MY ATHLETIC SIDE!

I'm a good athlete according to me and my physical education teacher. Due to that my teacher short-listed me for the under seventeen inter-school category. Every athlete who is short-listed(all the athletes are still short-listed)has to undergo a tiring, but useful training. It takes place everyday after school. The training requires a lot of time to get adapted to and therefore requires utmost attention and hard work. Well, for me, it is 'so far, so good'.

It actually started with a normal physical education class where we were graded for our running skills. I got good grades despite being terribly sick that day. I had a terrible head-ache that I hadn't felt in the morning, before going to school. Even after sensing it, I thought I would stay put in class as I thought that my head-ache would fade away gradually. The school clinic could be used for better things. I refrained from telling any of my friends or teachers about the ache. Even though my head-ache was getting severe, I gathered up courage to follow my friends to the field and get my grading done, at the earliest. I ran well, even though it was only a sixty metre race. The teacher praised me and some other boys in class. He was more than happy to have so many choices in his athletic club. Little did he know that all the boys apart from me had to be present in other coaching activities, that would therefore reduce his team members.

That day, I came home and puked, I seriously don't know why, as I had no stomach-ache. No one was at home, so I checked my temperature by myself and found out that I had fever. I contacted my dad, who contacted my mom, who took me to the doctor, despite my refusal. In the end it turned out to be only a minor fever. So much for going to the doctor.

The year I joined ninth grade, my ex-physical education teacher came to tell us about the coaching. He told me to take it very seriously. I knew I had to take it seriously, but just for the sake of reminding, you know how the human mind functions, full of thoughts and memory. It is so complicated. Besides,

'How will there be mystery?

How will there be science?

If everything said and done in history,

Is known to mankind!

                                                                                -adapted from a poem by K
                                                      himself 

The first day of the coaching, I missed due to my prefect interview, which turned out to be a flop. My so called House Master fired me with questions I failed to answer quickly and properly. I wished I had been called instead of my friend earlier, who was asked questions, I was prepared to answer in a jiffy. My ex- P.E(physical education)teacher was annoyed, but he wasn't enraged. He excused me for the day. After all, he had to!

The next day however, I didn't fail to attend my coaching class. It took some time to start, as the coaching teachers waited for a while so that we could rest and conserve our energy. After it started though, there was no stopping. He made us jog around a football(soccer)field five times, so that we were warmed up. I was a beginner then and therefore, I struggled a bit. I've got used to it now, but now and then are two completely different stories. My shin ached the most, but yet I tried to ensue. The best part was that I had forgotten my sports shoes. I tried to drag away my thoughts, but alas, the warm up was all about concentrating. The pain came up to my thighs later. After the completion of the five rounds, we were asked to stride. It means that, we should run with sixty percent speed on one side of the field and walk on the other. After two rounds of striding, guess what!

"Please do not sit or drink water, form a semi-circle!", my ex-P.E teacher shouted, and we obeyed. He was planning to make us do some stretching and rotating exercises. He kept showing us the exercises, and also told us the number of times it had to be repeated. We did as we were told. The exercises were pretty easy to perform, but it was hard to focus with the leg-ache. Our arms were aching too, due to its continous movement. After the so called rotating exercises, in which we were supposed to rotate our legs and hands from here to there he asked to stride once more. This time only on one side of the field. After walking back, we were asked to do the stretching exercises. All the exercises were like dance movements. We were asked to stretch and touch our toes and so on.

It was a relief when he asked us to take a sip of water and move around, so that we don't get to complete rest mode and make our aches worse than it is. Some boys dis-obeyed and drank water as if they were seeing it for the first time. I had no problems, as I wasn't a great fan of water, whether thirsty or not.

Next he asked us to do some knee-driving exercises, first on the spot, and then by moving from one place to another. It would be hard to describe, but we had to lift one knee up stretch the other leg, and keep shifting the leg. It was more tiring as our chest could hardly suck in air because of the speed, and also our chest was involved in the exercise, as it kept contracting and relaxing during the exercise. We were breathing anaerobically then. This anaerobic respiration lasted for more than five minutes. It took lots of time to catch our breath.

He asked to repeat the exercise three to four times. After the tiring exercise, we were asked to come close to the school bus area entrance stairs. He made us do something called as step up(definitely not street dance). We were supposed to climb up and down one particular step with both our feet. That is one foot up and the other foot down and then both the feet up and the other foot down and so on. We were asked to do it at maximum pace. After repeating it once again, we were asked to do split jumps on the stairs itself. We repeated that twice. 

