In Memoriam

I'm sure all of us have one specific drawer or maybe even a huge carton stacked up somewhere containing fragments of memories worth preserving. Old books, letters, cards, scraps of doodled paper...it's an endless list of things we never wish to depart with. I have one such box right under my bed. My paintings, old textbooks, cards from long forgotten friends, records, an autograph book and well, a few more paintings. But buried somewhere deep in the corner, is a folder that I cherish the most. Answer sheets from school examinations. Except for the obvious lack of Math papers, (conveniently burnt or tossed in the trash) I have preserved all my favourite answer sheets starting from 9th grade. 

I opened that box today. And if nostalgia hadn't gotten to me already, it did when an answer sheet dated 11th December, 2009 caught my attention. Second Terminal Exam, English Paper 1.

"How would you like to perpetrate your memory after death? What legacy do you wish to leave behind? Write an essay in not more than 500 words."

Here is sixteen year old naivete speaking from her world of rainbows and silver linings:                                           ________________________________________________________________

                                   
                              In Memoriam...

I never gave much thought to how I would die. However, a peculiar idea did occur to me while I was hammering my fast depleting grey cells in a futile attempt to learn when and how Hitler committed suicide after the Second World War.

People crave greatness, a few  achieve it and fewer still make it into academic curriculum. And that is when they ruin it- leaving behind a trail of encumbered children, cursing and pelting abuse. I am one among those kids. On the eve of my History examination, I frankly do not care if Gandhiji walked the stretch of a coastline to secure us freedom (for I will not feel fully liberated until I can escape the dread of reproducing seemingly useless facts on paper.) I would also take a minute to point out my profound disappointment in Mr. Hitler. Contribute THREE WHOLE chapters to the world, and commit suicide on the last page?! Maybe a more dramatic planned assassination would have been a fitting and an acceptable end.

So that very instant, my brain took a solemn oath. Duty to mankind, especially students, is my idea of service. Which is why- despite all of my mother’s dreams of placing a Nobel statuette on my mantelpiece- I have decided not to do anything so significant that would etch my name in the pages of History. I know only too well what happens to such people.

Well, about the question of how I would like my memory to be perpetrated after my death, I have humble aspirations. I want my friends, my family and my teachers to remember me as the hyperactive, ever enthusiastic girl who on one hand can be astonishingly silly, but on the other hand can shoulder responsibility with great diligence. Grant me that and my soul would be the happiest thing in the Heavens.

I do want my share of success. Who doesn’t? I wish to be a journalist, a choice that gets consolidated each day looking at the dire state of news channels in the country today. Our news is more commercial than realistic, more biased than truthful. I intend to reverse it. And that is my second wish: to be remembered as the person who stood up for what is right, without hesitation.

I am passing out of school this year. God alone knows where what will lead me. One thing that I do know is that I DO NOT want to be the same person I am today. I want to be bigger. I want to be better. I want to be stronger. I intend to touch the lives of everyone around me, be a part of their lives and be of value.  I want to ensure that no person feels like he/she has wasted a part of their lives over me.

No gold, no riches, no lengthy legacies. I am to be remembered as the girl who brought sunshine in every one’s life she touched. I hope what I say is not forgotten, my stupid jokes do not get stale and that my essays remain etched in your memory forever.

“Beep beep” goes my phone. It’s a message from my best friend. “Hey! How many chapters are you planning to skip in History?”

“If possible, ALL.”

With a curse, a groan and unspeakable agony, I get back to Hitler’s disgraceful suicide. My resolution strengthens with every page I read.

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I chuckle. So much has changed. I am definitely not the person I was back then, but I am not too sure if I have become bigger or better or stronger. The change has been radical, whether for the better or for the worse, I do not know. I still wish to be remembered as the girl who brought in sunshine, if only I had some within myself. I still hope my silly jokes do not stale with time, if only I could laugh over them myself. I still wish my essays would last in your memories, if only my presence could do the same.

I still wish I had the optimism of a sixteen year old, if only reality hadn't aged my spirit beyond years.

I was always told every cloud has a silver lining. I've come to realize now that the converse is also true and much closer to reality.

The Ugly Little Liar

Once upon a time there was a whore. She authored a blog. Here is what she had to say:
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I'm tired of living a lie. Of trying to make myself believe it's not a lie. They say seeing is believing, but what if everything that you see only pushes you further into disbelief? And amidst all the doubt, I have to shrug, smile and play along like it's the most genuine thing in the world. I have to live a double fraud. I have to get defrauded and I have to continue to perpetrate that fraud without acknowledging it as one.

I do not know how much longer I can pull this stunt- I'm tired. Justifiably so because it has not been easy. It's never easy to keep one's side of the bargain with so much diligence only to watch it being flagrantly violated by the other faction. Today I'm at a stage that I think is the detritus of the human soul. Im a decay product of a person who inherently believed in good and lived by it, only to face a tragic death at the hands of sheer deceit. I remember I was a person when I started out but inevitably ended up as a whore. I ended up with not an iota of dignity or self respect within me. Worse because of my acceptance to live so. I'm no longer the person who cares about anything any longer. I work in my capacity as a whore and I get paid accordingly. I've learnt to shut my eyes and ears and carry on with my double-fraud whore-job every day. With no modesty left to guard, I'm free like the wind. Yayyyy.

At this juncture, a passage from Julius Caeser comes to mind; one that gives words to my battle- the battle between the person I once was and the third grade being I have now transformed into.

[BRUTUS]
Be not deceiv'd: if I have veil'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am
Of late with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself,
which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours;
But let not therfore my good friends be griev'd-
Nor construe any further my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shows of love to other men.


But let not therfore my good friends be griev'd.
For I am the bitch that will always find my way back to my master. I will continue to wag my tail at my master's sight and and salivate at the sight of a juicy bone my master will throw at me. I will do my bit and accept payment in the form of words, smiles and promises. I am after all, an ugly little liar.

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She wasn't a slut. She wasn't a rape victim. She just lived in a world of promises constructed by liars. She was a trust victim.