Newerways

Kshitiz had just won the documentary-making competition on Life in Mayoor School. We were watching this for the nth time on the laptop. It was sheer fun watching it again and again. Kshitiz clicked on the project folder and opened up the list of projects he had made for the cultural week and annual functions in school over the years. They varied from short stories to informational projects to movie trailers and documentaries. Watching this all reversed the time clock for me. Every project had some story, enthusiasm, excitement, excellence, our fights, above all, togetherness. We always had our ups and downs doing such things. I could hardly do what my children could do on the computer. I was their constant companion with suggestions on how what they were doing was shaping up and what would make a difference. Sometimes my suggestions were considered and at other rubbished. We all worked very hard in our spheres to do our best, they on the technical side and me on the emotional to encour

My school was a fantastic place to be in. It was one place that opened the gates for exposure for me. It gave us the memories we would cherish forever. In junior classes whenever my sons would prepare for debates, speeches, recitations, elocution, extempore, stage performances I would imagine my class fellows speaking their mind over the podium. Though I was never directly involved in these activities I remembered my teachers’ giving practices. Their emphasis on full stops, commas, sarcasm, humours, and an array of emotions was really commendable. The voice modulation, ascent and descent in tone, the monotone was all I imagined very explicitly and vividly. Those were not the days of internet but reading and experience were the guiding fronts. Assimilation of these inputs I realized, years later had become my strength. I may not have mastered the talent but loved to repeat the same with my children. I was particularly impressed when my son organized a talk show on “social networking