Then he asked us to do the abdominals(or the crunchs)twenty five times. Then the push-ups also the same number of times. After the procedure, we were asked to walk around the football field for three rounds and then wind up. During the long walk, the pain in our legs started becoming less and the pain in the thighs ceased to exist. This time I could do a bit of day dreaming and I kept thinking about the amount of homework I had to do after getting home. I was enraged to know that there were lots. As usual, I'm always unlucky.

Hasta la Vista,

K 

FIVE DAYS IN A FILTHY TRAIN!

I was in Kerala. 'God's own country' as they say it. The greenery was just beautiful. It was amazing. There were all kinds of trees and rare plants. The touch-me-not was amusing and delicate. Six years and seven months ago, I was just seven years old. I loved the beauty, but definitely hated the creepy crawlies which came along with it. Even grasshoppers used to frighten me. Bees were common, and I just hated them. I have never got stung by one, but their legs and wings were as scary as jumping from Burj Khalifa. They looked like professional killers.

It was the monsoon season in India. All states except Tamil Nadu were affected by these heavy rains. I had to travel(with parents of course)to Bombay. My father wanted to travel by a train and we followed his choice. We arrived at the station quite early. We waited for thirty minutes before the train arrived. It usually took only a day and a half by train to reach Bombay. I was glad that I didn't have to sit in a filthy train for more than a day. Well, of course, the scenery outside the windows of the train is beautiful, the inside was the big problem. The station especially was full of rats and lizards, my mother's worst enemies. The lizards were busy searching for flies to eat, which was there in abundance.

We entered the train casually. My father lifted all the bags to the seats we occupied. He wouldn't expect a woman or a seven year old boy to lift it for him. At last we arrived at our seats. My great uncle joined us for this journey too. The air-conditioning hadn't started yet as the train was yet to be joined to the engine. We were sweating terribly. After what seemed like an hour, the train finally started moving.

In the train there was nothing much to do, but read a book or stare out of a window. I did both. Of course, I didn't read Stephen King or Eoin Colfer then. I stuck to Enid Blyton's short stories. I liked one story about a brother and sister who had to take a bus home. There was an old lady who couldn't enter the bus as there was only one seat remaining. The brother decided to give up the bus for the old lady and go walking to his house. In the end his family doctor, found him walking and gave him a lift home. The sister was surprised to see the brother home early. After she understood what had happened she gave him a packet of chocolate, which she said was given by that old lady who was grateful to him. I enjoyed Blyton's stories. I also enjoyed sitting by the window and watching outside. The scenery was amazing.

Early morning the next day, we were at Goa, a state in the South. Due to the rain, the train stopped there for quite sometime. The tracks were filled with water. I was fast asleep, as I didn't believe in getting up early, until and unless there was school. In the morning we were still at Goa and train staff were roaming around with breakfast. I had good(not great)meal. I am a great fan of banana fries which is a traditional Keralite dish. That was one thing that I would never miss while I was in the South. I drank my cup of coffee and waited for the train to move. After sometime the station master or whatever you call him, came to us and announced that due to the floods, the train  would be going back to Kerala and coming by a separate route. Everyone was unhappy. Nobody wanted to stay in the filthy train for more than a day. My father was an exception. We definitely couldn't take a bath as the train had no proper shower room. We were stinking due to the dampness and the unhygienic maintenance of the train. The train went reverse in full speed and people could hardly stand on their feet. It stopped at no station in between and we were heading straight to Kerala.

I brushed my teeth with great difficulty because of the pace the train was moving in. I could barely stand and it was hard to turn on the tap and wash the brush and then wash your mouth. It was vexing. Finally I was able get back to my seat. I observed the scenery outside and knew that we were heading back to Kerala due to the greenery. I frowned. I was bored, so I went for a stroll, despite the speed of the train. I saw some frowns on the faces of the people in other seats. I came to one seat where there was a man, wearing a sumptous watch. He had a baby in his lap. He was playing with the baby. The baby's mother was sitting right beside him. She was playing with the baby too. The baby, I noticed was a girl. She was five-six months old. She was happily laughing at her father's and mother's funny faces. Looking at their faces, I couldn't help but chuckle. The father caught my sight. I began to leave, but he stopped me by greeting me. I greeted him in return.

