karvan may 2014| - azim premji...

1K a r v a n | M a y 2 0 1 4

...there ain’t no journey what don’t change you

some. “-David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas

“ Editorial Team

Ranjani Polepeddi

Lijya Perayil

Sandhya Shankar

Lalateindu Chhura

Aditya Gawande

Lakshmi Narayana G

Ashish Koshi

From the

Dear Readers,

Karvan turns three this year! We are thrilled to see that this toddler’s

family is growing by the year.

Initiated by the First batch and nurtured by the Second, taken forward

by the Third, ‘Karvan’, as its name suggests, carries tales of the

journeys that we make through the year as individuals and as a group

united by a cause.

This year, Karvan is a humble attempt at bringing together a year of:

• Finding reasons to celebrate together every now and then.

• Events that bring in a fresh breath of fun between the bundles

of assignments.

• Fond memories of running between the canteen and the

classroom.

• Thoughts evoked by deep conversations at practicums, in

classrooms, over chai and just about anywhere else.

• And experiences that now have a new meaning with fresh

perspectives.

We would like to thank all the contributors and supporters of

Karvan who continue to fuel our journey. Please send your

suggestions, contributions (in any language) and comments to us at

[email protected]

We hope you enjoy your journey with our very own Karvan.

Warmly,

Ranjani Polepeddi

Editor

2 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y 3K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4

Message FroM s. giridhar

It is mid April 2014 as I write this and I realize that I am already preparing to say “goodbye, but we will

keep in touch” to students of the 2012 batch. The two years seem to have zipped past and already

the 2013 batch are veterans preparing to enter their second year. We now have 390 students on

campus and come July 2014 we will be 600 students. Remember we started with 85 in July 2011.

Are we retaining that warmth, that spirit of adventure, that conviction and that innocence with which

we began? I have asked myself this question many times because for a University with our kind of

clear social purpose, the spirit and culture we build and retain at our University is all too important.

Are we building a student community that is truly integrated; that embraces the unique diversity that

we strive to have; that demonstrates the spirit of sharing and caring for each other? If we have to

answer each of these questions with a “yes”, day after day and year after year, it will require each

one of us to live and breathe the values and vision of the University. We must.

I know the cycles of classes, assignments, practicum and so on can leave students breathless at

times, but what is good to see is how we make time for other equally important facets of the learning

experience in the University. And so for instance – and I only use one example as an illustration -

when the students form PAHAL, the club that is committed to environmental consciousness and responsibility, create a groundswell of opinion

for the recycling of cups or campaign to minimize wastage of food or to restore a vanishing lake, one feels so happy. Equally so when the Quiz

club organizes its wonderful quizzes that always have their unique charm.

Our first batch came for their convocation in October 2013. It was quite simply a memorable event for the elegance and simplicity with which

we conveyed the spirit and purpose of our University. We now look forward to the 2nd convocation, sometime around August/ September 2014.

The wonderful thing for people like me – the members of the University – is that we get re-energized by every batch. There is always a sense

of missing you as you graduate and leave, but even before we can feel that too much, we are celebrating the arrival of the new batch, with its

own unique talents. So we remember “Konappanagrahara anthem” that the first batch gave us, the musical highlight of Ritu and Shahzeb at

the convocation and of course similar gifts that every batch will bestow on the University even as we look forward to new treasures.

But somewhere I also find myself in a vortex of disquiet. Why do only a handful of students attend the Independence Day or Republic Day

celebration? Why do only a handful of students come to cheer their colleagues as they play a cliffhanger cricket match with the faculty? When

open houses are conducted – mostly to discuss issues that are central to student life at the University – why are quite a few students absent?

Why is attendance consistently low as I discovered in recent times? Why do not all students participate in good numbers in their own club

activities? Why do I get a feeling that somewhere along the way, a sense of entitlement and taking for granted is beginning to pervade. Perhaps

we could all introspect and do whatever is necessary to correct the trend.

Our programs are designed to prepare people who are committed to working in the social sector, are passionate about making a difference to

the world in which they live and have the capabilities to translate these desires into effective action. We believe these two years of learning build

upon the students’ inherent motivation so that they can go out and make a genuine difference to India. Perhaps Placement time is when we

can see whether we are realizing these goals. Last year virtually every student interested in placement was placed. Over 75% of the students

went out to grass root organizations and field institutions, something that resonates with the overarching purpose of the University. We have to

see how things pan out this year. Since this column is a personal column, I have the licence to say that it concerns me when students make

a choice based only on the location (read a metro city) or the compensation. However if the choice is based on the ‘kind of work I wish to do’

that is completely different.

I wish all our 2012 batch graduates the best of luck and look forward to keeping in touch with them in the future. As you know, all our students

retain their @apu.edu.in email Id which for us is an important element of this continued association.

For the batch of 2013 that will move into its second year, the responsibility is to welcome the new batch with warmth, kindness and friendship;

help them settle in so well that we have a truly integrated student community both at the hostels and at the University campus. Skepticism and

cynicism are easy. Idealism, belief in goodness and values are difficult but infinitely more fulfilling and rewarding.

ContentsMESSAGES

From S. Giridhar 03

From Anurag Behar 04

LIFE AT THE UNIVERSITY

The Stage is yours 06

The Bangalore walk 07

Pahal 08

Photography - Discovered 09

Celebrating diversity 10

Sports at Azim Premji University 14

Annual curiosity conference 15

Unmukt Photo Essay 16

The first and the last time 18

We asked our seniors 19

EXPRESSIONS

You know you are 24

Abiding strings 25

What do you mean 26

My tryst with education 27

Paper to visuals 28

What Practicums 29

A life away 30

IN VERSE 31Selected Poems from Azim Premji University Students

My experiences with Vikasana 42

On being a teacher 43

Reflections 44

A fragrant memory 45

A Sea story 45

Cuckoo’s Birthday 47

Instant coffee 48

4 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y

life at theUNIVERSITY

Message FroM anurag Behar

In a village 40 km from Barmer, in a school amidst sand dunes, what I saw was remarkable. It was

a water harvesting pit some 25 feet in diameter. The school has three inter-connected tanks, which

stored water that was collected from the pit and many other places (including the roof top) of the

school. The water usage system was as thoughtfully designed, e.g. the water from washing hands

is used in the toilets. They take care of their entire year’s water needs. The whole system has been

designed and implemented by the team of teachers at the school. The team is equally energetic on

educational issues.

A team from the Foundation works with this school. The experience is equally enriching on both

sides. Participating in this experience is a student who graduated in the first batch of the University.

His immersion in such experiences is wonderful; I am sure his batch-mates are going through similar

experiences across the country in different organizations (or on their own), learning and contributing.

As the second batch is about to graduate, and go out to similar experiences, I thought I would share

a few thoughts about “working”……in my experience these are relevant, no matter where you are

and what you do……

1. Building and nurturing human relationships is often more important than proving a point or “being right”, and at the core of it is a genuine

concern for people that one works with.

2. Humility is a much underrated quality; it helps both in learning and making friends…..and eventually in being effective…..aside from its

intrinsic importance.

3. Reality is what it is, one has to understand it, and then work to change it; don’t be critical of people..…..you must mentally (and with friends)

critique, but to change things you have to be constructive in action and feeling.

4. Taking the initiative and taking responsibility, unasked for and uncalled for, is what changes things.

5. Integrity, good-humour and energy have no substitute…..we should try to be energy-givers to those whom we work with, not energy-sappers.

All of you became a part of this institution, because you resonate with its purpose – to contribute directly to a just, equitable, humane and

sustainable society.

We know that it’s unlikely that we will achieve this purpose, while we work. But giving it our best shot is what we must do. Every step in that

direction brings us closer. And this bridging of the gap is what will make sure that those who are at it after us will achieve the purpose in full

measure.

Wishing you all the best!


Symbiosis Institute, Bangalore Campus at 8 in

the morning was a fresh sight. They had a neat

lawn, beautiful flowers of different colours and the

monsoon had just set in. The atmosphere couldn’t

have smelt nicer. I, however, was not feeling as bright. It

was a week since I had come to Azim Premji University and

my initial excitement was beginning to ebb away. People

had started settling into their places and as a late bloomer;

I still had not found mine. Nevertheless, I had trudged that

morning, along with other folks in my group, to the Symbiosis

campus for a theatre workshop as part of our orientation.

Once we had gathered in our allotted groups, I noticed one

familiar face and felt a relief that cannot be put into words.

I went and stood near Raji and she greeted me with a hug.

She was in the middle of a conversation with her previous

colleagues, none of whom I had seen before that morning.

I stood by quietly, listening to all that was said. Soon we

had to go inside, with our respective groups, and then our

instructor for the next two days walked in. He had a friendly

face and a bright smile. I was already feeling better about

the day. Anand, as he introduced himself later, didn’t say a

word. Instead, he placed four items on the floor in a square

and gestured for us to gather around. We were to introduce

ourselves, saying a piece while picking up each object. My

first reaction was apprehension and I was dreading my turn.

I had stage fright and always lost my words in front of a large

group. Finally, when it was my turn, I walked slowly towards

the items and stammered my details. Anand must have

noticed it because for the next activity, he picked me to lead.

It was a trust exercise where we had to hold the shoulders

of another person, close our eyes and follow them wherever

they want. I was the one everyone had to follow. At the end of

the activity, everyone had something to say about this novel

experience. It was a clear ice-breaker. The activities that

followed were fun and I could feel myself loosen up, despite

having all eyes on me. But the real challenge was posed after

lunch. We had to stand in the centre of the room and have

a random, spontaneous conversation with another person. I

was unable to say anything more than a monosyllable without

taking a full minute. When it was break time, Anand came up

to me to ask what happened to me. Embarrassed, I told him

my problem. In his manner, he brushed it off saying it was all

in my head and that I was a natural. I took that as praise that

I did not deserve. But I could see some truth in it the next day.

We were going to end the two-day workshop with a street play

performance. After discussing the story and the dialogues

(Anand showed us the entire play as a mono-act, which

was brilliant), we decided on characters. There was a scene

where the protagonist was ragged by a couple of goons. We

already had one and nobody else seemed keen on the role.

When I stepped up for it, Anand playfully said there couldn’t

be a better person for the role. I had a blast practicing and

coming up with cool goon-like dialogues to eve-tease. I also

got compliments from my group-mates about how authentic

I seemed. There were even jokes about me finding my skin.

But I was still nervous about the stage. When it was time

for us to perform, I felt an excitement I had not felt on stage

before. I hiked up my collar, gave the protagonist a smug

look and spontaneously delivered a dialogue. The audience

laughed (though they laughed harder at her retort). I felt really

good about myself in front of all those people I didn’t know.

Fear lost out.

THE STAGEIS YOURSSandhya, M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15

We already had one and nobody else seemed keen on that role. When I stepped up for it, Anand playfully said there couldn’t be a better person for the role. ”

The University had put us into random groups

to promote interaction and bonding among the

students through a fun outing into the city. Many

of us were getting our first chance at exploring

the city. Quite a few of the students stuck to their assigned

groups and destinations and had a great time through the

walk. However, some of us, united by the religion of food and

wanderlust, got together to explore the food scene in the city.

A group of us, who barely knew each other beyond names

and cordial “Hi’s!” headed to Mosque Road and Frazer town

to experience the celebration of Iftar food on the last Friday

before Id.

Some of us sworn non-vegetarians, some solemn vegetarians,

and one of us who was under the illusion that she was a

vegetarian. While tasting delicacies from Hyderabad and Lucknow, I also got a taste of being with these amazing people who I knew I would go to if I were in need – to eat, talk, chill, think aloud, sing and remind each other about assignments! I vividly remember the bus rides to and from Shantinagar. On the way to the stop, we were all in the “So where are you from?” mode…and on our way back, we comfortably slipped into “Arre pata hai hum college mein kya karte the…” mode. I came back to my room very stuffed and happy that night, knowing that the real craziness would start on the following Monday – Day 1 of our semester.

After all, as the title suggests, it wasn’t about the destination, it was about the journey with new people who go on to become some of your closest friends on campus and in this city.

THE BANGALOREWALKRanjani Polepeddi, M.A. Education, ’13 – ’15

OVERCOMING FEARS

DURING ORIENTATION


With the objective of practising the values and ideas

discussed in our classrooms, this club was initiated to provide

a valuable platform for volunteers to engage in creating

enabling environments and taking steps towards building

a just, equitable, sustainable and humane society through

campaigns and other activities.

The club had initiated action on curbing wastage of food and

considerable success has been achieved on this front, thanks

to the “Kachara Crusaders” of Pahal. This team came up with

an innovative idea to sensitize students, faculty and support

staff about the wasteful usage of paper cups and paper plates.

