was a totally new sound. Did my sea let loose such a terrible sound?
My mother screamed, flailing her arms in an indication for me to run. The sea roared again sending a chill down my spine. I turned to the horizon to see a monstrous grey wave surging towards me. It rushed forth like a humongous wall coming closer by the second.
I was completely numb, my senses had deserted me. The fishes in my arms toppled to the ground. My feet were rooted to the ground. 
Another roar.
“Aaaaaaah….,” I ran forgetting the fish. All hell broke loose.  Amma was waiting for me, she grabbed my thin little hand and we ran and ran and ran, not knowing where to take shelter.
The impact was tremendous, as if an elephant had slammed head first into me. It punched out all the air from my lungs. I filled in a big mouthful of air. I was pushed under water. My once a faithful companion-the sea now tossed and turned me in its polluted waters. Amma was wrenched away from me by this monster. It left me unaided, desolate, solitary in my grief. My lungs were burning. I tried to resurface. I broke the water surface and gasped for air.
Anna
26th December 2004, 10:00am
“News headlines”
I gasped. Suddenly, I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. I wanted to run but my legs were transfixed to the same spot. My breathing became heavy and labored. I gazed fixedly at the television screen, the images horrifying me more and more as time passed. I slowly sagged into a nearby chair. The reporter’s voice was fading away. Images flooded my mind- Amma, Appa, and Ammu all thrown by the ferocity of the sea. Our hut crushed, the catamaran shattered.Tears welled up in my eyes. I decided. I had to somehow make sure my family was safe, that my tribe be saved. I had to somehow get to my island to help them. “Karthik, Ashok, Jeet,”I called out to my friends. They came running. I discussed the matter with them. At first though frightened they soon started making arrangements for the rescue.

Ammu
Endless time

The unruly sun glares down at me. It’s greedy, hot rays usurping my body’s valuable moisture. I drift slowly into consciousness. My throat is parched and feels like sandpaper. My arms are decorated with marks of black and blue with an occasional cut of red. I can hardly move. Every inch of my body is sore and feels too heavy to lift. Blood cracks on my forehead as I turn to look at the surroundings. The lapping of waves is the only sound I can hear. Grayish muddy water with metallic scrap, planks, human possessions is all I can see around my raft. Sometimes I’ve spotted the carcass of an animal. I wonder what happened to Amma, Appa, and the situation with Anna. The days are steamy while the night is when all hope deserts me. I can hear the howling of distress from the sea. The waves are my only companions 2 cockroaches and a few worms are my co-passengers. I’m distressed, desolate, and melancholy.

Anna
31st December’2004, 6:45 pm

It’s been 5 days since my friends, a few volunteers and I started the search for my family. We haven’t found anybody yet. Hopelessness, despair, and shock has spread all around the globe following day before yesterday’s tsunami. Thousands have been reported dead and missing. My teammates have been talking of pulling off the search but in my heart I still have a ray of hope and I say, “No, not yet.” As we scan the Indian Ocean we have seen debris of human possession, death and more death. It pains me to think or to hear because all of them are flooded with the same thought, despair. I shall not give up.
The other day we reached my island to see nothing but destruction. Our hut was gone; the whole hamlet was wiped out. My eyes were dry. The wind bellowed past me.  A hole had been punched through my heart which had once been occupied by my family, friends.
Now as we returned to main land I think of how the whole village would have celebrated today and tomorrow for the New Year. I wonder whether my sister would have liked her new dress – it’s still in my closet.
I hear shouts from the front boat – may be they spotted somebody. A spark of hope lightens us as I run to the front. It’s a small girl on a plank. She looked haggard. As we came up close I noticed her face was swollen and puffy. I rushed forward and leaned to pick her up. I was numb. I couldn't speak. My heart was flooding with joy.
 The girl in my arms was my little sister, Ammu.
“Ammu, Ammu,” I cried out. My sister was back. I’d done it! We’d done it! We’d found my little sister! We sped towards the coast. I relaxed. Fate had finally united us. I was at glad to have found her. Thank you god, thank you!

Ammu
1st January’2005, 7:00am

“Ammu, Ammu,” a voice soothingly called out my name. I did not want to open my eyes for they burned, my head was pounding slightly. The linen was soft and I was warm and smug inside it. Why couldn't they let me sleep?
“Ammu.” I cracked one eye open. White, white everywhere. The walls, the bed spreads, it all felt detached. Tubes went in and out of me carrying different colored liquids.
Both my eyes popped both my eyes open. Anna, my dearest brother was sitting by my side. “Anna, oh Anna!” I cried out.    We hugged and cried in each other’s arms. Happy beyond anything we’d ever been. Happy to have each other.
Love is all that joins the whole world. We sleep easily In the soft arms of clichés- be ready for the worst, hope for the best, don’t waste time thinking about the unthinkable. What happened here in our lives shook the very foundation of these euphemistic assumptions. No amount of planning, No skill, speculations can stop a force that moves the earth and our lives.  




[1]*karwad – dried salted fish.

Friday, 16 August 2013

Irish literature, Debating Doping & Gambling

Dia duit! 

(If you're wondering what that means: its 'Hi' in Irish - or that's what Google Translate taught me!) 

Well this post is going to be interesting, just like my very interesting life... 

You must be wondering - Irish (? is it not supposed to be Gaelic?) literature (can Irish even be written?) ... Okaaay ... debating is understandable that's natural for you, you do it on a regular basis ... but what on earth is a girl (?) gambling for???

