Soumya's Weird Musings

A couple of unsettling events prompt me to write this. One of those events is people defending – and admitting to liking – a man named Adolf Hitler. If I could spit his name in writing, I would. I loathe the man responsible for killing six million Jews , who was the centre of a World freaking War, who turned many surviving Jews atheist. Imagine a man being so cruel that you lose your belief in God – in the idea that there can be good in the world. No, being a good speaker is not a redeeming quality, goddammit! Go back and read what I wrote about legitimacy. See, Indians wouldn't have tolerated mention of that man if it were Hindus – or heck, simply other Indians – he was targeting. We still feel sour about the British Raj, so my imagination is not far-fetched. So this is my response to whoever dares defend him to me. Fine, he was a good speaker. But good speaker does not equate to good person , not if his speeches moved crowds to commit genocide ...

I've been sitting on this for so long, I can't even find the words to begin. Maybe narrating this as a story will help? Moving back from the US to India had been one heck of a shift, in many aspects. For me, the most noticeable (and most complained about, I'll freely admit) shift happened with the education systems of both countries. I've tried putting that shift into words many times, but I never seemed to find any. There's a fundamental strictness in Indian schools that there isn't in American ones. In two years, I'd just about had it. I had a glorious nine-minute rant about what I'd discovered. Creativity and individualism seemed to have no place in my school. I realized that I was the teachers' beloved because I was "responsible." But my sense of responsibility only stemmed from my ability to make mistakes and learn from them. But how was I supposed to fare if I wasn't even allowed to make mistakes? Education is an interplay of ...

"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...