A bunch of berry fruits

After a long hour of stroll from the school the girl hurried to walk when she turned to the road that led her home. She was very much excited to see whether the berry fruits in her garden have ripened or not? Since the day its flower changed into the fruit, she was guarding it to see all its changes. She really enjoyed its color transformation from green to red. She did not leave any option to keep the plant healthy and green. Every morning she visited the plant to make it sure that the fruits are safe and keeping good. She herself used to water the plant in the morning and in the evening. She made her mother to add manure for the plant to keep its fruit healthier and colorful.

She watched each single change that appeared in the fruit. She cherished the day that will make the berry fruit dark in color. She did not understand the reason for disinterest of her friends when she told them about her dearest berry fruit, but her class teacher seemed to be excited whenever she mentioned about her own berry fruit. She loved her teacher for this reason. She felt that teacher is the most beautiful and intelligent woman in the world. It was the teacher who told her about the chemical changes that happen during the color change of berry fruit. In fact, she did not understand the term pigment and the name antho cyanin appeared like the name of a medicine. Yet she took heed of it because she loved the teacher very much.

Today, it is the third day of her waiting to get the berry fruit darkened. While reaching home she saw her beautiful berry fruit smiling at her. Adding her happiness, it started getting darker. She wanted to taste one piece from it. Though it was really difficult to resist her, she decided to obey her mother who asked her to wait for one more day. Before leaving to bed she visited the fruit once again and promised herself that she will give a share of it to the most beautiful and intelligent woman in this world, her teacher. In the morning, her mother didn’t seem to be happy on her wish to give the fruit to her teacher, yet she packed a few of them to entertain the desire of her daughter.

The girl kept that packet safely in her bag as if it is her own heart. On her way to school she was eating berry fruits given to her for eating during snack time. The thought about her don’t having anything to eat during snack time did not withstand her eating berry fruits on the way. Before reaching school she finished all the fruits in her box. She wanted more, but she did not even touch the packet that is kept for her teacher. During snack time she had nothing to eat. She thought of eating from teacher’s packet, yet she kept abstinence for the most beautiful and intelligent woman in the world.  The flavor that came out of the packet tempted her to savor the taste of fruits. Yet she did not spoil her decision to give the packet to her teacher.

She waited eagerly for the next period after the snack time as the most beautiful and intelligent woman in the world will come to her class in that period. Even after minutes of ringing the bell, the teacher did not turn up. While tension was mounting both in her mind and in the class another teacher appeared at the entrance. Her class teacher is on leave today. She was disappointed. Yet she did not open the packet. She kept it inside the bag safer than her own lunch. While eating her lunch, temptation invited her once again to eat those fruits. Yet she didn’t even open the packet. Reaching home, her mother asked her to open the packet, but she refused her wish and kept it for the next day.

It was really difficult for her to pass the time till the next morning. She even could not sleep well. During sleep she dreamt of the moments wherein she will hand over those tasty berry fruits with a wonderful aroma. She had a great self esteem for being the one and only owner of this fruit. She counted her as one of the great personalities who decided to give their most loved things to others. Next morning, the first thing she did while reaching the school was visiting the staff room. Her heart overwhelmed when she saw her teacher there. She gave the packet to her the and there. While talking with other teachers, her teacher didn’t show that much of interest in her packet.

All her dreams about those great moments went in vain. While returning from the staff room, she consoled herself saying that teacher must be busy in her discussions. She will appreciate it once she is free. She waited for her class teacher’s period. In the first period she came and took the attendance and left the class. There was nothing special on teacher’s face for her. She again consoled her saying that she must not have opened the packet as she is busy. She told herself that teacher will open it during lunch and will show her response in her next period which is just after the lunch hour. During lunch, her mind was full of excitement to see the impact of her berry packet on her teacher. She finished the lunch very fast and hurried to wash the lunch box. On the way, she saw a packet similar to her berry fruits in the waste box just in front of the staff room. She returned to see whether her eyes are right. But she couldn't see it well as her sight was fleeted with the layer of tears that seeped out from her eyes. 


I miss you dear friend

Staying away from my native, here in the heart of this desert I do miss the natural boasts of my land; Retention about my childhood memories are not stronger than the aspiration for a dearer future. Future is thus a choice and what makes me choose to live in a land that is far away is the comfort of the aromas and cuisines of Kerala right here in Doha. But I badly miss one thing that I was very much used in country. The rains……I cherish the days I sang the rhyme rain, rain go away with the effect of its whole meaning, here children sing that rhyme but they are not able to understand why a child sings that song as  rain never hinders a child’s play here. Even after being a desert, rain is not totally unknown to Doha as at times it shows its face here also. But, it will never be a culture or a part of life as we do experience it in Kerala. Here, occurrence of a rainbow will be the rarest of all the natural phenomena like a solar or lunar eclipse, whereas in India it is a very common phenomenon like rain.

It will be great surprises for a person from Doha to watch a Malayalam movie where Rains are often play a vital role. The people here will never understand the nostalgia of music and cold offered by rains in Kerala. They will never realize rains as the very first friend of every school going kid in Kerala. A normal Keralite will never be able to define rain as just the water falling in separate drops. For us it is the memory of a lot of past events and melancholy. From the very first drop that gently touches the hair or cheek to the streams that originate from the head to reach the toe made each of us fell in love with rains. We cannot forget and avoid the cold and sneezing gifted by the rains in the initial days of every academic year. We can never even think of forgetting the moments of joy and excitements offered by rains. You never can hear the life story of an Indian without rains taking a vital role in his or her personal life. Whether it is happiness or sorrow, rain is there to be with us.

