My Story

 Today my friend asked me to tell me the first book I read. The first thing is always special to us. I read my first book when I was in 10th grade. I developed that habit very lately.  I mainly thank Gautham and Diljith. These two are responsible for giving me the spark to read a book. These 2 are bookworms. During 10th grade, I used to sit with them. Gautham was the all-rounder of the school and Diljith was the topper. Whenever I come to class, these two will be reading books. Gautham will be reading Rick Riordan’s, Percy Jackson. Once I tried to read that book, I didn’t understand anything. Diljith every day different books. I used to wonder how this guy read books so fast. Whenever I try to read books, I feel sleepy or bored. I tried many times but never got the spark. One day after reading a book, Gautham called me to the library. Librarian and Gautham were great friends. They started having a conversation. Suddenly my eyes fell on the new arrivals section. I got attracted...

 Samson sir who taught me Malayalam during my school days narrated one of his friend's experiences. His friends went to Bihar as part of training. There he went to a local barbershop. After having a normal haircut, he asked the barber how much. The barber said 5 rupees. He was shocked to hear that. Normally in our place, the price for a normal haircut will be 80 to 100 rupees. He gave him 50 rupees and said to keep it. The barber was very happy as if Ambani has appeared in front of him. There was always been an influx flow of Migrant workers to South India. These people mainly work in the construction sector. Here they get about 500-1000 Rupees per day. Back in their own state, these people are not getting enough money to survive. They see more employment opportunities in South India. Coming to that incident, happened in 2016. Many places in India are still left behind. They have never seen development. As a result, many people in Indian society live in poverty. (All thanks to dirt...

 When I was in 12th grade, my class teacher, Mrs. Nisha Thomas, was absent for three days in October. No one knew the reason for her absence, and during that time, my class became noisy and disruptive. Despite several teachers from nearby classes coming in to warn us, the noise continued. Word of this reached our class teacher, and she was deeply upset. She informed us that her husband had been unwell, and she had taken leave to care for him. I saw tears in her eyes as she shared this with us. Despite her emotional state, some students were inattentive and continued with their own activities. Hurt and insulted by this lack of respect, she left the classroom abruptly. Our class leaders went to the staff room to console her, but I could feel a heaviness in my heart, knowing that the situation was far from resolved. During the fourth period, Father Geevarghese entered our classroom and announced that he wanted to check our bags. He noticed one of the students trying to hide something,...

When I was in 11th grade, there was a guy in my tuition class who constantly mocked me because I struggled with physics and mathematics—subjects that were not my strong suit. He frequently called me an idiot and useless, which eventually led me to quit the tuition class. I didn’t want to endure criticism from teachers and others any longer. A year later, I participated in a quiz competition and was selected to represent my school. Since the quiz was organized by an engineering college, I expected the questions to be related to science. To my surprise, the topics were current affairs, history, politics, and other subjects in which I excelled. I noticed the same guy who had mocked me was also participating, representing his school. Although we didn’t speak, I could sense his presence. In the competition, my team performed exceptionally well, reaching the finals, while his school was disqualified in the first round. My school ended up as the runner-up, and I was elated. Not only was this ...

 Since today was a holiday, I decided to pay a visit to Semmozhi Poonga. It’s a botanical garden. After walking around the place I sat on a bench. I observed a girl and a father. I think the girl is about 7 years old. There was a leech on the floor. That man was about to stamp on it. The little girl pushed her father and said, ‘Appa don’t kill it, it is nature.’ ‘It will bite you, said the father. And the girl's reply stunned me. She said ‘Appa, if I pinch you, you will get hurt. Likewise, it will also get hurt.’ The girl took the leech on a leaf and placed it in a safe place. I was blown away. The girl is hardly 7 years old and her maturity level is amazing. Now I am very hopeful that the upcoming generation will make this world better. Education matters a lot. If we inculcate value-oriented education in kids, they will make this place a better place to live in. This little girl is a big example for us.  

 Many of them said the place called ‘Hidden Lake’ is a really nice place to visit. They gave me positive feedback, so my desire to visit the place doubled. Today evening, along with my best friend Ajith we went there with the help of Google Maps. Actually, the place was full of garbage and dirt. We got confused that whether we are moving the right way or not. We asked some people about the way, and they all pointed to the way full of garbage. We walked through that way. We walked a lot. Ajith got fed up. He said he is returning back. I tried to stop him but he didn’t listen to me. I said I am not returning without seeing the ‘Hidden Lake.’ He agreed to come with me. When we walked a little more, we got the beautiful scenery of the lake and the sun setting. It was damn amazing. The photographer in Ajith woke up and started to capture the moment. Well, we walked through the way full of garbage and shit and that way led to a place of wonder. Similarly, if we look at our life, we will ...

    When I was studying in 7 th  STD, my class teacher asked us to write any story or poem for the school magazine. Also said everyone should write it by their own. I was confused. I don’t know what to write. Rest of them were writing something. Nothing new came in my mind. I remembered a poem taught by my mother when I was very small. I decided to write that. I knew it was a small kid’s poem, but I decided to move on. Some of my classmates who saw this poem started to laugh. They started to make fun of me. I felt little embarrassed. I submitted the poem. I had a feeling that what others including teachers will think about me. When we received the school magazine I was shocked to see my poem in it. Others were also surprised. It was very hard for me to believe it. From my class, only my article got published in the school magazine. Then teacher told us that I wrote it by my own. She also said some of them wrote Shelley’s and William Wordsworth's poem. It was a proud momen...