My great uncle came searching for me. By the time I was happily talking to the baby's father and mother. My uncle greeted them and they did the same. Do not talk to strangers was a not a big rule in a train. Especially with a man who has a family. My uncle asked me to go get his watch and also summon my father while I was at it. The baby's father and my uncle were deep in conversation by the time I got there with my father. My father wasn't much of speaker, like me. He always waited for somebody else to start the conversation. The baby was fast a sleep in her mother's lap. I walked away and left the adults to their conversation.

I got back to my Enid Blyton book. After sometime it was time for lunch. My uncle and father were still busy in their conversation. My mother was busy laying out the plates. After sometime my father and great uncle arrived. After a quick meal I got back to my book. It only had about a hundred pages, but I was a slow reader then. After a good read I went to join the baby and her family. They greeted me with delight. The baby was awake. She was playing and chewing on her toys. Her mother kept stopping her from chewing her toys, but she, as all babies, was adamant. Her father kept asking me questions about my school. He also asked me how I found it in the Middle East. I replied that I found it to be pleasant.

By evening, the train had reached Kerala to change its engine. I sighed to see Kerala again. Not that it was unpleasant, it was just that the train journey was longer. I thought that, my friends would be enjoying their summer vacation, while I'm sitting in this damn train full of adults. The only two people who weren't adults were me and the baby. Of course I could play a bit with the baby, which I did, but apart from that I had no clue about what I was going to do. My book was nearing the end, and the scenery would be blinded due to the night. The evening was getting darker and darker and we were supposed to be in Bombay, if it weren't to be that stupid rain. One good advantage was that, I never had to drink milk. I don't hate milk, but I love coffee. I drank two cups of coffee that evening. The evening was warm in Kerala. It was humid, but it didn't seem like it was going to rain heavily. The evening passed into the void and then came night.

Dinner was nothing great. I gulped it down my throat and went to visit the only kid in the compartment apart from me. She was sucking her thumb. I kept making silly faces to make her laugh and she did it without any qualms. She finally got tired and her mother put her off to sleep. The lullaby she hummed to her kid, showed all her affection towards her girl. I went hopping from one place to another, back to my seat. I was forced to brush by my mother and I did it quickly. I slept peacefully till morning.

The third day of my train journey had just begun. I woke up after several calls from my parents and uncle. The train had slowed down and that was a bad sign. It meant it would reach Bombay more slowly. I brushed my teeth with great pace, but carefully. I ate a healthy breakfast. We were at Andhra Pradesh. Miles to go, before reaching Bombay. We had to cover Karnataka still. The day went by slowly. I spent my time reading, hopping around and having fun with the baby. I had known her name, but now I forgot. The day was not as memorable as the first one.

The fourth day, and we were above Krishna river which would mean that we were nearing Karnataka. After we reached Karnataka, the train increased its speed again. The Karnataka journey was short as we only had to cover a bit of it, before we reached Maharastra, where Bombay is located. By evening we were in Maharastra and we were sure, by morning we would reach Bombay.

Next day, we were stuck at a place called Daund. It took us a while before we were able to move. We got down at Daund station and got a nice hot tea. It was afternoon by the time we moved from Daund, and we headed to Pune. The train kept entering tunnels which were completely dark. I enjoyed the ride. By late evening, about eight'O clock, we reached Pune. The station master said that the train would go to its shed there and it would continue its journey towards Bombay the next day. No one, not even my father could stand one more day in the train, so we decided to get down at Pune and call my father's younger cousin brother to come and collect us by road.

In the end we said goodbye to the baby and her parents and waited in the station until my uncle came to collect us. I sat drinking Sprite and chewing gum. It was a long ride from Bombay to Pune, so it took some time for my uncle to arrive. In India the speed limit is a bit low, so it took even more time for my uncle to arrive. He arrived by twelve midnight with his driver friend. We sat in the car and drove to Bombay.

In the car there was some boring Hindi movie going on. I went to sleep immediately. By six in the morning, we reached Bombay, at last. I lazily woke up to breathe the Bombay air. It smelled bad. So did I. I went home and took a bath immediately. It was a lovely five days of unhygienic living. Now, wasn't it?

Hasta la Vista,
K

WHAT HAPPENED BEFORE AND AFTER THE FIRST FOUR DAYS OF NINTH GRADE!

