MS.SHRUTHI C MOHAN, THE HEARTFELT TALKATHON

Among girls, there are those who talk, there are those who don't and then, the unique species of Talkathons. Once they start, they pause for the occasional breath and to giggle at the SMS. Before you could make your escape, they have caught you. You have no other choice but to meekly surrender and listen. I did. To Shruthi.
As cousins, we grew up together, and even went to the same school. Shruthi is younger to me by 3-4 years, but she makes up for it in intelligence. She, like many women in the family, joins the 'powerpuff girls league'.
I never expected that she would join engineering (and talk gibberish which all my engineering friends do). It feels proud when you see your loved one mature from a little girl to a young adult. It feels even better if they turn out smarter than you.
My knees are all black and hard, like that of a camel, thanks to the games we played as kids. I used to be down on all fours and pretend to be a dog, a tiger or some circus freak show. She was the "master". Never did i allow for an exchange of roles, not out of love though; at that age, it was all about jealousy and dominance. Part of the games involved putting my mum in siesta mode. This was to ensure that the coast was clear to play as much as we liked. Mum frowned at the childish games and at my dirty knees.
It was a right of passage for every child in our household to fall down the wooden stairs. And the other kid was blamed. Shruthi fell. So did i. Unconsciousness followed. A general dose of massage with ice cream for one, while the other was scolded and kept in detention. Fighting was part and parcel of our childhood. And the kid Shruthi, for important reasons, had to kept out of the two-man cricket match we played. Reason One. She was a girl. Two. She used to ask for a second chance when she got out. Three. That horrible crying and moaning if she was kicked out. Me and my other cousin were left to face her mum and her serious disapproval of our behavior. Once, it had got really bad and little Shruthi wailed and wept the whole afternoon, standing outside my room. Looking back, it was really stupid on my part to hurt her.
But time heals all wounds. We have shared more joys and she has supported me and our family at our time of need. True. Family never turns their back on you. And Shruthi has been the backbone of ours .
Her talkathons still continue. Her hairstyles' change faster than the seasons. She is the cynosure of any party or function she goes to. She is the appointed Fashion Godmother of all the girls in the family, of which we have quite a few and counting! Her warmth of heart still keeps us from freezing in loneliness.
A true INDIVIDUAL.

TEACHER'S SPECIAL: IDEAL JAWA ROTARY SCHOOL PART 1

My parents say i was rejected for this school. Had it not been for some silly antic i played, i would have missed the opportunity of a lifetime. I remember Sheila F. Irani with her costly cigarettes staring down and just popping a smile. Her husband was the legendary founder of the Jawa bike factory, Farooq Irani. If i'm a biker today, it's because of the school's charm that has rubbed on to me.
Back in those days, Ideal Jawa Rotary school was the creme de la creme of primary education, till 7th grade. It was a matter of status if you child was in this school. The only competitor i can remember was St. Joseph's. Ideal Jawa was located in the middle of the city. Those were truly the golden days of us, the school and Mysore.
The uniform was blue checks and shorts for boys and frock for girls, knee length  Some of us always used to outgrow these, vertically or horizontally. In the 7th grade, some of the fashionable girls stuck to the uniforms of 5th or 6th grades. This was the chagrin of our teachers and the delight of the boys, for obvious reasons.
Open day used to be more fun than sports day. This was when each class competed to be the best, in terms of presentation of models. From butterflys of thermacol to entire villages, no expense was spared to ensure that the best theme wins. The preparation for this used to start early. Most of the us could take the afternoons off to prepare charts and rearrange desks, while our parents toiled on the models.
Covering the notebooks in crisp brown paper was a must. The wrapper carried the logo of the school and this was a matter of pride. The canvas shoes had to be cleaned and not torn, especially on Wednesdays. On this day, we had to wear white. It was a nightmare for our parents. From stains of mud, gravy and jam to blood from our cuts, there was hardly a Wednesday when the uniforms came back intact. Saturdays were the best. One, it was a half-day. Two, it was 'colour dress' day. We dressed in our best and most prized, making sure an impression is created.

GAUTAM, THE LOVEABLE LOUDMOUTH

You always know when Gautam has arrived. So do your neighbours. And most of the time, they are just not pleased about it. Gautam calls out your name so loud, the entire neighborhood opens their door and quickly shuts it too. Imagine this during your afternoon siesta in the sleepy city of Mysore. And his choice of topics and words usually do the following to people: draw frowns, turn up the volume or quickly move away from the place.
Yes. That's Gautam in-your-face for you. The tall, lanky brahmin minces no words on issues of the world when he shouts and howls his disgust at them. And his facial expressions go well with it. He shows no regard to time, place or occasion. Be it youth forums, student meetings or Big Bazaar, if Gautam has to say it, he says it. These may be traffic conditions, bribe, sections of the Kamasutra or just plain bitching.
I stumbled upon this specimen in 11th grade. He wore a red colored cap. He resembled a gargoyle with a tucked in shirt. For some reason, he always checks whether his shirt his tucked in properly. I figured this may be because of his days in NCC. He knows how to get along with a variety of people and is an outdoors guy. He is a huge fan of road side chats and here too, he makes sure that the girl gang next to him hear his remarks of feminity and beauty, however weird they make be.
At first, you might be embarrassed by him. But, you can always count on him. I was touched and amazed at his dedication for completing a project work for my college. It involved creating a science model for eco-friendly village and he did it with all his heart.  Loyalty is one thing which i would associate with this guy. My respect for him grew more during our recent bike trip where, had it not been for him, I would have returned defeated.
All these make Gautam unique. It makes him an INDIVIDUAL.