As part of the waste management and reduction initiative,

the team segregated and collected used paper cups over a

week and created an installation out of the same. This was

the team’s way of sensitizing and raising awareness within

the student community. They showed that in just a week, the

entire University community had thrown away 2,462 cups

(equivalent to 8.7 kg). This amounts to approximately 10,833

cups (38 kg) in a month and 54,165 cups (190 kg) in a year!

This led to a large number of students signing up for reusable

cups. The team is taking efforts towards keeping this practise

going. For further waste management work inside campus,

the club is tying up with Reap Benefit, an organisation that

facilitates waste reduction and management programmes in

institutions.

Some of the club members, with the help of committed

volunteers are teaching children of the construction labourers

living on the campus about waste management. About 16

students (aged 10-14 yrs) regularly attend the classes. The

volunteers for this school initiative designed the syllabus with

the help of two faculty mentors and have driven this program

to make it functional. The team at the education initiative

are working hard hoping to make a small difference in this

enormous world of ours.

PAHAL- THE CLUB FOR SOCIAL INITIATIVES

Display of used paper cups at the foyer area, Pixel B

Creating posters for awareness campaigns on wastage reduction.

- From Pahal

- From Pixelz

Other future activities include: organizing a Blood donation

camp, an RTI Workshop, an interaction with construction

workers and the “Save Water, Save Electricity” campaign on

campus.

Members of University family are welcome to suggest or

initiate relevant ideas / issues through the club. The core

members of the club will discuss the same and try to plan an

intervention. The club is under the guidance of Professor Sujit

Sinha, the faculty mentor of the club.

What is Photography?

It is “Playing with Light”, which is the source of life

on earth. With the help of all the enthusiastic clickers

on campus we formed ‘Pixelz’- the Photography

Club at Azim Premji University on 25th November, 2013.

Pixelz was the most awaited club at the University. With a

strength of 15 at the moment, we look forward for a more

passionate bunch of ‘Clickers’. ‘Pixelz’ had organized Photo

exhibitions in the University on ‘World Aids Day’ and on

the college Cultural Fest ‘Unmukt-14’. The club had

organized a Photography workshop, conducted by Suhas

Premkumar, the well-known wildlife photographer, whose photos

have featured in the National Geographic Magazine’s International

sections. Going ahead, we are planning some interesting photo-

walks for the passionate photographers on campus. Some interesting

theme based Photo contests are also being planned for the

forthcoming semesters. So get your cameras ready folks!

Find the Club website at https://sites.google.com/a/apu.edu.in/pixelz/

PHOTOGRAPHY: DISCOVERED...

Comic by: Asif Akhtar

The broad aim of the club is to get involved in social initiatives within and outside the campus.


At Azim Premji University we soaked in the diversity that this place offered. Students come from small towns,

villages and cities from across the country to learn and be together. You have to see it to believe it.

We’ve heard so many languages being spoken around us. And the joy on one’s face on having found

someone from his/her native town which allowed one to converse in one’s own language are moments of such

delight that we at the University absolutely love!

Almost every day in the Indian calendar is a festival or rather we make a festival of every day. With the diversity that enriches

the University, we have come together and seen various festivals being celebrated with food, pomp, good cheer and laughter!

The beginning of the academic session presented itself with the celebration of Independence Day on 15th August 2013. We

hoisted the national flag in the morning followed by a short cultural program of music and inspiring poems recited by some

students and a few professors. The rest of the day saw exciting workshops like clay modelling and face painting.

CELEBRATING DIVERSITY

Onam was celebrated at the University with a lovely pookalam in the Foyer area and the traditional sarees and mundu which students were delighted to wear.

Diwali was celebrated at the hostels with sweets, good food, music and a lot of dancing.

- From Lijya Perayil, M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15

12 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y 13

Children’s day was celebrated with the little children from around our campus

And festivals cannot be complete without our mesmerizing music makers..

Then one day we came and we saw …

A beautiful folk painting from Odisha drawn by Manjari Samal, one of our classmates at University! It was the Story of Jhoti Chita: when during the harvest festival the mud walls and floors are decorated with murals in white rice paste or pithau. We learnt that this is drawn not just for the purposes of decorating the house, but to establish a relationship between the mystical and the material symbolizing how the culture of Odisha is deeply embedded with the earth.

We came back to University for the second semester and celebrated Republic day on 26th of January 2014.

And the epic test of strength..

Can your cycle get any slower?

Repu

blic

Day

cel

ebra

tion

Tie and dye workshops!

As we wrap up this academic year at the University, we look forward to a host of celebrations in the following year with the incoming batch.

Splashes of Colour.. And there you go!

While Gudhi Padwa was celebrated at the hostels on 31st March, 2014 by distribution of sweets and best wishes for the Marathi New year, the spirit of Ugaadi / Yugaadi (Kannada and Telugu New Year) was shared with the student fraternity on 1st April by preparing and sharing the quintessential Ugaadi preparation – the Ugaadi Pachchadi (from Andhra Pradesh)

K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4


SPORTS AT AZIM PREMJI UNIVERSITY

Football (Girls) : Winning team – Batch of ’12 – ‘14

Badminton (Mixed Doubles) : Prelims

Shoot to unwind – Basket Ball on campus.

The Centre for curiosity was started as a means

to engage in trans-disciplinary research into the

concept of ‘curiosity’ with the specific purpose of

creating curricular tools for teachers and students.

“Curiosity” in its most basic form draws our attention to

things that are interesting. But while this may appear simple,

curiosity is also a deeper and more complex phenomenon

capable of playing a critical role in the pursuit of a meaningful

life. By being curious, we explore. By exploring, we discover.

The Centre for Curiosity’s mission is driven by three

intertwined questions:

• What is curiosity and how is it measured?

• How does one “trigger” curiosity?

• What curricular tools can be developed as related to

curiosity?

The Centre for curiosity seeks to answer these key questions

by creating a team of scholars, artists, practitioners, and

technologists who can develop research insights into curiosity

as well as find methods to effectively implement these

research findings in schools.

On the 28th of February 2014, the Azim Premji University

students and teachers came together with NGO and

private sector innovators to host the First Annual Curiosity

Conference. Organized by Arjun Shankar and first year

students, Ranjani Polepeddi, Nanak Bhatia, Shubhrata Das,

Divya Joseph, and Divya Subramaniam, the conference

sought to explore two central questions: First, how do we

harness and release the natural curiosity of our students?

Second, how might developing curiosity help to improve

classroom learning? The idea behind the conference, funded

by the Center for Curiosity, was to bring together ‘curious

people’ to investigate a concept which remains understudied

in the academic disciplines and, we believe, holds great

possibilities for changing how we think about education in

India.

Distinguished panelists discussed curiosity from a diverse

array of perspectives including cognition, story-telling,

pedagogy, emotions, entrepreneurship, challenges in school

settings and ethics. The final presentation by Bruce Lee

Mani, of Thermal and a Quarter Band, brought questions of

musical education and curiosity together. Ritu & Shahzeb, our

in-house musicians pushed their creativity (a manifestation

of curiosity) by thrilling the audience with their remarkable

spontaneous performance. Finally, guests were invited to

view a ‘curious’ photo exhibit of photographs taken by 8th

and 9th standard students from Government High School at

Kadajakasandra, located 50km outside of Bangalore.

“Thank you for organizing the Conference and giving us all an

opportunity to be more curious. It was great to learn about so

many things so differently”, said Nitu, an Education student

who attended the conference. “The interaction between

attendees and speakers was rich and stimulating.” said Mr.

K.K.Subramaniam of Shikshana foundation who made a

presentation at the conference.

Looking forward to next year’s conference, we hope

to continue developing a space where members of the

University community at all levels – administrators, students,

and professors – can work together to think about how

education can look differently in the 21st Century and how

we can bridge our practical and intellectual concerns towards

educational change. As part of our ongoing activities, the

Center for Curiosity is building a ‘Curiosity Curriculum’

that highlights how teachers can promote curiosity in their

students while teaching the CBSE curriculum.

For more information and to find ways to get involved please visit: www.centerforcuriosity.com or contact Arjun Shankar @([email protected]).

THE FIRST ANNUAL CURIOSITY CONFERENCE

- CFC Team

K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4


UNMUKT – ’14 PHOTO ESSAY

We celebrated our annual college festival,

‘Unmukt – ‘14’ on 21st and 22nd February,

2014. The spirit of Unmukt brought

everyone to life and broke the monotony of

assignments and classes. Most importantly, it brought us all

together in celebration. Guest lectures, workshops, music,

song and dance, drama, food stalls, we had it all! Here, we

present a few glimpses of the many fantastic performances

and innumerable moments of laughter and fun.

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- Ranjani Polepeddi, M.A. Education, ’13 – ’15

Imagining the beautiful

Bringing the lady to life

A presentation by Akram Feroze about his experiences across the country

DAY 1The Unmukt lady

Unveiling of Unmukt

Photography exhibition put up by PIXELZ

Celluloid Mela by the Celluloid club

Pottery workshop

Lantern making workshop

Finger puppets at the stalls

Apart from other items, jewellery made of sheets from old magazines

Khao aur khilao! We all love a good dish

Konappana Agrahara!! - keep a tradition alive.

Festivity fills the air!!

Sharanya Das (M.A. Dev ’12-’14) performing Odissi

Pushkar (M.A.Education 2013-15) performing Belly Dance

DAY 2 Pottery workshop continues

'The Odiya stall - Colour and Elegance!

Arre O Jumme! Have feet, will dance!

'Savitribai Phule', the book launch and the monologue

At the Dance Workshop - looking for the right feet

Ritu & Shahzeb – our star musicians performing for the last time

Photo credits: Keerti Bhandary (M.A. Dev ’13 – ’15), Nitu Bahal (M.A. Edu ’13 – ’15), Adeeba Rao (M.A. Edu ’13 – ’15)

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K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4


It was September 2013, and I was getting anxious. Friends

from all over the country were finally coming back to

Bangalore for one big bash - our convocation. This was

to be the first convocation of the Azim Premji University,

and everyone associated was excited, nervous and frantic...

This would be the first time that my friends from University

and I would be all together, since we had graduated. But

then it dawned on me that it would also be the last time.

Sure, we would meet now and then but it would never be all

of us again. Never the whole gang again. Never the mad rag-

tag bunch of educationists and developmentalists (can we

call ourselves that?) under the same roof ever again. It was

therefore bittersweet, with smiles quickly getting drenched

with tears. The joy of meeting dear friends after so long,

instantly turning into questions of when we would meet again.

The Convocation ceremony was made memorable by

performances from Ritu and Shahzeb, who are exceptional

musicians who serenaded us every day (did you two ever

attend your classes?) through our last year in University...

Parents, siblings, and friends filled in the places. It was a

gorgeous auditorium, and everything was perfect thanks to

our junior batch and the ever diligent organizing team pulling

strings behind the scenes. Speeches were given, names

were mispronounced, degrees were handed out and dinner

was served. And it was over all too soon. What I remember

most was the spontaneous singing session that started as

soon as the important people had left. And that, in a nutshell,

is exactly what the Azim Premji University’s first batch was

all about. We might not be fantastic singers but we will sing.

We might not be field experts but we will learn. We might

not be dancers but we will dance (in moving buses too!). We

might not be academics but we will read and write our way

into those academic journals so that one day someone’s

Development Imagination term paper will have P.Dhal, 2016

in parentheses.

When I think back about the convocation, I am happy. It was

the final goodbye to everyone that made University a special

place for us; batch-mates, juniors, teachers, and everyone

else who I can’t list out here. It was the perfect finish to what

has been an amazing two years in my life. And like life in Azim

Premji University, we didn’t want it to end. The lessons we

learnt as well as the ones we didn’t will shape us forever and

hopefully we won’t cry so much when we meet again.

So here’s to you, batch of 2013! Namme Apupans! May the

madness continue forever!

