Monday, August 18, 2014

Plantation Made Easy

( our school decided that they needed Guinea pigs for their experiments. Therefore, quite a few unlucky students, including me, had to go on a 14 km long trek, on the worst possible day. Monsoons, rain in the mornings, sun in the afternoons. That is how our day was. Read on to know more. )
Till now, my ideas about gardening had been limited to stepping into a garden with a khurpi and a sapling/seed and simply digging a hole, putting the plant/seed in it, filling up the pit and patting the moist soil down. I am afraid that I had to revise my concepts about planting a tree. To my amazement, it also includes a lot of stuff, which, this being the introduction of a speech, I shall explain in a moment.
Ever felt the wonderful, humid day in the middle of the monsoons when the sun beats down on your head, and thought 'ah! This is life! The best thing in this lovely weather would be a boisterous walk on a road through hot, humid woods, with no water, and no breeze.' Well, rest assured that I have not. My poor mind has different ideas of spending the perfect, humid, monsoon day. You'd think me sloppy, but I prefer the convenience of an A. C. over the conveniences offered by nature. However, I not being the decider of the fateful day that saw us doing the above mentioned(the walk, not the A.C.), I believe it wise to limit the views I have. Anyways, on 11/08/2014 many of us went to undo a thing that every human is responsible for. We became the knights that carried a shiny sword called afforestation that would slay the dragon popularly known as deforestation. What was missing, of course, was the fearless horse on which we knights usually ride.  A compromise had to be taken. Feet.
The formation our battalion took was one I would shy to tell an army official. We were in a non-strategic, highly exposed line. If someone took into their head that they had to shoot down the line, we'd be dead twice over with a mini machine gun. Fortunately, no one had a mind driven by insanity, so we were safe. However, unlike marching troops, our steps were mismatched. Therefore, what was first a uniform line turned into clusters of students with matching paces.
I shall like to ask you whether you can picture vultures preying on a corpse. They fight for food. The same can be said for thirsty students. They can do almost anything for water. We must have lowered the water table immensely, if the amount of bottles filled was an indicator. I learned a lesson there- thirst can drive you nuts, not to mention make a journey doubly fatiguing and long. However, the condition of the students is trivial, for they go on a noble cause. Nothing is too much when fame envelops it. To make our tedious journey more loathsome, we had a cameraman recording us. Trust me, the scowls of sweaty children are NOT the thing you'd like to publicize.
However, I, Avani Solanki, am here to speak a few words on the noble deed of planting trees,  I shall save you the gory details, that included moans, strange noises, oaths, swears and what not. The gardening itself included no khurpi, no pit digging, and too little of the process of planting. I believed I was meant to keep my hands clean, for I had to do nothing except hand the plant over to an Aunty who was there to 'assist' us.
But, I have not yet enlisted the method that I now know is most suitable for gardening. As you have probably not realized that I have already hinted on the modern way for efficient gardening skills, I shall now list them step-wise:
1. Get out of school in a line. Do not stay in that formation if inconvenient.
2. Walk till your legs hurt and then walk a kilometer more( that would be around 3-4 kilometers).
3. Make sure that the day you choose to do so is humid and hot.
4. Sit on the burning road when you have reached your destination and learn how the forest officials plant trees while you concentrate on the devil's fire pit in which you seem to have fallen.
5. Choose a sapling. Now descend a steep slope and find a gardener and a pit.
6. Tear off the plastic in which the plant is kept. It is of no concern as to how you dispose the plastic off.( why do I suddenly remember that areas such as we visited are plastic free hotspots? )
7. Put the plant in a pit (and remark on my alliteration).
8. Let the gardener do everything else.
9. Marvel at how you have succeeded in saving the environment with little effort.
I believe what I started must now end, and with a hope that the plant I planted lives, I must call my hopefully enlightening speech to an end.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

What if?

Imagine if you were given a choice,
To read the story of your life.
Every detail, every inevitable circumstance,
With the condition that you can't change your fate.
Would you read it, and know how life will be for you,
Would you face the monotony?
Imagine if you knew the day you'll die,
And couldn't change it, too.
Would you rather enact your life,
The way written on your chapters,
Or would you let fate decide,
And follow blindly onwards.
Would you let each moment speak for itself,
Or would you live in a predicted future?
Would you rather live in the fear of predicted death,
Or would you be glad for another day to live?

The walk

She began her life with a cry,
She had a long way to go.
There was a path waiting to be threaded on,
That bore her name.
She started off, toddling on it,
Before she was 18 months old.
She found it special, for it had its thrill,
And an unknown destination.
The lovely child, that treaded on her little feet,
Was walking on the path of life, my dear.
There was no end, just a series of beginnings.
Sometimes she went slow, in dread or joy,
Either she savored the moment,
Or let it pass by.
Sometimes she had to run,
Sometimes they were narrow escapes,
Sometimes she faltered,
Sometimes she lost her way.
But all the time, she walked on time,
She walked through her life.
Youth turned to senility,
And her steps grew infirm.
And though she knew not where she headed,
She had to walk along.
Maybe there was an end, a destination,
But her journey ended before,
And somewhere in the middle,
She rested forever more.
It was before her final step,
It was before her final breath,
That she was given the satisfaction of knowing,
That the path itself was her goal,
That the walk she savored, the walk she dreaded,
Was what was meant for her.
She realized, that this was special, unique,
The path that bore her name.
This path that had been crossed by many more,
Was her very own, never to be treaded on again.

Mathematical conversation

A cyclic quadrilateral and I,
Fell in deep conversation, my, my!
I think the quadrilateral had
An ego, which totally drove her mad.
She was too fuzzy over everything,
Shan't talk till she doesn't hear me sing.
Of course, I obliged, though with a punch,
And the prelude to the song was a delightful crunch.
She was fortunately 2 dimensional,
So no bumps or soreness made it consequential.
Anyways, she declared later that she can't live without
( She was adamant on being clear and loud )
Two opposite angles of hers,
Forming linear pairs.
And when I just happened to mention parallelogram, God protect me,
She nearly bit my silly head off me!
No, she shan't bear no quadrilaterals of that name,
And for shame,
For dear rectangle carried the same surname,
And as he was cyclic, she basked in his fame.
With that, I left, rather abruptly,
For I never did anything subtly,
And she was still mumbling about dear rectangle,
When I squeezed out of the tangle,
Of a most idiotic conversation
( A truly dreadful situation)
Between me and a cyclic quadrilateral madam,
Half of whose meanings I just couldn't fathom.