In the most readable instance of my very first childhood memory, I was subjected to punishment for playing in rains. Since those days, I loved to watch the knockout of rains and cherished its music closer to my heart. I still do remember the sonorous sound of thunder and frightening appearance of lightning that threatened me even in sleeping hours. I don’t remember who made the poor little me afraid of those close friends of rains. Whoever it is they could not be successful for long as I never could resist myself from keeping company with rains. We shared our lives in between the big trees, small plants, near the canals, along the green fields and even in school. The light green stains of water in the text books, the small intervals in class hours eclipsed by the music and shallow dimness brought by the rain, the wet uniforms, the long lines of black umbrellas…the sights of rains are uncountable during my childhood. I can’t even think of counting the rains that made my childhood and teenage eventful and wet.

Rain escorted me through several moments where I was supposed to be alone. The rain water washed all the pain backed by teacher’s stick for not doing the homework. It helped to hide all the tears that went out of my eyes among the people who lacked compassion. The rain provided background for my separation from many good friends as every new school year took away many of them to faraway places. The sweet and sour taste of the mangoes that get separated from the tree during heavy rains and the fishes that come out of ponds and canals with the overflowing rain water filled my childhood with a lot of excitements. Though college was a totally new experience, rain helped me to maintain my real persona in that new and much bigger world. Every mornings and evenings of the June were blessed to have a long line of umbrellas like a black river that originated from my school through the road.

At college, I realized myself losing that little girl in green skirt who wanted to throw the umbrella and tried to save each drop of water within my little hands. I was not sad at that time as even the naughtiest of my friends also became like that and pretended as if they are the gentlest person on earth. In fact, my heart desired to go out of this umbrella and enjoy the ravishing beauty of that great persona of rain. Yet, I didn’t as I was accustomed to pretension. I found it difficult to save my books from the attack of wind that brings a large crowd of water drops. I realized how it is difficult to limit the entire world to the diminished place beneath that small umbrella. All these limitations are because of me growing as a woman from that poor little baby who cherished rains. As someone said, maturity is all about losing innocence. I really would like to go back to those times, where I was not bound by any of these norms….where I had freedom to enjoy the nature and its compassion. Looking at rains, I always tried to forget the annoyance I had to face from my own people from whom I expected a lot. I could succeed in those efforts and here I am missing the character with whom I find solace while I am in tears.


“ What's in a name? "

“What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Confused? No!!! I have no plans to plagiarize from one of the most illustrious poems from Shakespeare, the one and only real gem of the Stratford-upon-Avon? As always, Shakespeare is very much true….even if we call rose by some other name; it will give the same aroma as rose. There losses the relevance of names….but I wonder how it will be in a world where no one has the name. It will be perfect confusion. In a recent advertisement played by Abhishek Bachchan, I saw a system where people are known not with their names, but with numbers. Sounds awesome, right? A world where human beings do not have names of their own that is exactly like a prison. A nameless world is not impossibility, but we always do associate our names with our existence, our personality. It is a symbol of our own identity like a business name is associated with a company logo. There was times where names carried great meanings…like Elroi, the God who sees me. Hagar named her God as Elroi, when she realized that her God sees her even though she does not see him. We can see similar traditions of naming and christening in the biblical scenario. Like, Simon was rechristened as Peter and Saul was rechristened as Paul. The current generation also follows similar traditions.

Some names carry great meanings on the other hand some are given just to identify that particular person. Like my name Jisha is a Spanish word that means "very beautiful and intelligent”, but if you ask the meaning of my name to my parents they may make a strange face.  The name I was given during birth was Suja. Though, Jisha is my official name, I did not hear that name often till recent times. Even now, many of my relatives, cousins and close friends do not even remember my official name as they do love calling me by my pet name.  In all my sweet memories, I was called as Suja mol, Suji, Vidhu or even Vikki, my nickname. My ears and brain started understanding the name Jisha as my own when I left school to join college. There, teachers called me by my official name, but my friends used to call me by names like Jish, Jis and Jee. This different articulation of my name on the ground of intimacy made the name Jisha so alien to me. My real name that flags my identity misses the sense of warmth and affection I always looked for. My mind always tend to keep all those who call me by my official name out of my comfort zone, unfortunately the list includes many of my routine contacts. Knowingly or unknowingly names are associated with identity of people. The feeling we tend to rise while hearing the name Hitler will never be the same while we hear the name Mother Theresa. So, names carry the character and personality of persons associated with it.

As in the case of every other system, the naming system also does have regional differences. The region, language and culture play great role in naming the individuals of respective regions. While analyzing the names from different regions, I could notice one thing and it led me to frame a hypothesis. The hypothesis was that the first person that formed or developed the norms of culture and society was a man. That is why children and women are known by the names of their fathers and husbands. This is the reason why Mr.Clinton didn’t have to change his name as Mr.Hillary when Ms.Hillary changed her name as Mrs.Clinton. All their kids irrespective of sex are named under their father’s decent. As stated earlier, the naming system has regional differences, but I could see no difference in this male domination criterion in all these systems. Now I do remember about an article that explains the life of a South American tribe where women are dominated in the society. They are worshipped as divine leaders as they take pain to give birth. As I don’t remember the name of that tribe, I am not able to get the naming details of that tribe online. Hopefully they might form an exception. However, names carry meanings and it explains our identity as the son/daughter/wife of a particular person. This system gives a meaning to the naming system like there is a meaning to every individual name. Meaningful or not some people change their name when they grew up whereas some other people prefer to preserve it as their family inheritance. The change of name is often associated with people who find mismatch in their personality and name.


Jisha Jagadeesh

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It's Me The Miracle by Jisha Jagadeesh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License