எழுத முடியா வார்த்தைக்காக அழுத கண்ணீரின் மேல் காகிதமாக நீ.
ஏனென கேட்கிறாய்.
தெரியவில்லை.
நானா? என்கிறாய்.
ஐயோ இல்லை.
மௌனம், கேள்வியும் பதிலும்.
ஏனென கேட்கிறாய்.
தெரியவில்லை.
நானா? என்கிறாய்.
ஐயோ இல்லை.
மௌனம், கேள்வியும் பதிலும்.
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Almost two months since I left
It's been 56 days since I left India. Almost two months. WAY too many things have happened in the meantime; too much has changed. I am now in Verneuil sur Avre in France an hour away from Paris, I now work for the French education ministry as an English language assistant. I live in an apartment with two other language assistants, I cook my own food, do my own laundry, pay rent for the apartment I'm living in. I've gotten used to eating chicken with very less salt; steamed not fried. I can manage to eat with a fork and a knife. I make shopping lists and budget plans and I think too much about what I'm gonna have to make for the next meal. I know how to use a photocopier, I learnt how to subtitle videos and how to use a vacuum cleaner.
I've seen the Eiffel tower and witnessed some feelings I can't label, I walked almost all night around Paris watching the fireworks cast blurry shadows over the Seine. I met some very generous people who went out of their way to help me out. Someone who drove me around from town to town, someone who made life so much easier for me, someone who invited me to her place so I don't feel lonely, someone I admire a lot and someone my colleagues call my french mother.
I've taken trains and metros across Paris, I've seen it inside and out. I've had a young black guy flirt at me shamelessly; I've had some teenagers mock my hair and clothes. On the train that day I saw an old man playing the accordion for small change, he had a big smile on his face and the smile made his face more wrinkled. He looked adorable, he had no teeth, his coat had a patch and his pants needed hemming. He played some very famous french jazz songs from the seventies with so much cheer, I absolutely loved listening to him. He was in the front end of the compartment and I was at the back. As he came closer to the door he started playing my favourite Edith Piaf and it made me grin from ear to ear. He saw me grinning and came closer to my seat when I put my hand out so I could give him the coin I had. He comes closer, smiling all the time, sits down opposite me, takes the coin and kisses my hand and thanks me. I tell him I love Edith Piaf and he plays another favorite again, he then asks for my name and adds it to the song while singing it.
Oh the things that can happen to you.
I've seen the Eiffel tower and witnessed some feelings I can't label, I walked almost all night around Paris watching the fireworks cast blurry shadows over the Seine. I met some very generous people who went out of their way to help me out. Someone who drove me around from town to town, someone who made life so much easier for me, someone who invited me to her place so I don't feel lonely, someone I admire a lot and someone my colleagues call my french mother.
I've taken trains and metros across Paris, I've seen it inside and out. I've had a young black guy flirt at me shamelessly; I've had some teenagers mock my hair and clothes. On the train that day I saw an old man playing the accordion for small change, he had a big smile on his face and the smile made his face more wrinkled. He looked adorable, he had no teeth, his coat had a patch and his pants needed hemming. He played some very famous french jazz songs from the seventies with so much cheer, I absolutely loved listening to him. He was in the front end of the compartment and I was at the back. As he came closer to the door he started playing my favourite Edith Piaf and it made me grin from ear to ear. He saw me grinning and came closer to my seat when I put my hand out so I could give him the coin I had. He comes closer, smiling all the time, sits down opposite me, takes the coin and kisses my hand and thanks me. I tell him I love Edith Piaf and he plays another favorite again, he then asks for my name and adds it to the song while singing it.
Oh the things that can happen to you.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Pre Mighty - Day 2 : Mathura - Agra
We had to wake up early, Agra is four hours away from where we were apparently. But we didn't. Left home at 7. Breakfast on the road at a roadside pongal kadai. We had a smaller car today so uk, mum and I had to squeeze in.
Off we went on the Yamuna Expressway. We had to go to UP and get a permit of sorts to go to Mathura. Which only made this trip longer. Agra is in UP. I frankly thought it was in Delhi. But yaay I can add a state to the ones I've seen. (Cheap, I know.) SO now Mathura was the place where Lord Krishna was born, Gokul was where he grew up and Vrindavan was where he playboyfied all the gopikas. These two other places were pretty nearby but meh we're not the best krishna bhaktha family in town. Actually Mathura was the driver's idea. Anyway. After the posh neighborhoods and tall skyscrapers I'd seen in south Delhi, Mathura's narrow roads filled with pot holes reassured me - THIS was real India. The driver told us that the people of Mathura didn't want roads being built there because, it was on these streets that Lord Krishna had set his lotus feet on. (:P) But they seem to have reluctantly let the govt do it anyway. There were SO MANY cows on the road it reminded me of Mylapore maada veethis during my high schooling. The whole place , I kid you not, the whole place smelt of cow poop, which is not too bad if you come from Dindivanam where houses are swabbed with maattu saanam once a month. Grand mothers can list its holiness and purity you'll be glad they don't make you bathe with it. \
The people feed and take care of all the cows and buffalos apparently. Nice huh. This is what India used to be. Well atleast a litle bit. We used to care for animals, especially the cow, we used to care for people.
