Soumya's Weird Musings

"Promise me I'll be able to come back here in four years." Because four years is what she would have to spend before finally pursuing her dreams in the place that had grown to mean so much to her. And so she hoped. "It 's all changed so much! I don 't want to spend another day there, take me back!" Even the ruins of what her childhood school had been we're nowhere to be seen. She sobbed at the thought of spending four – no, five – years here before she could go back. She had her family and her teacher to give her solace that the years would pass in the blink of an eye. Things would get better. And so she hoped. " I thought I would have a ch ance to cons ider! Why don 't I get to say no!?" This line became quite familiar in the Dhavale household as she began to explore herself and inadvertently showcase her talents.  All the while, her thoughts kept playing on a loop: This woul dn't have hap pened years ago. This wou ldn...

If I'm spaced–out and smiling, I don't want to explain why. If my facial muscles are relaxed but I look like I'm angry, I will not hear a word about it. If you catch tears in my eyes (won't that be the day) but I say I want to be alone, I swear to you that's all I want. I promise I'll seek companionship when I need it. I am enough of an open book for my liking, but you won't get me wearing my heart on my sleeve. I say what I mean, and I have an extensive vocabulary for doing just that. But if you push these primary boundaries, if my anger gets the better of me… …You will find yourself being rattled by the collar. Can't you just take me for who I am?

I've always thought – and I'm pretty sure I'm right – that your talents are your own to take pride in and to use. You're supposed to be proud of who you are and what you stand for, and you should be free to make decisions on how you're going to use what you've been given to use. If you've been reading this blog regularly (and I hope you have), you might know where this is going. This has something to do with school. But I've decided I'm going to write about it regardless, because it needs to be put out there so people can recognize the student's side of what schools so heavily advertise. Because when you read an article on how students went to Mauritius for a summit, they don't tell you that the students slept for less than five hours every night. And it is this side that I try to present. So, talents. I've been recognized to have many. I have trouble seeing them in myself, but if my actions speak louder than my words, then I'm su...

It is my sincere regret and an item on my long list of worries that I am incapable of understanding the gravity of a situation right when it's happening. I'm not sure how much longer "I'm too young to understand" will remain an excuse. This doubt is the result of a few scattered incidents; only two of them stand out. In the beginning of 2011, when I was 10 years old and in fifth grade, Pt. Bhimsen Joshi had passed away. I did not understand the full weight of this (despite having researched him so my class could give a presentation on him), lil' young-in that I was. Five years later, I heard a few songs he sang, and I realized something: enjoying beauty and recognizing beauty are two different things. I recognize the beauty in the voices of Jayteerth Mevundi, Anand Bhate, Dr. Vasantrao Deshpande, Kumar Gandharva, and other classical music singers. I consider it a flaw, a side effect of the fact that I am a teenage, that I cannot enjoy this. But I digress. ...

I have a voice. I have the words to communicate what I'm feeling. I have a platform, however small it may be. I have something to say. It doesn't take much more than that to get talking or writing. It is a liberating experience, and people do you listen once you start. The first time around, it's a free-for-all. The second time, though: legitimacy does come in. What determines legitimacy? There are two distinct answers for that that I have found so far: one at school and one at home, because these have been the two biggest spheres of my life. At home, the answer has always been that legitimacy – and even high regard – come about when what the speaker speaks is something that should be heard, similarly for writing. The value of thoughts at home is high, and I pride my family and being thinkers. It spurs my belief that I should be heard because I am saying something that is worthy of being heard. It's highly subjective, but then, that's what allows the existenc...

I have had my second "Hallelujah" moment of 2018. And again, it's only a reminder of what I should've known all along. All of last month, I've let myself believe that my abilities and specialties can be counted on one hand. I distanced myself from the "Believe in Yourself" trope and avoided thinking that I was strong or smart. That has started to change now. It started at the beginning of this month, when I found out that my grandparents' anniversary was in a week. This calls for  one of my special handmade gifts, I thought. Now, I had visions in my head for what I could do, and I decided to use one of those. I am proud to say that it turned out exactly as I envisioned it – in fact, I posted a picture on Facebook. I'm very proud of that work of mine, as I am proud of everything I've ever made. It made me realize, though: this is a trait I've always had. The visions I have in my head of the things I'll make have become a rea...

