Tag Archives: biographies

My Namesis

Maths was one subject which I hated. But determination, and hard work paid off, and I ended up getting higher marks in Senior Classes. No subject other than Maths gets you full marks when the answers are correct.

There was another subject which I hated more than Maths was Urdu. You couldn’t ditch it, cause it was compulsory. I never got marks in the ninety range in Urdu. The highest I ever got in it were sixty eight. It was a dismal score. It pulled down my over all report card at the end of the year. There I would be standing first in class, but a look at Urdu marks made me want to hide my face, when I presented my report card for father to sign.

Another thing I hated about it was memorizing hundreds of poets’ biographies. There were three centuries of Urdu poets we students had to remember. We had to paraphrase the stanzas that was a real headache. The hidden depth we had to delve into was sheer torture. I would often think, if no Urdu poets had existed, my life would have been easy.

When I got to college, the first thing I did was to get Easy Urdu (an option I got). Finally I could breathe a sigh of relief.


Land of Confusion

Which subject in school did you find impossible to master? Did math give you hives? Did English make you scream? Do tell!

What Happens to Me

Daily Prompt: The Great Divide
When reading for fun, do you usually choose fiction or non fiction? Do you have an idea why you prefer one over the other?

Crying, sitting huddled up — that’s me.
Did anyone said anything to me?
Has any misfortune befallen me?
Has there been any bad news?

No, no, no.

So why am I crying?

You won’t laugh? Promise?

Okay, I am reading this book, and this is what happened ……..

There was a time when I could read: fiction, non fiction, biographies, thrillers, murder mysteries, historical books, anything on which I could lay my hands.

My heart has gone frail over the years. I only read light fiction now, very occasionally non fiction; someone has read, and recommended.

When I am reading fiction, anything bad happens, I console myself, “these are just words. Nothing happened, it’s imagination.”

Reading non-fiction I cry when something untoward happens. I feel sad, and a heaviness settles around my heart. I can’t shake the sadness away.

That’s what happens to me.


Life of Sheen

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