THE FIRST AND THE LAST TIME

Photo credit: Nitu Bahal

- Ashish Koshi, ’11 - ’13

“I’ll miss the chit-chats over tea and coffee with

professors....I’ll miss laughing with Indira ma’am, Indrani’s

feedback being more than my assignment, discussions with

Prakash on movies, random conversations with Rahul and Anil

sir, Sujatha ma’am’s encouragement, Jyothsna’s guidance,

Amman’s and Namita’s eye-opening lectures, Shailaja and

Rajashree ma’am’s animated lessons, Jane’s and Ankur’s

sweet smiles, Sujith sir’s laugh, Rishi’s and Sindhu’s detailed

emails......I’ll miss them all.....:) ”

Ritika Chawla (M.A. Education)Shashi Bhushan Kumar

(M.A. Education)

“THAT ONE THING ABOUT THE UNIVERSITY…”

“The intellectual storehouse that are the students and

the faculty. Something we could tap

into at any time and come out satisfied and stimulated.” R. Sridhar Rao (M.A. Development)

“Azim Premji University : ‘That which does not kill us makes us stronger’ -

Friedrich Nietzsche (and Kelly Clarkson)”

Vibha Sequeira (M.A. Education)

“If only life itself was as amazing as it is at

Azim Premji University. Or perhaps henceforth

we could make it :)”

Lavanya Murali (M.A. Education)

“That one thing about Azim Premji University is the non-hierarchical culture between students and

faculty.”

Sangita Palod (M.A. Development)

“Of course here in University, there are lots of

opportunities for each one of us to learn and experiment.

But the three things which University has taught me are:

to dream big, to think for the society and people in it and

to create opportunities and turn it into a big adventure by

dreaming big.”

Aditya Pratap Singh (M.A. Development)

WE ASKED OUR SENIORS

AND HERE’S WHAT THEY HAD TO SAY…

“Incredible professors, fantastic library and that

stone platform outside pixel B!”

Siddhant Nowlakha (M.A. Development)

“The people and the possibility to do anything!”Shruti Srivastava (M.A. Development)

K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4


Aboobacker Sidheeque (M.A. Education)

“That ‘one’ thing about Azim Premji University? Just one? Difficult! Okay…

As I write, there is just one word that forces itself to make its presence felt -

about how I feel - GRATITUDE.

This space has changed many things for me. It has changed me. The two years spent

here was a time spent on some deep introspection and in the process some really

wonderful people around shared their experience, offered some answers, forced me

to question - not criticise, helped me understand that everything, every ‘now’ has a

reason and that reason is a choice. Even that next moment is a choice - which leaves

us with Hope & Resolve. Well, I came here with Hope. Even better, I leave with

Resolve. Namaste! :)”

Harshita V Das (M.A. Education)

“For the first time I could see myself ‘being’,

‘becoming’ and ‘learning’. And I feel so powerful

now. According to ‘law of conservation of

power’, some transformation has taken place.

“You” lost it deliberately, for me to take it.

Kudos to my teachers and a thousand thanks”

Vijitha Rajan

(M.A. Education)

“The two years here at University have been a

lot more than what words can possibly express.

Every single moment- be it the intense classes,

evening walks, life at hostel, clubs, has played

an important role in bringing me to where I am

today. Proud to be part of this beautiful journey

at the University”

Priya Singh (M.A. Development)

“The one thing that the

University that taught me is the levels

of acceptance- it’s almost unconditional.

Each one of us I feel has been accepted

the way we are and given that chance to

be ourselves and blossom. Thank you Azim

Premji University!

Uma Maheshwari

(M.A. Development)

“Some places just let you explore and

experience life in its simplicity and some

places evoke that enthusiasm and eagerness

to learn both inside and outside the

classrooms, this is a place which did all that

to me and my most beautiful years.”

Kavitha Madhuri Reddy

(M.A. Education)

“Always memorable since University has shaped both my personal and professional life.”Robin Raj

(M.A. Development)

“Azim Premji University is a magnificent space which

has made me mindful about my

surroundings. It has taught me to be

proactive and left me inspired. These

years of my life, in spite of being

a short span of time, has equipped

me to face the challenges in the developmental space.”Muhammed Asrath

(M.A. Development)

“At the University I found out what it means to get an education.”- Nikhil Bangera (M.A. Education)

“Azim Premji University has facilitated an

environment to create social change agents

but I feel spiritual education and practices

could enhance our capability so that we

could achieve our vision of a just, equitable,

humane and sustainable society”

Pradeep Agrahari

(M.A. Development)

“Azim Premji University is the place where

unique cultures and a diverse knowledge

base are nurtured into a wealth of wisdom

potent enough to convert the commonly

shared dream of equitable society into a

sustained reality.”

Avinash Shankar (M.A. Development)

“The University has in many ways shaped my thinking and made me realize how much fun it is to be a part of a diversity! I have found myself and seen many others grow and change! It has left an imprint for life! :) “

Sonakshi Anand (M.A. Development)

“Living aspiration, friendship and love through music

make life at Azim Premji University beautiful. Here, I

found freedom in belonging.”

Ritu Gopal (M.A. Development)

“The best thing about University is that it’s a free place.

You do not know what you’re going to come out to be.

You think you know in the first year. Because, you’ve set out on a path.

By year two, you don’t know again. Could there be a year three maybe? Or would

that be too much to ask for? Then again, there will be many who will come out

knowing what they have learnt. And I can bet you that not all of them will have

learnt the same.

They will come out with their own portfolios (As the professors like to use the word

for assessments) There’s no standard. And, is that the best standard? Don’t get

me wrong now. There are structures in place. There are friendships aplenty. There

are learnings aplenty. And faculties aplenty. These make the standard I refer to.

Standard or no standard.” Jharna Kewalramani (M.A. Education)

“That one thing

about University is when

friendships are born over a

random trip with

strangers and the

love towards

home-made food!”

Mayuri Kulkarni (M.A. Education)

“A space blessed with people who love music

more than the noise that development

creates in the world makes Azim Premji

University truly different from others.”

Shahzeb Yamin (M.A. Development)

“Loved every day here!!”

Samvartika Nalam (M.A. Education)

K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4

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expressions

Life is a journey, not a destination.

Do not go where the path may lead, go

instead where there is no path and leave a trail.

“

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

“


Reflections

In my pre-University days, coming up with impressive party

openers would always be a challenge. ‘What can you

say that can floor the other person into admiration?’ was

always a social conundrum. My life is easily categorized

into ‘Pre-University’ and ‘Post-University’ days. During the

Pre-University days, mundane talk like ‘when are your

daughter’s exams?’ would rule most proceedings. During

my ‘Post University’ days on the other hand, my chutzpah in

social gatherings is on the rise and my readings on the social

barometer are soaring to an unimaginable degree! There is a

reason behind this.

Here goes my hypothesis. Once you study the social

sciences you are irreversibly changed as a human being. For

one, you have now begun to see the world, not as a happy

collection of human beings, animals, trees, birds, but a grand

arena of conflict and struggles. The voices in your head have

only become louder, not to mention more eloquent.

So are there any sure signs that one should look out for to

confirm one’s status as a true blue social science student?

Well, look out for these ….

• When ‘epistemology’ and ‘ontology’ roll out of your

tongue as naturally as ‘ma’ and ‘pa’ without the words

turning you into a scared puppy.

• When you start swearing that every chap in a Maruti

Alto upwards is an ‘oppressor’ – if he is unlucky even a

‘capitalist’! Ah if only Marx lived to see this day.

• When you are constantly admonished by your husband

for using words longer than five letters.

• When the word ‘power’ no longer means a switch and a

bulb, but something that sends chills down your spine.

• When Schools are no longer innocent places with the

happy cries of children on slides and jungle gyms – they

are sites of “social and political struggles”. No wonder my

son hated school in his early years!

• When good old ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ becomes an

evil chant because it is ‘behavioristic’. Darn Skinner!

• No talk on education and schooling is complete without

multiple mentions of ‘Vygotsky’, ‘constructivism’ and

‘pedagogy’. Think what this can do to your hapless

neighbor who has come to you for simple advice on a

new school.

• When any talk around you is a ‘discourse’ and not just

plain chatter, and you know that your conversations with

your children sound more and more like a discourse

rather than informal ramblings.

• I start looking at my neighbor’s kitty party not as a hot

bed of building gossip but “socio-cultural” constructivism.

The list is endless and my self-esteem high. Throw me a

“de-ontology” or “teleology” in my face and see if I blink! And

you must have your favorites too?

YOU KNOW YOU ARE A SOCIAL SCIENTIST WHEN…

(CAUTION: TO BE

READ WITH TONGUE

FIRMLY IN CHEEK)

Preethy Rao, M.A. Education, ’12 – ’14

ABIDING STRINGSOUR MUSICAL JOURNEY

Azim Premji University has given us the beautiful

space to live our journey as two individuals who

find our sense of belonging in the strumming

of the guitar and the dance of the bow. The

first week of unfamiliarity rendered our existence as that of

individuals exploring identities through the vision that brought

us here. The guitar’s strumming, which was the first to begin,

never imagined that a day would come when its rhythm,

which sounded a little incomplete, would be accompanied

by a flow of notes so beautiful that it would create an abiding

journey. Outside the realm of structured and composed

music, the advent of violin-guitar duets opened a new world

of soulful, original music!

When we played our first duet, people cried – some for

the love of music, some remembering their loved ones

and some simply because they wanted to surrender to this

beautiful song – our very first song together – Tu hi re. The

everyday wish to play new songs, both Indian and Western,

brought us together as musical partners. We treasure our

first performance on Independence Day, where Ritika’s jovial

dhol, the guitar and violin moved the University family to sing

together. Soon, each day ended with a long jamming session,

Fridays became the music day of the week and every event

at the University welcomed our performance. Playing for the

Ejipura slum demolition was one of those times when our love

for the spirit of the University was reinforced. Playing during

our field immersion in Satwas, for the homeless in Ejipura,

and celebrating Unmukt to the first Convocation, the launch

of a book on Benares, and the first Curiosity Conference, we

have had the honour of traveling across various themes.

Very rarely do people from diverse cultures and regions meet

in a space where they unite through music. When we situate

our musical story in the larger context, we realise that the

opportunities defined by the love for something are limitless.

Some made revelatory statements that we will always fondly

remember, some have watched us from a distance, some

think we are crazy, and we love it all! A special friendship has

been established with the University guards who make song

and also ask us why we haven’t played when we are busy

in the academic rigour! A Facebook post by our friend says,

“Strum away as they talk jobs. Bravo! Keep it this way you

two.” We sincerely thank each one of you for the friendship,

respect and blessings.

- Ritu Gopal and Shahzeb Yamin, M.A. Development ’12 - ’14

K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4


- Sriram Kumar V, M.A. Education, ’13 – ’15

July 2013 – I was back as a student in a formal

classroom setup after several years. The average

age of more than half of my fellow classmates was

less than half of my chronological age. It was very

refreshing to be around young minds. I had no option but to

put in a lot of hard work to be able to match the learning pace

of the young and energetic crowd around me.

But wait… here comes Philosophy! Any amount of hard work

doesn’t seem to work. And reading over and over was very

useful, except that it confused me even more!

One fine day, I decided to go about it differently. I stopped

reading Philosophy and started asking the most famous

questions asked by Philosophers - ‘What do you mean?’,

‘How do you know?’ and ‘What is presupposed?’ (Thanks to

Cornel Hamm and Prakash Iyer!)

‘What do you mean?’ - I asked a cashier in a departmental

store when he asked me to pay for the groceries I purchased.

He, of course, responded with a mad look!

My second victim was a bus conductor. ‘How do you know?’

– I asked him when he told me to pay Rs 18/- for the ticket to

my destination. He thought I did not understand Kannada. He

asked another person to translate the sentence in English.

Amused by the reactions, I finally ended up paying the

amount he asked.

It came to a point where I started asking these questions to

almost everyone.

I used to help my wife in her domestic chores at home earlier

(prior to joining University). But with hundreds of pages to

read, write and read/write more every week, I invariably

stopped helping my wife at home. One Sunday morning, my

wife asked me to do some useful work at home – here goes

the conversation between my wife (W) and me.

W – What are you doing? Why don’t you clean the house today?

Me - What do you mean? (Haha! – I got my victim for today)

W – I mean, you need to clean the house so that I can do the cooking in the meantime. You have stopped doing any work at home nowadays.

ME – How do you know?

W – Everyone knows… Now start cleaning. Otherwise, I will not cook for you today!

ME – What is presupposed? I mean… what are your

assumptions?

W – What happened to you? I am assuming that you do not want to starve for the whole day... Do you?

I guess this was enough for me to pull my socks up, clean the

house and stop philosophizing, at least at home. I became a

victim to my own philosophical endeavour.

But I still keep posing my favourite questions once in a while

to anyone I meet on the way… And I am eager to meet you,

dear reader. ☺

Hello, is anyone out there?

WHAT DO YOU MEAN? AND THE LAST TIME


What happens when a working woman decides

to quit her job, take a sabbatical and pursue

further education at Azim Premji University?

She gets messed up! Like me.

I had switched over fields from Homeopathic Clinical practice

to classrooms and training. While the ‘Dr.’ prefix to my name

gave me credibility among the audience in my workshops,

I felt incomplete about the fact that I talk about a subject

(Education & Parenting) out of my passion and not out of

command over the subject.