 I've touched on this topic before. In high school, I've been the type of person from whom people expected great things. Among those "great things" was getting a perfect score on tests and exams. It didn't matter if it was an inconsequential exam. Teachers expected a perfect score from me in an environment where 45 out of 70 was the  highest score in my class during the half yearly exams. Make no mistake – the final year of school is the hardest. Now, getting a perfect score is usually the least of my worries. But I haven't been very kind to myself. In my senior year, I got greedy. I pushed myself to the point of "ready to drop to the floor right now" exhaustion.  Perfect attendance, perfect scores... I deluded myself into thinking that this is what constitutes the perfect senior year. All the while, my perfect health kept slipping. It's funny how long epiphanies take to happen, but when they do, they rock your world to its foundations. My...

Who needs validation when you've got your own little tight-knit group making your day as vibrant as the last? When you're friends with them, there's something other than studies at school to look forward to. In the middle of a particularly sucky day at school (which happens often), there is no one you trust more than them to lift your spirits. When, after two years of getting comfortable with them, you announce that you're about to leave, no one is more upset than them. Throughout the course of your life, no matter where you are, you wonder what they might be up to. You try to get (and keep) in touch, but you can't do  that for too long, because life. Before you know it, social media is the only thing that keeps you connected. You see that those who stayed have patched up past feuds, and wonder if you could've done the same thing if you'd stayed. Then you remember that you're not really the forgiving type. The nostalgia gets to you so much...

This is something that had a profound impact on me, but it took me a while to realize to realize its exact profoundness. When I was in sixth grade, there was a girl in my class who was a ballet dancer. When I first found that out, I told her offhandedly that I like ballet (to this day, it remains my favorite form of dance). I had only just started learning ballet myself. A while later, after I forgot about my remark, she gave me a gold-and-silver shain with a pendant in the shape of a ballerina. It was simple and elegant, nothing too fancy. Just the kind of jewelry I like. I still have it, six years later. I asked her why she gave me this. As offhandedly as I told her that I like ballet, she told me, "Well, you said you like ballet." I did not understand why that warranted her doing something about it, but I understand it now, with help from my mother. Before this incident, I thought that these opinions of who likes what were light and casual, but after this and a fe...

"What has been your greatest failure?" The utility of this question should have been limited to discerning whether or not I was a worthy candidate for the "Ms. Intellectual" award at our school's farewell, but I haven't stopped thinking about this question. When I had been asked this question, I had to think off the top of my head. Certainly I could not say I did not have any failures; I am far from perfect and I never want to lose sight of that. I ended up saying that being a pushover was my biggest failure. It's a good answer, if I do say so myself, especially off the top of my head. It's right up there among my failures. The thing is, it's really hard to put a finger on what my greatest failure might be. The reason is that I'm biased. I catch myself saying that I hate myself quite often, though in jest, and I balance it out by telling myself that I love myself, too. I haven't delved too deeply into self-hatred; I work very hard...

That annoying red layer that forms on top of iron, due to oxidation on exposure to air and/or moisture. Staying there, degrading and weakening the metal till it has to be replaced. I have a confession to make. I've rusted over. Just like with iron, I don't know when it started. But as I look back, the layer of rust is startling. Call it what you want – a thick layer of paint covers my true colors, that really the only thing that's happened is that I've narrowed myself down to one facet of what makes me, me . None of that is very appealing. There are many things I value – languages, art, philosophy, the performing arts, acting in plays, expressing my views, reading – but the thing I focus on most is science. Rightly so, maybe, because I can't imagine my life without the pursuit of it. What I fear is how much I've left behind, and what it will take to recover it. This is exactly what I had feared – that I would, essentially, become a shell of the pers...