Well, that is life in IB for you: everyday is a surprise!

Well, my day started with completing my Math Portfolio which mathematically a dice game between some two people called Ann and Bob (Could someone be more imaginative? well I gave them the relationship of being bickering and quite competitive siblings - like my brother and I). And then the gambling part comes in where we have to adapt this 'innocent' game between siblings to that of a casino and a bank - whoa what fun! I really had fun - from knowing practically nothing about gambling, casinos, or what a bank in a casino is I now know quite a lot! Well, it is very interesting. Moreover, new knowledge and I can be called the Venus flytrap and the burger (did you know that a Venus flytrap can eat a whole foot-long in one go - I got that from the lid of Snapple at Subway®).That is where I gambled virtually. 

Math, new knowledge and me = a very excited me!

Next, answering probably the most potent question from the title - Irish Literature; the answer to that is a name - Sean O'Casey!

Sean O'Casey the playwright whose work I have most recently fallen in love with. Oh what a great writer he is. We, in literature class, are currently reading his 'Juno and the Paycock' something very Irish, very heartwarming at the same time heart burning and passionately written!
Well I will definitely be writing more about this!

Now, the last question - Debatin' Dopin'?
Cad é an hell tarlú? Cén fáth?

Well I am happy to say that I am back to my greatest passion - debating on a competition level. I participated with my team of 3, today, in the 1st round of the British Council Debating Matters 2013. The topic we were debating was - Allowing use of performance enhancement drugs will undermine the spirit of sports. That is where the doping fits in. We debated about the moral, ethical, and legal impacts of allowing doping, and who decides what is doping etc. You will probably be seeing the next post discussing the same.It was really interesting and what was more was that it ignited the same spark in me as it always does, jolting me to do something nobody can beat me at. 

Tadaaa... Bye then! Will be coming up soon with the Premier of the very first serious article on this personal blog!



Sunday, 11 August 2013

College Applications and Capitalism

It sure is a capitalistic world out there.

Everything about universities and college seems to be capitalistic: right from their college applications to the course fees.

The college apps say:

1. Tell us about yourself  (600 characters inclusive spaces)
2. If you graduate before March 2014 say what you plan to do (300 characters inclusive of spaces)

Woah! How am I supposed to put ALL about myself in just 600 characters, the inclusion of spaces practically makes the supposedly HUGE figure of 600 characters 6 lines. It freaking even counts punctuation. What could I possibly say to universities about 9 MONTHS after my graduation in 300 characters????

(Me fuming...)

Yeah...

Well, now that I got all that out of my system.

I think it actually is great. It prevents the 'applicants' to keep track of what they are actually writing and not go off on total tangents. This helps keep their (and definitely my) head out of the clouds. (Yeah I could not write about my plan to make a space craft this summer and my plan to climb Mt. Everest and my plan to make a village self sustainable and make clean energy accessible to the previously dark village)
Well that cut down my dreams, and my language by quiet a lot.



I am running out of steam now. Got a lot to do now. Finishing and submitting my Extended Essay tomorrow so wish me luck....

Will finish the post later.

The fumes are condensing now.
Srishti 

Friday, 2 August 2013

Constants

There are few constants in the universe - death, taxes and an IB student complaining about how much work they have to do. This is the first week of August coming to an end - my 16years of life on this enigmatic planet, the memory on my DropBox account and most importantly my IB internals.

I can not express how very relieved I am to be saying this - MY IB INTERNALS ARE OVERRRRRR!!!!

I just want to shout it out to the world. However, as my IBDP draws to an end I am left with a bitter-sweet feeling. Despite working so very hard, I made discoveries and invented new 'things'.Things that will always be a part of me.

Finally, after hours of toiling in the labs and behind computer screens  performing a range of tasks - titrating EDTA with milk samples waiting for miracle to strike and the colour to change from red to blue, making parachutes,launching them and watching them fly, making antennae to catch WiFi signals, analysing Shakespeare, Plath, Sophocles,Fo; and the best (or the most nerve wracking) trying to find trends by analysing Imaginary numbers and dice games. 

While my classmates writhe just barely pulling through, here I am DONE! 
In the next few posts I shall be talking about (or rather complaining about- as is the norm for an IB student) my experiences with my dearest constant in life - IB students and their work.

Cheers for hearing me rant out!

Until next time

Ciao
Srishti 

Me during my parachute lab for PhysicsHL


Thursday, 25 July 2013


Beware! Purple finger syndrome is on the loose!

The purple finger syndrome is a rare yet deadly disease that is now pandemic among the students of the International Baccalaureate Diploma Programme Chemistry. Discovered when a blast shook a student’s reaction and sprayed him with the deadly toxic compound that seems to be the origin of the syndrome.

A very worried student, infected with this hitherto unprecedented disease, Divya Patel laments ‘Now I do not know what is happening to me! My fingers are turning purple and this is gradually spreading all over my body!’ This unknown enigmatic syndrome is causing a maelstrom of questions to be raised, the students now fear for their lives! While the chemistry lab assistants and their teachers scramble to figure out this new scientific enigma, the school is in doldrums.  The only known features of this mysterious disease is that it causes your fingers to become purple and thus its name, it is feared to be highly infectious and cause explosions around the person affected. This stems from many an apparatus exploding in the chemistry lab during the experiment that gave birth to this inexplicable malady.