The temple was pretty good I can't tell you much about it because I was distracted by the Birth of Krishna story mum was telling us. My grandparents had 8 children too. (Kamsa however deserved to be killed. I mean, You know their 8th offspring is going to finish you and yet you put the both of them in the same prison cell giving them time, place and privacy?)
I learnt to say 'Nahi' (meaning No in Hindi) pretty confidently. Guides throw themselves at you, very forcefully and I mean it in the literal sense. This guy stopped our car and fell on it and forced the door open and was doing his best to become our guide. And there were so many little kids selling you all kinds of things. So if you can't say Nahi you're bound to go home with things shoved into your hands and face and everywhere.
Then it took us almost three hours to go to the Taj mahal. From the entrance to the point where we can't take any vehicles... it took us five minutes. We had to take a battery operated vehicle. looked like a little rickshaw. For ten rupees it was pretty smooth.
The moment I see the Taj peeking from behind a wall I realise I'm going to like this place. EVERYTHING about it was symmetrical, as the guide pointed out. These structures were HUGE and they stood against all tests of time. The Taj sparkles in white and the mosques and structures around it are all red. Rock hard and solid. It seemed like maintenance was going on. While on her deathbed apparently she asked for two promises from Shahjahan before he went to battle. One was to bring all their fourteen children up equally and the other was to build a monument over her grave like none other. And he seems to have done a decent job as far as the second promise goes.
It started raining. Pouring, I mean and it made the marble shine and it made the walk in the sun a little easy for us.
Out of nowhere a professional photographer joined us and took pictures of us and made us to silly poses. Even though they were on the costly side according to mum , dad thought they were good. He printed them and gave them to us in an album by the time we were done with the tour. The pictures did come out well.
BUT we were all SO exhausted by the time we were done... We just wanted to grab lunch and get home to sleeep! The driver though had other plans. He seemed determined to take us to this souvenir shop. We were so tired we couldn't even get out of the car.
Took us three hours almost to reach Delhi. On the way though we were lucky enough to spot a full rainbow and a double rainbow. How often does that happen?
So I saw three cities today. The other side of Delhi. Noida and Greater Noida - They are both growing to be monstrous cities. And Agra of course. Busy and rainy, full of statues and minars and beautiful gardens. Did you know Agra was once the city of gardens?
Do I wish someone built a Tajmahal for me? Nope. Not if it meant dying after giving birth to fourteen malnourished kids. Do I wish I'd studied my History better? Yes. I miss Mrs. Tessy. I loved her classes. She made them interesting. And NOW I'm angry with the English for taking our Peacock Throne away. The Kohinoor is ours too. *Grunt*
Off we went on the Yamuna Expressway. We had to go to UP and get a permit of sorts to go to Mathura. Which only made this trip longer. Agra is in UP. I frankly thought it was in Delhi. But yaay I can add a state to the ones I've seen. (Cheap, I know.) SO now Mathura was the place where Lord Krishna was born, Gokul was where he grew up and Vrindavan was where he playboyfied all the gopikas. These two other places were pretty nearby but meh we're not the best krishna bhaktha family in town. Actually Mathura was the driver's idea. Anyway. After the posh neighborhoods and tall skyscrapers I'd seen in south Delhi, Mathura's narrow roads filled with pot holes reassured me - THIS was real India. The driver told us that the people of Mathura didn't want roads being built there because, it was on these streets that Lord Krishna had set his lotus feet on. (:P) But they seem to have reluctantly let the govt do it anyway. There were SO MANY cows on the road it reminded me of Mylapore maada veethis during my high schooling. The whole place , I kid you not, the whole place smelt of cow poop, which is not too bad if you come from Dindivanam where houses are swabbed with maattu saanam once a month. Grand mothers can list its holiness and purity you'll be glad they don't make you bathe with it. \
The people feed and take care of all the cows and buffalos apparently. Nice huh. This is what India used to be. Well atleast a litle bit. We used to care for animals, especially the cow, we used to care for people.
The temple was pretty good I can't tell you much about it because I was distracted by the Birth of Krishna story mum was telling us. My grandparents had 8 children too. (Kamsa however deserved to be killed. I mean, You know their 8th offspring is going to finish you and yet you put the both of them in the same prison cell giving them time, place and privacy?)