I came to Azim Premji University to learn about Education.

I was prepared to pick up books again, read and work on

assignments and deadlines. What I had not anticipated

was how these various discourses on Education would

fundamentally alter the way I look at the subject, my

surroundings and life.

Did I ace all my subjects? Was I successful in all the field

work / practicum work? Was I able to articulate my learnings

well and produce great reports? Well, maybe not! But I

definitely had a gala time doing was breaking my barriers.

Interacting with fecund minds in this learning space, that have

worked at the grass root level, struggled, failed, experienced

the tyranny of the education system, and tried something

new, gave me an altered perspective and courage.

I became mindful of the social inequalities of caste, class and

gender around me. I stopped keeping separate utensils for

my house help at home. She now shares the vessels used

by us in the house. This small step was a symbolic way of

me breaking the caste, class barrier; a barrier which I was

unknowingly, unquestioningly reinforcing and reproducing.

The birth of my niece was a great joy to my parents. As

grandparents, they were even happier because my sister

in law had given birth to a fair, beautiful girl. Before taking

the course on Gender studies I would have never even

questioned this line of thinking, but now I chose to disagree

with their thoughts and vehemently made myself heard

regarding the same. My family went through initial shock at

the way I was reacting to their view that a woman has a lot

more to her identity than being ‘fair and beautiful’.

Apart from gaining a fresh outlook towards life, I also did

some crazy things that I never thought I would do. In these

two years, I have travelled to the interiors of my country,

experiencing people, places and education in spaces other

than the urban. I have travelled in the general class

compartment of our quintessential Indian railways train and

interacted, played antakshari and dumb charades with co

passengers and had the time of my life in doing so. I have

participated in a flash mob that happened at the University,

attended courses on film appreciation and fallen in love with

the power of the visual medium.

I have also closely interacted with some of the most amazing

set of people who have been my classmates for the past 2

years – all coming from various parts of the country. I have

sung, danced, participated in drama and experienced life like

never before.

People who knew me before I became a part of the University

family now find me a little crazy, weird and radical. My parents

think that I have gotten messed up and a little too opinionated

for their comfort. For me, this messing up has done me a

great deal of good. Slowly I have discovered my wings and I

am flying… a little more every day!

And as the tag line of a famous commercial goes …. “daag acche hain!” Such I shall say is my mess up. ☺

MY TRYST WITHEDUCATION AT AZIM PREMJI UNIVERSITY

-Shruti Mahesh, M.A. Education, ’12 – ’14


K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4


I did all my schooling in a government school located in

a slum of a second tier city. As a child born in the 80’s, I

was fascinated with the growing technical advancement in

my surroundings. The opportunity to see this technology

was rare as the transistors, televisions and, in some cases,

electric lights were mostly owned by the economically well

to do persons in the locality. During my 10th grade, one of

my relatives bought a film camera when he was touring my

city. That was when I decided that I wished to work behind

the camera. As a literature student I enjoyed working with

children and would write drama scripts for them. We staged

these plays during the weekends and after school. While

screening movies in the slum area, I used the digital camera,

Laptop and LCD projector.

During our Sociology of Education course here at the Azim

Premji University, our professors told us that we would need

to shoot a short research film as a part of our course. We

were preparing ourselves with the sociological theories and

were exposed to using visual tools in research. We studied

visual media created on varying topics, shot in different

styles in different contexts. We faced a lot of problems with

permissions to use cameras in the school, had difficulty

with using technology and conducting research at schools

itself, whilst we were in the field. Discussing these issues in

class and in the hostels amongst classmates brought some

shocking and a few really funny stories to light. The post

production work was harder than the shooting itself and each

group found its own way of working around it. Our group spent

a whole day on preliminary editing. Dealing with software that

was new to us, net book hang ups and conflicting ideas at the

editing table added drama to the situation. The last two days

before screening were highlighted by final rush and frantic

calls and text messages calling for group work. Those who

couldn’t help with technology, motivated friends by bringing

cookies and cool drinks to those who worked.

We used some film clips to emphasize our ideas. Every time

we thought of an edit, new ideas would keep popping up.

We did a preliminary individual screening with students of

our batch to get some feedback on the film before the final

screening. Many of our fellow-students gave us insightful

feedback that we incorporated into our project. We (Aarusha,

Saleem, Hamsa, Siddharth and Mohanty), as a student

group, planned a surprise recognition for all the hard workers

who carried out the commendable group work. We made a

two minute clip on everyone in the class as a group and the

work they did through the first semester during their weekly

practicum. We created the ambience of a film screening for

all our in-house film makers. While we were having pop-

corn and chips through the screening of our assessment

component, our batch mates were writing their test. This is

one of the very few universities (known to me) which allows

the faculty the freedom to choose any form of assessment

for their students. We really enjoyed the visual journey with

our professors. And this semester too, we are again at it. The

journey continues as we plan to shoot a film for an Open

Course at the University.

PAPER TO VISUALS – A JOURNEY OF A CLASS OF FILM MAKERS AT AZIM PREMJI UNIVERSITY

- Thamarai Selvan K., M.A. Education,’13 – ’15

We all know that our time-table has a specially

marked day in the middle of the week called

the ‘Practicum Wednesday’. It’s the day you

step out of the University campus into the

real, so called “practical” world. It is the day you experiment,

explore and experience what great theorists have said. But is

it only what you study in classrooms that you see during your

practicums or is there more to it?

During the first semester, my practicum visits were to the

same school. My group observed the students and teachers,

interviewed them and the Principal, carried out Piagetian

tasks, etc. The second semester was all about visiting

different school settings. We went to a whole range of schools,

from international to migrant schools, from a disciplined army

school to an alternative one, from a low income school to the

one with students from high socio-economic backgrounds.

Then came third and fourth semester practicums, which were

based on electives. This meant visiting even more different

spaces such Karnataka State Commission for Protection of

Child Rights to RTE Grievance Redressal Cell for a subject,

a special school and teacher learning centers. All in all, the

practicums gave us perspectives on various Institutions,

which added to our learnings, at times, beyond what our

classroom could provide.

Yet, as I had mentioned earlier there were other sides to

these practicum Wednesdays. These were the days that

saved us from being stuck at the college cafeteria and

allowed us to taste food at new places; exploring areas such

as Koramangala, M.G. Road and Indiranagar. They were

extra special also because one could watch a movie for INR

99 at PVR in Forum Mall (fitting a student’s budget perfectly!).

Sometimes, my incentive to go for a practicum would be

eating yummy idly with chutney at a tapir (small street shop)

near the school and sometimes shopping with friends. There

was ‘motivation’ for every one of those days. These were

bonding times amongst groups too!

When I look back at these practicum days, certain images

flash in my mind. I remember moments when I saw a child

working as a rag-picker or an old man sleeping on the

footpath, women sweeping streets, college students doing

last minute reading for their exams in the bus, a new person

in town asking every bus at Singasandra bus-stop about its

route points, the conductor haggling over change, arguing

with the auto-wala for using his meter and not asking for

extra, the smile of the old lady selling idlis from a tin box, the

colorful lamps being sold on M.G. road pavement, traffic and

the noise it makes, walking by the slums where a woman sat

outside her make-shift hut applying oil on a little girl’s hair,

small temples and the sound of bells….

These practicums were my escape from a mundane life into

the ‘actual’ Bangalore. These were the days that introduced

me to the city of Bengaluru and left me with glimpses that I

will carry back with me when I leave in a few days.

WHAT PRACTICUMS WERE ACTUALLY ABOUT- Ritika Chawla, M.A. Education, ’12 – ’14


K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4

33K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 430 A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y

It was not that I was living away from my family for the

first time. But this time I did not expect that it would be life

threatening experience. I had no idea what trouble I was

getting into when I picked up the chit which determined my

future with my roomies in my hostel at Aarusha (2D). When

I reached the hostel a short haired girl was standing before

me filling in her entries. Little did I know that she would be

the one to make my life a little like hell in 2D. When I entered

the room I saw that both the corner beds were occupied. I

had to take the centre bed without knowing that it was soon

going to be turned into a common table by both my roomies.

Since I met my first roommate, I was wondering what kind of

a girl the other one would be, looking at the barrage of bags

she had left behind to welcome us with, in the room, in her

absence.

But when trouble has to come it will not come from just

one direction. The first day at college was the registration

day. Instead of filling in our registration, my roommate and I

were exploring Hosur road and Singasandra. My bob haired

roomie had forgotten her photographs in the hostel which

were required for our registration process. In the evening, our

“miss absent” roomie reached the hostel with all the stuff she

could POSSIBLY pack before leaving Hyderabad. It was like

she had made all arrangements to stay in the hostel for ever.

So this was how we got our first ever tuck shop at Aarusha

and that too exclusively for 2D mates.

The story was just unfolding; more surprise elements were

to be discovered in our flat of eight girls. On the second day,

as I was leaving the college premises, sitting in the bus,

waiting for it to leave, another bob head entered the picture.

I asked her which flat she had gotten, eager to find out

whether she belonged to 2D or not. Alas, she did not. But I

had never imagined that she would eventually end up being

our fourth roommate as she became good friends with us and

practically lived with us in our flat thereafter! Then, there were

the two intruders as well in our room who lived in the kitchen

room of our flat - the delhi girls: one with the longest legs

and tresses I have seen and the other seemingly “reserved”

roommate whose “damaka” we were yet to discover. The

list does not end here-we have three more to go, without

whom the flavours of our room do not add up to be what it is

today. The girls next door included a girl from Raipur with a

whacky sense of humour, our Marathi mulgi who is the queen

of jhatakas and the “dominos fanatic” as we called the last

one. So this is what living with eight girls looks like. Initially I

was not very happy with the idea of living with so many girls.

What I had never imagined was how much fun it would turn

out to be.

Putting a bunch of girls to live with each other bonded us

together as a community - a family, as I think was its purpose.

The beginnings of change in our lives had begun the day we

entered University as well as started living at the hostels. All

of us, I mean the University family come from various regions,

with diverse cultures. This hostel setting has blessed us with

the opportunity to understand each other for who we are,

where we come from, what our culture may be and so forth.

Most importantly it has helped me respect people for who

they are. Coming from the hills in the Shivaliks, I now realize

what a lungi means for the south Indians and recognize that

all south Indians are not madrasis.

And how can I leave out the field immersion trip - another

chance for us to extend our University family network. It was

an opportunity for all of us to understand the importance of

teamwork and friendship. We were a group of ten students;

a very diverse set of people from different backgrounds. We

completed our field immersion together in fifteen days. The

trip enriched us with experiences which we have come to

cherish dearly. The relations which we nurtured are bonds

which I think will stay with me for a life-time.

I want to express through this article my sincere gratitude

to the University and the faculty for making our space here

at the University so beautiful - where we prepare to bring

about change in our lives first and then society. I believe this

to be just a start to a new beginning, like a trailer of a larger

unknown picture of change which is about to be released

through all of us!

Watch out for it ☺

A LIFE AWAY FROM MY HOME….- Mamta Kandari, M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15

In Verse

A z i m P r e m j i U n i v e r s i t y K a r v a n | J u n e 2 0 1 4 3332

BEING A HOMOSEXUAL

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rqe vkSj e® & fudV~LFk] vkfyaxuc)] çTofyr tSls gou dh vfXu vkSj ?k`r tSls lw;Z] jf’e vkSj O;kseAA

rqe vkSj e® & ,d nwljs ls ifjiw.kZ tSls ’kfDr ls f’ko vkSj f’ko ls ’kfDr tSls Hkä Hkxoku ls vkSj Hkxoku Hkä ls ifjiw.kZAA

rqe vkSj e® & vuUr] vfopy] vfojy tSls varfj{k] tSls ijczã tSls e®] tSls rqeAA

rqe vkSj e® & lqxfU/kr vkSj çdkf’kr tSls nks çseh g`n;] tSls lw;Z dh jf’e ls jks’ku Hkhxh gqbZ olqa/kjkAA

rqe vkSj e® & u Hkwr u Hkfo";] cl orZeku rqe vkSj e® & fuLokFkZ] fu"diV] ’kk’or rqe vkSj e® & ,d vk’kk] ,d cfynku] ,d fo’oklAA

rqe vkSj e® g® vkRek vkSj ijekRek rqe vkSj e® nwj gksdj Hkh ikl g® rqe vkSj e® g`n; vkSj 'okl g® rqEgkjh vkSj esjh fu;fr ,d gS lksvge lksvge rRoefl rRoeflA

e® gh rqe gks vkSj rqe gh e® gw¡AA

rqe v©j e®

- Varun Sharma, M.A. Education

’13 – ’15

lj ij gkFk /kjs lc ;gk¡ cSBs gq,]

dksbZ usVcqd e− vk¡[k− tek,] rks gSa dqN fdrkck− ls f?kjs gq,]

’kkar ekg©y e−] ePNjk− fd lulukgV tSls ,d /kqu gS fc[ksjrhA

gks jgh gS tokc&loky dh tqxycUnh]

VeZ isij ls tqM+h fdrkc− [ksyrh yqDdk&fNIihA

dgha fl;klh nk¡o&i−p ij fy[kuk gS fucU/k]

dgha yo vkSj beks’ku dk fn[kykuk gS lEcU/k-

gj jkst 10 cts rd le; fcrkuk gS ;gÈ]

vaxzsth eSa bl txg dks dgrs g® ßykbczsjhÞ---

vt+he çseth ;wfuoflZVh dh ykbczsjh

& uhrw cgy, M.A. Education’13 – ’15

In Verse

‘Unnatural’ or ‘natural’, I won’t ponder Would not desecrate by such a slander

It wasn’t shame that I intended to fetch, But only I out of this distress

Ostracization, and Banishment being the order of the day Acceptance of oneself was the contest ahead

Thy Soul decried on giving up on it The trauma of acceptance wondered if it was all worth it.