I had passed eighth grade with flying colours(pleased to know). Examination the most tensing period of our lives had come to an end(I know there were still more to come, but still). Eighth grade had finally come to end and firstly I had no choice, but to bid goodbye to the senior middle school department and all the teachers who had taught me well! I had written a poem for two of my special teachers and of course they know who they are. In fact they are regular readers of my blog. Mrs.Laxmi Nandakumar and Mrs.Jessy Paulose, thank you again for helping me out and may both of you have a good life ahead. Farewell.

Secondly, I have to say farewell to one of my classmate named Vignesh, who has left school. We weren't close friends, but we were good friends. Those are all good memories. After the scary exams I was finally able to take breath. It felt good. It was like I was cramped in a room full of books, that too, school books. I would have found my school library which has no books at all(what I mean is that it has no good books)way better. After all, after the exams I was all alone in the afternoon, as parents were at work, and I had no siblings. I thought it would be great fun.

Either ways as my luck is mostly bad, the thought lasted for only few hours, as I was busted the very first day of my holiday for not cleaning my bookshelf at the earliest. Well, the first week was bad and boring. There was nothing to do, but hum music to oneself or to roam around aimlessly. There was nothing to watch on television, nothing to read in the bookshelf, and I was damn bored with the video games I had. Due to this boredom I couldn't blog at all that week. I was totally out of concentration.

In the end I took my tennis ball and started bouncing it around. According to my mother it was a fool thing to do(like she knew what was happening). The next week, however I was able to buy two new and interesting books which kept me glued to it. I wouldn't be mentioning the books, as it is popular and I wouldn't want my relatives to read what I read if at all they read this blog or if at all they haven't seen it.

That week went in reading books, and again I couldn't blog. The next week at last I could blog after quite sometime. I was proud that I could come up with something. I was also a bit unhappy as I lost flow in between due to phone calls from parents and all that.

Ninth grade was just around the corner. Books to be bought, uniforms to altered, what a stupid way to start the first week before school. Go down to the tailor, get the pants altered, go to the book store buy the books, and oh, mommy forgot, you have to buy milk, curd, vegetables, snacks........and that would be about it. Also I had to be sure to bring hundred dirhams change! It was a hell of a week I tell you. It was long week, because apart from going to the tailor and giving the pants that needed to be altered, I had to receive it as well. On the way you had to look at the Emarati kids, who as always, had attitude problems, and they of course had that 'thou shalt die' look on their faces. They maybe fierce looking, but trust me, they are just plain scooby-doos and shaggys from inside.

The day before the first day of ninth grade I had packed all my books and had gone for the movie 'The Hunger Games', which turned out to be boring in the end. The romantic way they ended it, was boring. I had gone with my cousin brother whom I have mentioned mostly in my post 'Two Hours and Forty Minutes', and also my cousin sister whom I have mentioned in my post 'Being the Only Child'. The elder one of course, not the trouble-maker. My sister seemed to enjoy the movie(girlzzzz!)and my brother like me hated the ending, but he also said it was better than the book which the author turned into a mega love story.

The next day school started as usual. I got up early in the morning and brushed my teeth as slow as I could. After my daily chores, I dressed my self in the new uniform (which had a horrible colour combination). I left home for the bus. The bus came, I entered. After a long journey we reached school. I entered my class, and greeted my friends. Joe was present as usual. Our time-tables were handed over and soon the periods began.

Hindi, my second language, almost left me crying. As a matter of fact it almost left me crying after two whole years(I'm not an emotional person, and I definitely don't care if Romeo gets Juliet or not). Too much it was, I looked at Joe with a sad expression and he looked at me in the same way. The other subjects were equally challenging. There is too much homework and I don't know how I'm blogging right now. I'd  be an idiot to even blink my eyes in class. A hell lot of work to do. With that I have my Mathematics tuition. Two whole hours and sometimes even more. The textbooks were heavy(arrrrgh! I can feel the pain). My back would have gone for a toss, if I would have had those textbooks on my back for more than fifteen minutes.

Some teachers started scaring us with the things that will happen during the board exam and all in the first day itself! Some teachers, luckily, decided to console us rather than scare us. Some did both. I knew in the back of mind that ninth grade is going to be like trying to kill Hulk in an instant. Well all did not go well or as expected, but what to do, life is hard. After all it is the twenty first century(sigh! Why?!). I'm okay with it as long as I have something called as free will!

Hasta la Vista,
K