The School Journal #3 – An Amalgamation of A Thousand Emotions.

. . . Cntd of #2

The Boring Intro:

I don’t think there is an immediate need to write about everything that’s happening here just because I name this a journal. Its been a while I updated anything about The School thing.

I’m the past few days, I’ve really been very very obsessed with the ideas of “the place where we are loved,” and “perfection – imperfection.” It’s like, I don’t know. I can’t explain or express what’s happening inside this shaven head. I just simply don’t know. Ideas are piling up one over the other. May be not ideas, these are something else I don’t want to name. When I name it, it is more like “labelling” it than naming it. I don’t want to label the emotions or feelings I’m carrying. They are unique, they are mine. May be many others feel the same, but no, these particular emotion is in me and I don’t want to label it.

God is getting far. God is all I really want. My God. I generally am obsessed with Shiva and Krishna, but since a few months Vishnu is taking over. Shiva is Shiva, don’t talk of it. I AM Shiva. Being Shiva I am obsessed with Vishnu that’s it. Hm. I used to sit with them. Talk with them. Sing for them. Listen to their praises and get my eyes wet. I’m not giving them time. Or, they aren’t giving me the fortune to do all that. Why blame them? It is on me. I know that. Hm. Even I am not chanting Her properly. Ah, I feel sorry for myself and chaotic thinking what kind of a mess I am in and what kind of a doom is awaiting.

No, let’s not talk of Gods. It will take a 200 pages book to write about how I feel of them. Let’s talk about, ah, “I don’t know what to talk,” thing. Everytime I start the journal, I am writing this because, I want to know how my head is working at a particular time. I want to make sure I wouldn’t become insane instantly, but gradually. I want to understand how this insanity is creeping through me. I’d love to see the change coming!

I’d like to mention a name: Roja. She is really nice. Fantastic in a few ways. Haha. May be I shouldn’t write anything about her here; she might read! Haha.

{This journal, this particular journal is taking a heck long time to write. I’m writing this since seven days and I’m still writing it. Many things are changing and many new things are happening in this while. Since the time I mentioned Roja, many things have happened, so the Roja I mentioned first is not the same when I’m mentioning her now.}

A Few From The Thousand Things:

This class is as good as healing a few little things in me. I can find something in the class which I might be craving for outside. I don’t know what that is; I can’t label it as love or attention or acceptance. No. It is one of the reasons I do not like language. Emotions are a hundred times complex than the names which language has given them. I try to express my emotions to someone, they’d simply label it as something they know. If their vocabulary is large, they’ll come up with something really impressive; a word which has a fancy meaning, but nah, not my emotion. Sometimes the labels come near my emotions, but they never hit the bull’s eye. No. Never in a hundred years.

I can’t say what I’m finding in the class. Not in my second class, no, I wouldn’t talk about my second class, it is more of a burden which I should carry for an hour everyday, but I’m talking about my class; mine in every sense you can recall, my class has something for me; specially reserved for me. That one thing, which I can’t and don’t want to explain is the thing which feels healing.

The Song That Filled My Heart:

I was waiting for one such opportunity where I can communicate with a student of the class individually. I got it finally in the name of The Welcome Event of the school. The school management wanted me to make a song and I requested them to lend me a few students who can sing. I got Dohya from our class. Such a sweet girl, I never thought she’ll become as close as my own sister. Let’s not talk of a single person here, nah, that might not lead to good result. The song turned out to be awesome. The music was awesome. Johnson helped with his keyboard. I played guitar and composed the tune along with the lyric. Dohya along with another girl and it, but they’d never know how entertained I was. How happy, excited, satisfied and, ah, alive I felt. How’d they know? They are kids. I’m a kid too, I agree, but they are much little. I didn’t know if I love them because I love the song or I love the song because I love them. But by the end of everything, the school loved our song and us.

I hope I will carry that with me for a long time.

A Few Other:

The class was set. I was also given the duty of English Language at Pre Primary section. I was segregating my work between my Higher English section and Pre Primary as morning and evening sections respectively. I love the pre primary too. All the little children, some too sharp, some too slow, some are like retarded kids we watch in movies who would become class first at the end. I love a particular guy, a U.K.G student, who wouldn’t go inside the class how hard everyone try. He’d just sit out. He is funny, he is stupid and he is little love.

Along with him, I found another little little love in the first class. Her name is Pranavi. The best part of this little girl is, she knows that she is best in the class and she lets everyone know that. She got a really huge voice. She just answers every question without letting anyone think. So hyperactive, teachers ask her to be silent and give chance to others. But, if she is a girl who listens everything that’s told, why would she become my love? She wouldn’t!

The Class:

Before going to the notes, may be I should talk about the CT I conducted. I personally loved it. While they were writing, I kept on disturbing them with my stupid jokes and all. I sang songs, whistled, targeted a few and made fun of them. It was a happy section. At last when I was disturbing a girl (encouraging her to write Bahubali story as an answer) Rishita asked me not to disturb the class, but with a beautiful, polite smile. I retreated after that, but not wholly. Even before that, Srija was asking me not to whistle. Haha. Those girls are awesome. They know real manners: better than me! (I hope no one from the school reads this!)

Nothing to note about specifically. The place changing in the class is a bit chaotic. It hurt a few. But then, it brought a few closer to me. The class is looking more clear to me. More distinct. More understandable. No, not because the places are shifted, no, even I didn’t like a few changes; my students sitting somewhere they don’t like, that’s hurting. But as I’m spending time with them day after day, I’m able to understand them more clearly. I’m able to get connected with them in a subtle and emotional manner.

A day ago, I mean, yesterday, I had a very deep longing to be with someone I love. I just couldn’t control it. The failure in the attempt drove me mad. I was half mad already. Then is when I did it: I asked Teja Ma’am (the administration head) and took three classes for my classes. I taught them Dhumakethu’s The Letter for two classes, which really is a totally emotional story and in the third class, on their request, I told them Romeo and Juliet, which everyone in the class thoroughly thoroughly enjoyed. That’s heaven again. It is like. . . ah, feeling alive again. But three classes in a row exhausted me inspite of those inspiring and beautiful stories. I went home, I slept like I was dead.

The Tears:

With all the similes, shouts, laughs, games and special greetings and Thank You’s, I saw tears may be for the first time in the class. I saw a couple of girls and a boy getting emotional when I told them the story of Romeo and Juliet. I never thought they’d have such emotional potential, but they had. They could feel the emotions of Juliet and Romeo. Apart from that, a girl openly cried when I was explaining Dhumakethu’s The Letter. She just couldn’t take the inhumanity of leaving our elder parents at a side. For these things I didn’t care much. I will tell them more and more stories all the year and I’ll try very sincerely to make them emotional. I want to stretch their emotional intelligence, that’s all. But these tears; the tears of this girl, they moved me. She waited till everyone gets out of the class when the school is done and a friend waited with her. Then she talked to me how bad she feels when all the teachers say that their class is bad just because of a few idiots in the class. I tried to console her. I have her a bit confidence and good hope that we all together will change that opinion on the class in the school. I want to see that class as the best class in the school. I shall genuinely work for it. That’s what I promised her. I wanted to write her name, so that I can feel the vibes when I read this, may be a ten years later, but I promised her that I wouldn’t mention “her” crying anywhere. So, I will not.

I just hope we will all help eachother and get more better. We all together are the best.

. . . Cntd #4

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