I confronted myself with questions many; it was the journey I had never undertaken ahead

What sense would life make otherwise, if being you was such a crime, I had to commit.

- Vaishali Rawat, M.A. Development

’13 – ’15

TODAY’S LESSON PLAN

rh---

/kkor gksrks] pkyr gksrks] osGsP;k xqykeklkj[kk] d’kh vlsy ßrhÞ\ vkyk ç’u eukr xzh"e lfj lkj[kk] cgq/kk--- vlsy ,dk fuokar fu’py {k.kklkj[kh rh-- vlsy] va/kkjkyk phj.kkÚ;k fnO;k lkj[kh rh---xqykc [kwi ikfgys vu Qqyka ekxs yiysys dkVsgh] ikfgys] ’kCnka e/kY;k [kksV~;k vRRkjkaps lkBsgh] i.k] vlsy Qqyka e/kwu mey.kkÚ;k xa/kk lkj[kh rh] vlsy] va/kkjkyk phj.kkÚ;k fnO;k lkj[kh rh---fDy"V pØO;qgkryk grcy vfHkeU;q eh] vtqZukus os/kysyk--- lqanj ehuk{k eh] vkf.k okLrokrY;k —".kkP;k jk/kslkj[kh rh] vlsy] va/kkjkyk phj.kkÚ;k fnO;k lkj[kh rh---pqdyks gj ,dnk--- uh[kG.kkÚ;k rkÚ;kph osG] dk rek ckGxq !! gk rj lkoY;kapk [ksG dkj.k] vlsy lqnSokus fpac ,d jk’khle rh vlsy] va/kkjkyk phj.kkÚ;k fnO;k lkj[kh rh---va/kkjkryk fnok rq>k {k.kk {k.kkyk gjrks;] dqBs vkgsl\ pkrd rq>k ikolkfouk txrks;] tk.krks--- ’kCnkauk u isyo.kkjh bZ’oj HkDrh rw

tk.krks--- va/kkjkyk phj.kkÚ;k fnO;k lkj[kh rh--- Rohan, M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15

Sneha Sharma, M.A. Education, ’13 – ’15

lkxj dh ygjksa esa ,d NksVh lh cw¡n gw¡ e®gj cw¡n dh rjg dqN [kkl gw¡ e®

vdlj yksx ftls le> ugÈ ikrs,slk ,glkl gw¡ e®---

rwQku esa [kqn dks laHkkyrh gqbZ fc[kjrh lh bd cw¡n gw¡ e®

gj rwQku >sydj vkxs c<w¡ vius fny dh oks vkl gw¡ e®---

lkfgy ij igq¡p dj #duk eSa u pkgw¡ u;h eaft+y <w¡<+ ikÅ¡

oks ^dk’k* gw¡ e®---cgrh Bgjrh

bBykrh eqLdqjkrh tw>rh Vdjkrh

vkxs c<+rh tkrh bd NksVh lh cw¡n gw¡ e®

gj cw¡n dh rjg---dqN [kkl gw¡ e®---

,d cw¡n gw¡ e®

ejkBh dfork

دندرکیم هاگن ارمواکجنک ینامشچاب زورما سرد دنسرپ یم نم زا دیسریم رظن هب

تسیچ متشادرب ار یچگ هکت

"یگدنز" متشون هتخت یور ربتسا "یگدنز " زورما سرد دیسرپ تفر الاب یتسد

؟تشون نآ یور زا دیاب؟درک رب زا ار نآ دیاب

؟ دناوخ ار نآ دیابهریغو

مداد خساپ نمدینک میسرت میارب ار یگدنز

دینک شا هیساحمدیهد شحیضوت

دیشکب ار شا هشقندینک شلیلحت و هیزجت

دینک شمیسقت دینک شرورم

شدیربب هاگشیامزآ هبدینک شهاگن پوکسورکیم ریز

دینک شریسفتدینک شهاگن یداقتنا

دینک شا همزمزدینک شا هزمزم

دیریگب هزادناارنآدینک شا همجرت

دینک ربخ ارم دیدرک ادیپ یزیچ رگا ودن دنام تکاس همه

دوب سرد مامت نیا

نیملعم یمامت هب دوشیم میدقت رعش نیا.دیشخب انعم نم یگدنز هب اهنآ سرد هک نم

یجن هن ناجرم نیهش 2012-2014 شزومآ

ناتسودنه

(English translation overleaf)


/kwi lqcg fd lsad jgk Fkk]

cPpksa dks Ldwy tc tkrs]

vk¡xu ls eSa ns[k jgk Fkk]

ihB is cLrk ykn pys gSa]

D;k ,sls Ldwy Hkys gSa-----\

NwV xbZ oks vêh&iêh]

NwVh nk¡r ls dkVh dêh]

yEcs psgjs ysdj tkrs]

’kke dks Fkd dj okil vkrs

fdl jLrs is vkt pys gSa]

D;k ,sls Ldwy Hkys gSa------\

lth est mBokyh Qêh]

fNVd xbZ iSjksa ls feêh]

[ksydwn ls g® drjkrs ]

gkseodZ dk [kkSQ fnykrs]

tkus ;s fdl vksj pys gSa]


vc Ldwy esa ekj ugÈ gS]

ij igys lk I;kj ugÈ gS]

jfookj dk fnu oks I;kjk]

vc igys lk ;kj ugÈ gS]

lqUnj cpiu jkSan pys gSa]


&vkfnR; dqekj xkoaMs] M.A. Development, ’13-’15

D;k ,sls Ldwy Hkys gSa-----\

This game of words,

You play with me.

These strings and strings of thoughts,

You bring to me.

Not sides but perspectives

Of coins, You show to me.

This game of life,

You play with me.

A covered vessel, You

bring to me.

Empty or filled,

Or

To fill or to not,

You do not tell me.

- Nanak Bhatia, M.A. Education

’13 – ’15

WORDS

- Rahul Bharadwaj M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15

vkt dqN tyrk NksM+ vk;k gw¡ ---

vkt dqN tyrk NksM+ vk;k gw¡ ---

tyrs g® gkM+ ek¡l ds cqr rks tysa

esjk D;k gS\ eSa rks lcls fj’rk rksM+ vk;k gw¡ --

vkt fQj dqN tyrk NksM+ vk;k gw¡ --

eq>s ;kn gS tc oks Hk;kud vkx yxh Fkh

u tkus dc dgk¡ dSls dksbZ fpaxkjh lqyxh Fkh

ns[krk gh jg x;k ml fpaxkjh dks rsjh VkV is--

tyrs rsjs vikfgt vCck dks vk¡xu dh [kkV is--

ml ekSr dh ftEesnkjh ls [kqn eq¡g eksM+ vk;k gw¡

vkt ’kk;n [kqn dks tyrk NksM+ vk;k gw¡ --

vkf[kj D;k Fkk ftlus eq>s tyk;k Fkk

;w¡ rks ,d vHks| lk nqxZ eSaus cuk;k Fkk

rw tyrk gS rks tys --rw dkSu lk viuk Fkk

--rw rks ijk;k Fkk

vkf[kj bUgh xQyrksa ls eSaus [kqn dks fj>k;k Fkk

vc rw ugha gS --

xyh esa lkbfdy dk iqjkuk Vk;j nkSM+krk rsjk csVk ugha gS

iqjkuh yky efLtn ls dksbZ uekt Hkh vc nsrk ugha gS

cl gS rks ?ku?kksj lUukVk gS] dk;jksa dh g¡lh gS

,d pyrh fQjrh ftUnk yk’k rsjh vEeh cph gS

vc rsjh ml xyh esa tkus ls Mjrk gw¡

vk¡[ks pkj u gks tk,¡ fdlh ls mEehn djrk gw¡

ij fdl fdl ls cpw¡xk\ mu Mjkous lk;ksa ls dc

rd eSa fNiw¡xk\

vkrs tkrs nj[rksa ds >qjeqBksa ls vkokt vkrh gS --

fd gj cstk¡ lh fn[krh bekjr iwNs tkrh gS

fd vkf[kj can D;ksa Fks rsjs ?kj ds lkjs nqvkjs

fd tc ek¡xh ’kj.k ml ftthfo"kk us vk¡py ilkjs

fd tSls ;K lk pyrk gks rsjs vareZu esa

rwus jä dh vkgqfr >ksadh ml gou esa !!

fd rsjs /keZ dks D;k lp esa Fkk [krjk ckyeu ls \\

mu uUgs ls gkFkksa ds f[kykSus] xqysyksa ;k dye ls

dHkh mldh tqck¡ rq>dks pkpk dg cqykrh Fkh

D;k yk;s gks esjh VkQh rqrykdj iwNs tkrh Fkh

bu lokyksa dk dksbZ mÙkj ugha vc lw>rk gS

fd vc ;s ’kh’k i’pkrki dh osnh ij >qdk gS

ftanxkuh dh cph gj lkal gj iy dh nqvk gS

ekSr tYnh ls u vk;s] bYrtk gS--

tykyr ls Hkjs lSykc lk thou

bd dkfry vkSj tkfye dh ;s gh ltk gSA

With curious eyes they were watching me

It seemed they were asking me

"What is today's lesson?"

I picked up a piece of chalk

Wrote on the board

“Zindagi”

Today’s lesson is “Zindagi”

A hand went up

Asked “Should we write it?”

Another asked “Should we memorize it?"

“Should we read it?”

And so on

I responded

Draw “Zindagi’’ for me

Calculate it

Explain it

Draw its map

Analyze it

Divide it

Review it

Take it to the lab

Look at it under a microscope

Interpret it

Critically examine it

Whisper it

Taste it

Measure it

Translate it

And if you find anything

Let me know.

All remained silent

This was the entire lesson.

(This poem is dedicated to all my teachers whose lessons enriched my life).

- Shahin Marjan Nanaje, M.A Education, ’12 – ’14

TODAY’S LESSON PLAN


ମୁଁ ଗୋଟେ ରାସ୍ତା କଡର ମଣିଷ ମୋ ପାଇଁ ମୁଲ୍ୟହୀନ ଏଠି ସବୁ, ଏସି ରୁମ୍ ର ଶୀତଳତା, ବିଏମଡବ୍ଲୁର ସୁଖ, କଳା କୋଟର ଚମକ୍, ଆଉ ଜେତେ ସବୁ ଟଙ୍କାର ସେ ଭୋକ I

ସକାଳ ମୋ ଚାଲିଆସେ, ରାସ୍ତା କଡରେ, କେବେ ବୁଲା କୁକୁର, ତ କେବେ ମାଲିକ୍ ହିନ ଗୋରୁ ଗାଈଙ୍କ ସାଥିରେ I

ଆଉ ସନ୍ଧ୍ୟା ପୁଣି ଦେଖାଦିଏ ଅଧାଜଳା ସ୍ଟ୍ରୀଟ ଲାଇଟ, ଫେରାନ୍ତ ଧୁଁଆମୟ ମେସିନି ସମାନ ମଣିଷ ମୁହଁରେ, ଆଉ ସଜବାଜ ହେଇ ମାର୍କେଟ୍ ବାହାରୁଥିବା ଅର୍ଧନଗ୍ନ ଯୁବତୀର ଦେହଦେଇ I

କେବେ କେବେ ଅଧା ରାତିରେ ନିଦ ଭାଂଗୀଯାଏ କାହାର ଯନ୍ତ୍ରଣା ଶୁଣି, ବଂଚାଅ ବଂଚାଅ ଆଉ ଶେସ ନିସ୍ଵାଶର ହୃଦୟଫଟା ଚିତ୍କାରକୁ ଶୁଣି , କେବେ ଜିଏ ଖୁବ୍ ନିଜର ଥାଏ କାହାର, ଅଜି ହତ୍ୟା କରେ ସେ, କେବେ ଜିଏ ଗେରୁଆ ବସ୍ତ୍ରରେ ନିଜ ଚରିତ୍ରକୁ ଢାଙ୍କି ଥାଏ, ଆଜି ସିଏ ଏଠି ରୁପର ସୌଦାଗର, ଆଉ କେବେ ମା,ବାପା,ପ୍ରେମିକ ,

ଆଉ ହଜିଯାଉଥିବା ସମ୍ପର୍କର ଚିତ୍କାର I ଛାଡ ମୁଁ ବି କୋଉଗୋଟେ, ସମାଜ ସଂସ୍କାରକ, ଚରିତ୍ର ଆଉ ସତ ମିଛର ବିଚାରକ I

ଏଠି ସବୁ ମିଛ, ମିଛ ମୋର ସାଧୁତା, ମିଛ ମୋର ଦେଶପ୍ରେମ, ମିଛ ମୋର ଚରିତ୍ର, ଆଉ ଏକ ସୁନ୍ଦର ସମାଜ ପଇଁ ମୋ କଳ୍ପନାର ହସ୍ତରେଖା,

କାରଣ ମୁଁ ଗୋଟେ ରାସ୍ତା କଡର ମଣିଷ I

ଅମିତ୍ କୁମାର ଜେନା (ସ୍ନାତକୋତ୍ତର ,ବିକାଶ )

ମୁଁଗୋଟେରାସ୍ତାକଡରମଣିଷ A ROAD-SIDE MAN

I am a road side man;

everything is worthless for me.

The coolness of an AC room,

the happiness of a BMW,

all charming materialistic hunger is beyond my

horizons.

Here the morning comes.

Sometimes with street dogs;

and sometimes with wandering domestic cows.

The evening starts with the blinking of the street

lights as they struggle to light up.

I see the tired, stressed, so called “civilized man” in

his sedentary machines,

pretty-faced half-covered girls going to the market.

Meanwhile, a gasp wakes me up at midnight.

The shout is asking for help with one last breath,

I wonder, and wonder, and I murmur.

It wounds, cheats and kills one’s nearer and dearer

ones.

He, who was disguised, now reveals the truth.

I hear, a cry of a lost relationship,

of a lover, of a helpless father, a destitute;

I cover myself and sleep.

Let’s leave everything.

Why am I bothered?

I am not a social reformer!

I am not a judge!

Everything is foggy.

Everything is false,

my honesty,

My patriotism,

My character. false! false!

All my painting of a better society is false.

Because I am a road-side man.

- Amit Kumar Jena,

M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15

(Here’s the translation of the above Oriya poem into English)

They say I am what I am,

Am I?

Do I have my own identity?

They say I am like them,

Am I?

Do I have access to the same school where my brother is studying?

They say I am equal to them,

Am I?

Do I have the right to choose what I want from my life?

They say I am a free bird

Am I?

Do I have a right to choose my career where they don’t ask me to be a teacher as it is a safe, day job?

Why do they do the “saying” every-time?

Why don’t I?

When will they stop considering me as a separate entity?

I have so many questions but who will answer

I have so many things to say but who will listen

I am not happy the way I am

But

I am compromising the way I am.

- Minakshi Singh M.A. Education

’12 – ’14

WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A GIRL

gtkjksa psgjs fn[krs Fks ml ,d psgjs esa

oks tks Fkk VªkfQd flXuy ij [kM+k

my>h gqbZ Hkkouk,¡ fn[krh FkÈ mldh vk¡[kksa esa

ftudh xgjkbZ esa jkst >k¡d dj Hkh dksbZ tku uk ldk mudh dgkuh

ns[krh FkÈ oks vk¡[ksa xqtjrh gqbZ dkjkas dks

vkSj mue− lokj psgjksa dks ns[k dj uk tkus dSls fVd tkrh FkÈ ,d Hkko ij

oks psgjk Fkk ;k Fkh\

VªSfQd pyrk #drk Fkk vk¡[ksa Hkh pyrh :drh jgrh FkÈ

ml psgjs ds iSj tc tokc ns nsrs Fks rks cSB tk;k djrs Fks flXuy ds fdukjs

rc mldh jh<+ dh gìh loky iwNrh Fkh

dgÈ cnnqvk yx rks uk tk;sxh\

dsuk gksYdj

M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15

NksVh lh nqfu;k gS esjh] ij [okc cM+s l;kus gSa]

frrfy;ksa lh jaxr ysdj] eq>dks nkSM+ yxkus gSa --

D;ksa pyw¡ mu jkgksa is] ftuds 'khy iqjkus gSa]

eq>s rks vius eu ds&gh] dqN u, Mxj cukus gSa

dne dne gS fxjrk gw¡] vkSj [kqn [kM+k gks tkrk gw¡]

vius vki dks ubZ ubZ eqf’dyksa esa vktekrk gw¡]

vktk eqf’dysa eq>s vktek] eq>s Hkh rks rq>s

vktekus gSa-]


NksVs NksVs ix gSa esjs] ij Å¡ph esjh mM+kusa gSa]

uhy xxu dks yka?k tkÅ¡] ioZr is p<+ tkuk gS

pk¡n fd lSj rqEgsa djkÅ¡] geus dc ls Bkuk gS


liuksa fd uxjh gS esjh] ge gSa ;gk¡ ds jktdqekj]

u dksbZ geis gqed pyk;s] u pykus nsaxs vc ;s

vR;kpkj]

lkjs vR;kpkj] vc eq>s fBdkus yxkus gSa]


/kjrh ek¡ dh xksn esa [ksys] vc blds dtZ pqdkus gSa

cw¡n cw¡n ygw dh viuh] blds fy, cgkuk gS]

lquk dgha gS LoxZ clk rks gS] tehu is mrkj ykuk gS

NksVh lh nqfu;k gS esjh] ij [okc cM+s l;kus gSaA

’kf’k Hkw"k.k dqekj] M.A. Development,

’12 – ’14

NksVh lh nqfu;k esjh


My eyes, eager sparrows flitter across the twilight

plains.

My feet, mossy stones, sink into the sleepy carpet

of green.

My hands, free, leafless branches lay open to the

flowing chill.

My nails, crescent moons eclipse the waning light.

My hair, untamed waves weave into the blanket of

day.

And there from the distant darkness of shrubs,

Hallowed in a turbid shroud of cloud, her form

emerges:

Crisp contours of frame and face,

Eyes sharp deep wells, tresses wild flowing gown,

Near footless she glides our separating plain.

Vision aligned, piercing, our bough arms entwine,

Spindle fingers trace physiques,

Cruising the wind’s grace, our lips elope, soft,

intense, fervent,

Our mouths cauldrons brim with elixir, leaves

parched throats

To trickle into the other, we inhale across breaths.

The trumpets of cicadas and the harps of croaks

Vain silence the sin of our pacing hearts

With the winged nocturnal as our witness

And the shadows as our aisle,

We stand betrothed by the moonlight.

lM+d ds fdukjs

rEcqvksa esa

pwYgs ty jgs Fks] /kqWavk mB jgk Fkk

cPps pwYgs dks ?ksj dj cSBs gq, Fks

viuh ykj ls thHk dks lkus gq,

vpkud fQj tksj dh ckfj’k gksrh gS

cjru ikuh ij rSjus yxrs g®

/kjrh dh I;kl rks cq> tkrh gS

ij dqN cq> ugh ikrk

cl lqyxrk jgrk gSA

I;kl

THE SPELL

Raging young urgencies of disconnect;

Flushed and gulping in the depths of intolerance;

Braised and walked over by convenience.

Shoe bit, blinded and screamed at by hatred;

The one thing that once was is no longer sacred.

The sadness of indifference a syndrome suffered;

Everyday a new voice being smothered.

Pain of looking through;

Of all that can be looked into.

Judgment a door bell away;

Why have I started to look at you this way?

Human in spirit, spirit of man;

You, my brother, can do more than you think you

can.

Trials and failures everybody’s midday meal;

Why then are we so fearful to feel?

Bitter thoughts and words a dangerous drink;

Sip and slip over the ship to sink.

Sustenance of reality a cheat away;


Understanding that you are me and I am you;

And all our follies are probably true.

Polish our lenses to embrace a calm;

To all our anger it proves a balm.

Walk off the steam that engulfs your mind;

So much easier to just be kind.

Renovate our shortcomings to start afresh;

Each day we straighten our mess.

A life of hope and one of dismay;


As a gift today there is compassion;

Looking at you that old way is out of fashion.

More than a flame amidst black;

This experience puts me on track.

Like smooth fresh renewed floors;

This renovated new thought opens new doors.

Arms wide open to all the conflict;

Put an end to the pain we inflict.

My foe, my friend;

Together in one direction we sway

And look at each other a whole new way.

RENOVATED THOUGHT

- Ronika George, M.A. Development ’13 – ’15

- Ghanshyam Kumar, M.A Development ’12 – ’14

- Suchaita Tenneti , M.A. Education’13 – ’15

- Sanket Karkare M.A Education

’13 – ’15

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683,000 rapes occur every year, which equals 56,916 per month and 1,871 per day, 78 per hour and 1-3 per

minute-

Varun Sharma M.A. Education

’13 – ’15


Yes! I confess my love-

For the river, and the breeze,

For the courtyard and the trees;

Be it a spider or be it a snake,

Be it a scorpion for heaven’s sake;

I loved to be among all of these.

For the hill top that touches

the skies,

And the smiles that stretch for

miles;

For the debate and the

discussions,

Sprinkled with honest

confessions;

I loved to be among all

of these.

For the road without trails,

And all the travelling travails;

For the shrubs and the grasses,

And clouds which overhead passes;

I was blessed to be among these.

For the home without clocks,

And doors without locks;

For the dung smeared walls,

And the distant morning calls;

I was blessed to be among these.

I LOVED TO BE AMONG THESE!

(In fond memories of our field visit to Sarang hills in Attapadi, Kerala!)

THE LITTLE RED DOT…

No, I don’t have fancy words

To describe what I have done..

Sitting, gazing at the sun

I am wondering, wondering how come!

It grew and just grew

Even before I knew

The little red dot on his white shirt...

I stood still and watched

His peaceful expression

And the distant look..

Wondering what it really took

A swish of knife and there it was!

The red dot was no longer just a dot

A smudge or more of a haphazard line

Oh it looks a lot like mine

Why is he not yelling now?

I want to hear him shout

Oh say again what a whore I am!

Eagerly waiting for another fight

A few more thrashes a few more lines

I am done with all excuses of mine

Where is the anger now?

I want to hear him abuse and shout!

Oh last night was a ruthless one

He came home drunk and spilled some wine

Gave me a few thrashes and sat to dine

And my love for him grew and grew

Sarcastic I am to be true!

Did I tell you about the crime?

When he kicked me just a few times!

The water just spilled on the ground

And my little one left me without a sound!

Seven months I had carried around,

Within my womb safe and sound!

Who knew he was destined to leave me?

Just because there was no liquor left in the pantry!

- Janakiram, M.A. Development ’13 – ’15

“Sorry darling! It was an accident

For everything I repent

It isn’t the end you know,”

He said “We can always try again”

Again?Did he say again!

Sleeping under him all over again!

Rubbed by him yes again!

Raped by him for sure again!

A little one I did want

Who would mend this wedding knot!


Who would save me from this rot!


Who would keep him away from the liquor pot!


Who would bring happiness, laughter and what not!

But why are we still on the same topic

The little one had left me with his mighty kick!

The little dot of red is now no more a haphazard line

His shirt is now no longer white..


And the distant look, totally calm and quiet

I wondered what it really took.

A swish of knife and there it was…

As the clock struck 7, there he was

“Whore” he called me “come here now

Get my liquor and food right here! Right now!

Then unbuckle my belt and lie around

I will give you what you really want”

Perplexed I stood hearing him shout

“Whore! You listening?” he called on and on

With each word that he spoke

Something within me just broke

Chains of fear, love and loath

His thorny touch, thrash and kiss

Is this all what my marriage really is?

And while I stood thinking of the git

With a louder “whore” a punch came following it

The plates, the spoon and the knife

Fell on the heap by my side

Kick after kick. Blow after blow,

They kept coming in a row!

The choice was now simple and clear

Being liberated or dying of fear

It felt like as if the time was right

With trembling hands, I clutched the knife

A swish of hand and he fell down with his beloved wife!

The eyes were drowned in shock and loath,

Oh I so loved the mixture of both!

With all the strength I flipped around,

Sat over him as if to make love..

His muscles relaxed and he smiled

The knife went down his heart in a while

Perplexed with pain he called my name

“Whore I am, now don’t be lame!”

The little dot of red is now no more a haphazard line

His shirt is now no longer white..


And the distant look,

A swish of knife is all that it took!

- Sudarshana Sivaram M.A Development

’13 – ’15

My law and governance practicum took me to the Bangalore Central Jail. I wrote this poem, overwhelmed by emotion after meeting a woman clad in a white sari who was convicted for the murder of her husband. Just as the protagonist of this poem, the same sorry state of affairs exist in the jails across the country, where a majority of women are serving a sentence for killing their husbands.

Doesn’t our law need to be more responsive? What’s the point in simply following the rule book thoughtlessly?

I seek justice.


This Valentine’s Day,

I fell in love again.

I have not fallen in love many times before.

I do not fall or rise too quickly.

I savour the succour – the saccharine, forget-all-

else nectar.

I savour the sickly sucker of aftermath that drains

me like a virus.

The sucker lets me know what I have left.

But this Valentine’s Day,


I have remained in a general state of hope.

I bury my head to hopelessness I can do nothing

about.

Stickly toddlers on the road.

I see the three of them stop

in between all the cars-

Babies, surrounded by Automatons -

with their balloons for sale,

with her hula hoop in hand,

they lean on a car’s back tire to chat -

a car that will speed off when the light turns green.

I know they will not get hurt.

I look at them from the side view mirror

And see them rapt in conversation

They have forgotten the little girl in the car ahead -

looking longingly at the mini mouse balloon.

They are impoverishedly adept

Against the thugs individually parcelled in the traffic.

I know they will not get hurt.

For the moment, their life-threatening urgency,

is to Talk and Laugh.

But this Valentine’s Day,


A session on inclusion in education,

Opening up perspective,

Remembering what the Constitution stands for,

“Justice, Liberty, Equality, Fraternity,”

CRY HOPE Feel it with me,

“Justice, Liberty, Equality, Fraternity”.

The teachers tell me their experiences:

They have given their love, their toil, their sweat, their

cheer

Intervention, intervention and hours of attempting,

Trying, trying, trying, trying

The doctors don’t care

The stunted are still

The teachers are shackled by the won’t of Will

‘We Will help,’ they keep hearing.

No one comes.

Some children stay in school, with hopes of nothing.

No hopes on them, no hope for them.

Will,

The flickering lights in their eyes

be snuffed out,

One by one?

Or Will

I not let it -

One by one!

This Valentine’s Day,


I saw hopelessness.

I did not bury my head.

I cried for all the lives lost while living.

I did not cry for only the children,

I did not cry for only the women,

I did not cry for only my tribesmen,

I did not cry for only my countrymen,

I did not cry for what I am able,

I cried, instead, for everything human.

These are my wounds of Real,

These are my welts of Encounter

But these are,

Also,

My hot tears of Hope.

- Sneha Subramaniam M.A. Education, ’11 – ’13

(Karvan’s first Editor)

The red buildings between the lush green trees that I saw

on the Vikasana website kept flashing in my mind as I went

on during the long drive to Vikasana the school. I looked

forward to seeing the bulbuls, kingfishers, woodpeckers and

monkeys in the school campus. I was eager to see the school

which taught its children pottery, how to repair buildings, how

to grow vegetables and how to collect firewood.

When I got down at the Thataguni bus stop, I was received

by one of the teachers from the school, who was already

there waiting for me. We chatted all the way to the school

happily. She pointed to a small white building next to an

empty ground and said, “That’s our new building”. I was

shocked.

Later, I learnt that the school had lost its entire property

including many structures constructed by the children over

the last 35 years to a person who promised to help them.

Coming from families of low socio-economic backgrounds

and unhealthy environments, for many children, the school

was their second, or probably even first, home. The kids

would generally spend most of their time in school, going

back home only for a few hours to meet their parents.

The school is now run in a small building which was offered

to them by two sisters. The new school premises cannot

house the children. Except for a small patch of land where

they grow around ten plants, there is no space for trees or

animals. The children share their playground with a nearby

temple.

I could feel the immense pride in Malathiakka’s voice when

she said, “All my students stood for me. All of them fought

for me.” But she was extremely upset that the children are

no longer getting the rich lessons that they were used to and

have lost out on the rich learning that they were previously

exposed to. I too had expected to learn a lot from these

lessons that the school was imparting to its children. But

within the first few days of my visit to the school, I realized

that there was much more to learn from the school than I

had imagined. The spirit of the school and the motivation to

keep it going was alive in each member of the school. Every

single person cherished the memories of the old school, but

none saw its loss as a reason to sit back. The spirit of the

school and the motivation to keep it going was alive in each

member of the school.

Malathiakka, in spite of her age, does not leave any stone

unturned to establish resources for the school. With the

help of volunteers who work in close connection with the

school, multiple excursions are arranged for the children

both inside and outside Bangalore. Academic and gardening

classes are arranged for at least a few students in one of

the volunteer’s house. There are some volunteers who visit

the school to teach the children academic subjects. Each

of these volunteers are given the flexibility to use their own

pedagogical methods, thus giving the children exposure

to multiple ways of learning. The teachers of the school

understand not only the need for academic and vocational

learning, but also their personal problems of 30 students.

And finally, I would like to speak about the children. All the

lessons I learnt on child development and identity formation

in the last two years have not yet helped me figure out how

these little children were able to deal with such a huge

blow with so much sophistication. They not only coped with

the situation bravely but have not given up and continue

to be hopeful. They did not lose the positive attitude they

had developed because of their school. During my 6-week

engagement with the school, I saw them preparing for a new

fight – a poster campaign requesting the devotees of the

temple to keep their playground clean.

Each day at the school taught me lessons on motivation,

determination, courage, trust and confidence, leaving me

inspired. I wait to go back to the school not just to learn more

but to receive the immense love and affection each member

of the school gave me. The learning and the affectionate

relationships fostered with the members of the school make

me want to go back to Vikasana.

MY EXPERIENCE WITH VIKASANA- Samvartika Nalam, M.A Education, ’12 – ’14


It has been four months since I first used the phrase “I am

a teacher,” while responding to the classic questions like

“What do you do for a living?” It felt awkward then, and it

still feels awkward now. It is not easy to entitle oneself as a

‘teacher’; the term carries the weight of responsibility and a

pre-assigned value of goodness and nobility. When I decided

I wanted to work with children, what excited me was the idea

of being responsible for another individual’s learning and

growth. It filled me with a sense of being a giver. Well, that

was rather narcissistic, wasn’t it? Four months on, that is

something that has definitely gone for a toss!

Four months into being a teacher, it is that same idea that

weighs me down. The idea of being responsible for another

individual; being responsible for the time a child spends in

school, which accounts for a large part of his/her childhood.

And to think I stand a chance to make that a memorable

experience that the child could look back on and hold on

to, fills me with excitement on one hand while leaving me

overwhelmed on the other.

It is a fight. Many days, it is a fight with oneself; a fight to hold

back and not impose oneself on the very impressionable

child. Being a teacher, does not entitle one to guide another’s

interests and learning. It only allows one to offer one’s own

experiences and knowledge for the child to play around with,

gaining some and giving some, but moving on from there.

The teacher is not the start or the end of any exploration;

the teacher is but one of the many experiences in the

exploration. Often, I forget this. I struggle, every moment as

a teacher to remind myself of this belief and stand by it; else,

I become a gatekeeper to another’s experiences. And that is

no good, isn’t it?

Some days I think I make it worthwhile. The school

experience gains meaning. One cannot be contained in

another’s ideas; one can only negotiate with the other’s

idea and take off from there. A child cannot be contained in

the plan of a teacher. This is what I have come to believe

and yet struggle to put into practise. My being as a teacher

counts when that allows me to explore with a child, what he/

she is stimulated by; that shared moment when what I have

to offer fits in sync with the child to propel him to discover

further, that is the part of being a teacher that I hold close

and cherish.

Having said this, I would like to share a recent experience

that left me in wonderment. One morning, the children got

to school early like most other days. My co-teacher and I

decided to let them be by themselves for a while before

starting the day as usual. But this day turned out to be a

big happy surprise for us! As we walked towards class, we

could hear a buzz of movement, chatter and giggles. All the

children were busy cleaning up the space outside our class.

Some plucked out the weeds, some removed waste articles,

some swept, and some cleaned the provisional pavement of

broken stones. We were stunned and couldn’t supress the

lurking smile on both of our faces! The children then painted

the slabs of broken stone that make for a path with red mud

and made a rangoli at the entrance. The children now own

their classroom space. They attach themselves to it enough

to want to work with, change it and maintain it. We have

decided to start a garden of sorts in the space they have

cleared out.

I was so proud of my children and it felt so good! This is how

I feel about being a teacher so far and I’m excited about my

journey onwards.

ON BEING A TEACHER …

(This shared experience of being a teacher comes from a first time school teacher. She recently graduated from the University and this is

her first formal employment as a student facilitator/ teacher. She works in an NGO run school, Namma Nalanda Vidyapeetha, in Kundapura,

Karnataka. The school is in its second year of operations. They have about 90 children and 9 teachers currently. 70% of the children live on

campus and come with troubled experiences; some having lost their families quite early in life. These are mostly children from migrant families.

The remaining 30% of children are day scholars who come from homes in Kundapura.)

- Ankita Rajashekharan, M.A. Education, ’11 – ’13

In the summer of 2013, I came to Bangalore to begin my field

research. During this time, I was given the opportunity to

teach at Azim Premji University. I was nervous as I had never

taught in the Indian context. I was born and brought up in

the United States, and have always interacted with students

in that context.

The students I have gotten a chance to know well have

been engaged and enthusiastic to do something different.

They have been willing to critically engage with my ideas and

have pushed me to learn as much as I have taught them.

This is one thing I hope my students take away from our

interactions: there is nothing better than deconstructing the

teacher-student hierarchy and finding ways in which we can

learn from and teach one another. You all have a ton to learn,

but you also have a lot you can contribute. The two are not

mutually exclusive.

Start reflecting critically on our own experiences

Part of what I wanted students to realize is that issues of

inequality don’t just exist ‘out there’ i.e. somewhere that does

not pertain to each and everyone of us. Rather, power and

hierarchy exist in our social positions, our interactions, and

our beliefs. Beginning to reflect upon our own positions, I

think, is the first step in being politically and ethically engaged

intellectuals.

I won’t pretend that this is easy or that we (or I) have been

truly successful. Its scary to begin to realize our own faults

and how unstable all that we’ve learned really is. We need to

think more critically about our engagements with the world, for

example, in how we speak to our ‘help’ or how we characterize

communities different from our own. I would continue to

suggest that you try to break your own linguistic, caste, and

class comfort zones to befriend and learn from those who

are different from yourselves. The best way to challenge and

develop your own beliefs is to be around people who you

respect and have differing views from your own.

Take the practicum seriously

One of the things that really appealed to me about Azim

Premji University was the opportunity that you all have to

immerse yourself in practical work, in schools, with NGOs,

etc. It’s a privilege to have such easy access to sites that you

all may never have been exposed to and I hope you all take

every opportunity to engage and learn.

A lot of you say you’re interested in changing the educational

system, in being a ‘change agent’ and creating something

better. Actually doing what you’ve said you want to do is

hard. It requires showing up when you’re tired, deciding to

read when you want to watch TV or go out, and challenging

your friends who might say things you don’t agree with when

it’d be much easier to just remain silent. (It doesn’t mean you

can’t have fun. There is lots of room to have crazy, weird, life-

changing experiences. Most of them involve listening to and

befriending those whose lives are different from our own).

It also means taking every opportunity to be in the field, ask

questions, and squeeze every last bit of learning you can

out of these opportunities. Language is not a barrier nor is

experience nor is access nor is time. Those of you I’ve been

most impressed by have taken on multiple tasks, said yes to

tons of opportunities, and then followed through, knowing that

the process of actually doing, and really working hard, can’t

be replaced. I’ve loved being on the bus with all of you, while

you’re tired as hell, but chatting away about what you’ve

seen, what you’re doing, what you’re learning.

My point here is that complaining about what is missing is

easy. Working within those limitations and making an exciting

space for yourself is a lot harder and also way more fun. If

someone gives you a ‘no’, find someone else who will say

‘yes’. It’s scary to decide to do this, because you actually

have to try, have to commit completely to a process, and you

might still fail.

REFLECTIONS ON TEACHING AT AZIM PREMJI UNIVERSITY- Arjun Shankar, Sociology of Education


Once upon a time, there was a girl who was a part of the sea.

She floated on it, bobbing up and down on the gentle swell

of the waves, going wherever the current took her. She knew

nothing except vast water and open sky, and the occasional

aquatic passerby. To her, stillness was a gentle, swaying

quality, and warmth the rich waters of the Gulf Stream. Home

was everywhere, the vastness of the ocean matching the

vastness of her soul.

Then one day, a sudden storm cast her upon a lonely beach,

and for the first time, she felt solid ground. The sensation was

novel, and she felt off balance, like she was falling and flying

at the same time. She waited for the ground to carry her in

drifts like the ocean did, but it remained solid. The sun rose,

and she saw birds, and trees, and crabs, and crackled bits of

shell. Then she saw someone approaching.

He was a boy who was a part of the land. He lived by the

shore of the sea, drawn by its beauty, by its vastness and

ever-changing form and colors. The sea had brought him

gifts before - a large conch shell, pink and webbed with

translucent white veins, pieces of glass, old driftwood that he

carved into tables and chairs, and once, a glass bottle with a

letter inside, that had crumbled in his hand after he read the

opening words “If you are reading”.

A red rose, a string of white jasmines, the fragrant water lilies, flamboyant gulmohars, a pristine lotus and your favourite

crossandra flowers. These were the flowers I picked as I walked around in search of flowers for you.

I placed the red rose in the centre, and the crossandras and jasmines around the rose. The lotus took its place at the edge and

gulmohars and water lilies were sprinkled around.

Happy Birthday, Amma. I love you and this is the best I could do to match the rose that you used to pin to the blouse of your

saree, the garland of jasmines and crossandras that you kept in your hair, the water lily perfume you loved to wear, the lotus

coloured saree I always picture you in and the bunch of gulmohars I always got you. You are still alive in my heart.

A FRAGRANT MEMORY

A SEA STORY

- Sai Sushma Karra, M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15

- Sanjana Shelar, M.A. Development, ’12 – ’14

When he saw the girl, he stopped and stared. He walked up

to her slowly, cautiously, and asked her name, and where she

came from. She did not understand him. He saw her strange

beauty, saw that she looked half-dead, and decided that she

was the sea’s gift to him. So he picked her up, pulled her

from the water’s edge, and took her with him to his house on

the shore.

She slowly began to understand him, and to understand

how to live and move on the land. She was intrigued and

challenged by simple things like how to lift an arm, how to put

one foot in front of another, how to eat a coconut split in half.

She stayed because of that. But there was another thing that

kept her there, too, something she had only acknowledged

to herself. The boy’s touch, from the first moment he’d

placed his fingers on her wrist to check her pulse, was unlike

anything she'd felt before. It felt like coming to a home she’d

never even realized she missed. It felt more real, more alive,

than anything she’d ever experienced. The land seemed to

offer her a similar embrace. The feeling of solidity, of safety,

that she found on land was a sensation that felt so new, yet

so undeniably right. It was as though she had been waiting

for it all her life.

But she missed the waves, the sensation of drifting, of moving

wherever the tides willed her. She began to grow restless. So

she told the boy she wanted to see the world, and the boy

told her to go in peace, and to return to him someday. He told

her he wouldn’t forget.

She left, and saw the world for a time. But nowhere did she

find the feeling of home that she had had with the boy in

his house on the beach. So she went back, traveling slowly,

slightly dejectedly. Being away from the sea drained her.

The boy, meanwhile, felt for the first time an absence in his

life. The sea was no longer his friend, because it was the

one who threatened to take the girl away. The girl was no

longer there, and he came to be afraid, he came to resent her

absence and her need to drift. He began to think that he had

been foolhardy in believing that the girl from the sea would

ever stay by his side. The pain of being separated from her

was too sharp, and so he began to close himself off from her.

More and more, he spent days in the nearest town, where

he sold his tables and chairs outside a small cafe. Soon, he

met a girl who worked there, and whose aroma of cinnamon,

fresh-baked bread, and dusty coffee grounds seemed to

plant itself in the back of his mind. He still thought of the girl

from the sea every day, but in his mind, she began to change

into an exotic creature whom he could never fully know, from

the friend and confidante who had lain in his arms listening to

his stories and poems and innermost thoughts.

When she returned to him, he was stricken by guilt, and by

fear, and by the sharp longing he felt in her presence. She

saw the turmoil in his eyes, and asked him what was wrong.

He told her that he could not have her close to him any

more, that it would be better if she moved away, built her

own hut, perhaps, found her own secluded beach. She could

not understand the change in him, until one day she met the

girl from the cafe, who had come to collect shells to line the

tables. They talked, and they became friends. One day, the

girl from the cafe told her, haltingly, about the boy.

The girl from the sea felt the earth fall silent, and then slowly,

infinitesimally, it began to move. Up and down, up and down.

The girl looked at her friend to see if she felt it, too, but the

girl from the cafe seemed not to notice. The girl from the sea

understood then that this was the sea’s way of calling to her,

and the land’s way of telling her that it was time to leave. So

she left, walking into the sea after her friend had left, feeling

the strange familiarity of its waves undulating around her

body.

She drifted, waiting for the familiar vastness and peace, but

it never quite reached her. She yearned for solid land, yet

longed for the freedom of the ocean. She missed the boy.

But this was her life now, she knew. Every once in a while,

the waves would bring her a drifting leaf, a piece of straw,

a fragment of a butterfly’s wings, and she would feel once

again the fierce embrace of the land - and of the boy. Then

she cried until the salt of her eyes mixed with the salt of the

sea and she felt a part of the waves again.


Love movies and start making them, please

The most fun I have is challenging the ‘text-centric’ bias that

we generally have in universities. You’ve been socialized to

think that learning in a classroom involves books, essays,

and tests. That’s something I’ve tried hard to challenge.

We all go home and watch movies, TV shows, and whatever

we find on YouTube. That’s great! But we can’t just do this

passively, as if what is happening on the screen isn’t laced

with political, moral, and ethical statements. We have to train

ourselves to watch these media products critically and realize

what they are messaging us. When we watch a Fair & Lovely

advertisement, we have to be willing to recognize what is

being implied and what is being reinforced about beauty and

skin color. We also have to be willing to decide that this is not

okay and make a change in how we ourselves speak and act

in the world.

The flip side of this is we have to be willing to use these

technologies ourselves. If we are going to reach people,

one of the best ways is through images. Given the linguistic

diversity of a country like India, showing rather than telling is

one of our most useful tools. I’ve learned so much about film

and photography from all of you, and what I would really ask

of you all is to challenge anyone who says you can’t create

intellectually rigorous products that are films or multimedia

based. Even I’m from a generation that grew up before

computers ruled the world, and I still have an irrational love of

books. You all should love books too, but you can push totally

new methods for telling stories and producing research. I

really hope you do.

Can’t wait to see all of you again soon!


It was a bright sunny day; the sun was shining with all its

might. The birds flew all around in search of food while

chirping and tweeting their coarse tunes. A cuckoo flew past

the garden and sat on the tree stealthily watching a nest

which lay near to her. All this was happening while I sat on

the steps of my porch, staring at the emptiness lost in deep

thought.

It all began about three years back, when I accidently found

the documents in my mother’s cupboard. I was looking for

my vaccination card schedule since our teacher had asked

us to bring it to school as part of our science project. While

looking for my vaccination schedule I stumbled across an

old file which had a blue tape across it. It looked old and yet

untouched. Having little control over my curiosity, I quickly got

a pair of scissors, made a little slit at one corner of the file

and quickly opened it. What I saw in that file, was something

I never thought I’d ever see or dream of. There lay a stack

of papers, with a lot of legal terms and signatures. I couldn’t

understand what they were, but I was determined to find

out what they meant since they looked important. I flipped

through the pages skimming over the contents of the page

quietly trying to make sense of what those typed words on the

pages meant. I saw my name on one of the pages, and then

I stopped on that page and read it carefully.

I once read somewhere that words can kill as good as a gun,

and that line made so much sense to me at that moment.

I couldn’t believe what I was reading. It all slowly began to

make sense. Hoping that it was just a bad dream, I pinched

myself half hoping I’d wake up and sigh in relief that it was all

but a bad dream. Alas! That didn’t happen; I could very much

feel the pinch and see my skin turning red and swelling up

thanks to the pinch. The papers said I was adopted. But how

could that be possible? People often said I had my father’s

nose, then how could I be adopted? I had my mother’s

temper, that can’t be a coincidence! Or could it? It just didn’t

make sense anymore. From confusion, betrayal, anger to

sorrow, I was feeling every grim emotion possible.

Three years flew by and I still can’t accept the shocking

revelation I discovered. Time and again, I subtly hint at my

parents, trying to nudge them to confess to me about the

adoption. It never happened; they never confessed to me

and chose to keep me in the dark, thinking I didn’t know

anything about it. But as time passed by, I started wondering

about who I was? Who my parents were? Where they were?

Did they miss me? Did they even think of me? Or was I just

another unwanted child walking the face of this earth. I don’t

have the answers to my questions. But I always thought for

several hours about the answers to these questions. Often

weaving stories, mostly happy ones, but occasionally when

I am sad, a really sad one about my past. But at the end of

the day, they were just a fragment of my imagination, not the

truth. But these stories often comforted my troubled mind. At

least I could end the stories the way I wanted to and steer

them just the way I’d like it. Someday I’ll know the truth, which

may be better and more comforting than the stories that I had

in my head or may be a sad tragic one which I won’t be able

to endure.

Just then, my mother called out for me. Running inside I

found my father holding a cake and all my friends singing

“Happy Birthday” at the top of their lungs. My mother and

father buried me in a huge hug while kissing me and wishing

me birthday wishes.

The cuckoo, which sat next to a nest stealthily watching over

it, laid its egg while singing a sweet melody and then quickly

flew away before the crows arrived.

CUCKOO’S BIRTHDAY-Sai Sushma Karra, M.A. Development, ’13 – ’15


- By Ruchi Mittal, M.A.Education, ’13 – ’15

An Attempt at fiction writing

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

He looked up from the book he was reading, surprised to see

her looking a little apprehensive. Putting the book down, he

leaned forward on the table. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“So we’ve been really good friends for a while, and I’ve been

meaning to ask you this, but I wasn’t sure if I should because

I don’t want things to get awkward and all, but I feel like I

really need to know the answer,” she said in a single breath.

“Whoa! What’s going on?” He asked, feeling a little

apprehensive himself, wondering for a brief moment if he

was about to hear some crazy declaration of love.

“Are you gay?”

He stared at her in silence. His expression showed that this

was clearly not the question he was expecting, but mixed in

with the incredulity there seemed to be a bit of relief as well.

“Why do you ask?” He said eventually, and she felt herself

relax a little. At least there wasn’t an angry outburst.

“Just curious.”

He looked at her seriously for a few seconds, as though

searching for something in her gaze, and she tried her best

not to hide anything in her expression.

“Yeah, I am,” he said eventually.

She closed her eyes and let out the deep breath that she had

been holding in. “Oh thank god! This would have been such

an awkward conversation otherwise!” she said, and he burst

out laughing.

“That’s your only reaction?!” he laughed out, relaxing visibly

himself.

She opened her eyes to look directly at him. “Well, what do

you want me to say? I mean, you’re Muslim. You’re Pakistani.

And you’re gay. You’re basically screwed, dude,” she said in

the most matter-of-fact tone she could muster, as they both

doubled over in laughter, ignoring the curious gazes of the

other customers at the coffee shop.

**********

“Thanks,” he said, pulling her out of her day dream. That

familiar half-smile on her face clearly meant that she had

been lost in some old memories.

“Any time,” she said, smiling back. “Although I suppose you

already knew that, considering you showed up here at 3 a.m.”

He chuckled softly, and saw her face fill with a sense of

relief. They sat there, smiling quietly at each other for a few

seconds. He could feel the warmth of the coffee seeping

through him, and the familiar smell of caffeine slowly brought

his senses back to life. Just sitting there with the hot cup in

his hands, he could feel his thoughts returning back to him.

“Want to talk about it?”

His smile dropped instantly, as the question brought with it

a crashing sense of reality. He wanted to tell her, but didn’t

know where to begin.

INSTANT COFFEE


Azim Premji UniversityPixel Park, B Block, PESSE Campus,Electronics City, Hosur Road (Beside NICE Road)Bangalore 560100

karvan may 2014| - azim premji...

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