I learnt to say 'Nahi' (meaning No in Hindi) pretty confidently. Guides throw themselves at you, very forcefully and I mean it in the literal sense. This guy stopped our car and fell on it and forced the door open and was doing his best to become our guide. And there were so many little kids selling you all kinds of things. So if you can't say Nahi you're bound to go home with things shoved into your hands and face and everywhere.
Then it took us almost three hours to go to the Taj mahal. From the entrance to the point where we can't take any vehicles... it took us five minutes. We had to take a battery operated vehicle. looked like a little rickshaw. For ten rupees it was pretty smooth.
The moment I see the Taj peeking from behind a wall I realise I'm going to like this place. EVERYTHING about it was symmetrical, as the guide pointed out. These structures were HUGE and they stood against all tests of time. The Taj sparkles in white and the mosques and structures around it are all red. Rock hard and solid. It seemed like maintenance was going on. While on her deathbed apparently she asked for two promises from Shahjahan before he went to battle. One was to bring all their fourteen children up equally and the other was to build a monument over her grave like none other. And he seems to have done a decent job as far as the second promise goes.
It started raining. Pouring, I mean and it made the marble shine and it made the walk in the sun a little easy for us.
Out of nowhere a professional photographer joined us and took pictures of us and made us to silly poses. Even though they were on the costly side according to mum , dad thought they were good. He printed them and gave them to us in an album by the time we were done with the tour. The pictures did come out well.
BUT we were all SO exhausted by the time we were done... We just wanted to grab lunch and get home to sleeep! The driver though had other plans. He seemed determined to take us to this souvenir shop. We were so tired we couldn't even get out of the car.
Took us three hours almost to reach Delhi. On the way though we were lucky enough to spot a full rainbow and a double rainbow. How often does that happen?
So I saw three cities today. The other side of Delhi. Noida and Greater Noida - They are both growing to be monstrous cities. And Agra of course. Busy and rainy, full of statues and minars and beautiful gardens. Did you know Agra was once the city of gardens?
Do I wish someone built a Tajmahal for me? Nope. Not if it meant dying after giving birth to fourteen malnourished kids. Do I wish I'd studied my History better? Yes. I miss Mrs. Tessy. I loved her classes. She made them interesting. And NOW I'm angry with the English for taking our Peacock Throne away. The Kohinoor is ours too. *Grunt*
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Pre Mighty - Day 1 - Delhi
Around this time last night, mum, dad, uk and I were on a Delhi bound Spicejet flight. The plane left Chennai at 7 pm and reached Delhi at around 10 pm. It was our first time to the shiny new Chennai Airport and we were all really impressed with well how shiny it was. We were there at 3.30 pm (hours early) ; after checking our luggages in we pretty much had nothing to do but sit down and wallow in the oomph of the airport. ( I thought it was going to take us at least an hour to get our baggage through but we were done earlier. My check in alone weighs 25kgs but I'm allowed only 23kgs! God help me.) The plane finally left chennai, I let uk take the window seat.
The views were amazing... no really. The roads looked like tiny veins of lava running in straight lines, there were webs of yellow lamps scattered all over, cars moving like bugs. I thought of an idea to propose to. Someone. You spell the words "Marry me" with lights on, say, a cricket ground and get him to see it. (Um.)
Well you get the picture. It was just that beautiful.
I decided to tweet throughout this trip so I remember these things later.
In the morning we went to a family friends' place and she was to show us around Delhi. We did visit some places. I liked the idea of one unified faith... I am speaking of course of the Lotus Temple or the Bahai' place of worship. It is a comman place of quiet and meditation; people of all religions and castes are encouraged to pray to or meditate their God in silence inside a huge hall. The hall looks like a giant lotus... giant but not monstrous. And around the Lotus you'd see a clear blue pool of water beckoning you to come take a dip. The inside of the hall evidently looks like the inside of a Lotus and I'd like to think that they chose the Lotus as their symbol because it beautifully conveys the idea of many religions merging towards a path that leads to one God. No, seriously, you'll think of it too when you're inside. Frankly its the one idea of reaching God that I like. Yet.
After brief lunch at Tamilnadu Bhavan, we went shopping in Sarojini Nagar. And then we made quick stops at Rashtrapathi Bhavan, India Gate and The Parliament. I wish we'd went inside to take a good look and I wished to find a tour guide who could tell me interesting titbits about these monuments. Oh and also I must say no picture of these monuments do justice to how majestic and beautiful they all look in real life.
Two more days to roam around Delhi. Whew. Ta!
Monday, September 23, 2013
Final Preparations!
The school told me that they've set a room aside for me in a newly built apartment in a town nearby and that I will be sharing the apartment with two other language assistants! I'm beginning to think I don't deserve these people. Sara and the school are being so polite, thoughtful and extremely sweet with me. What could I possibly do in return? I mean she is practically taking care of EVERYTHING I'm going to need, she's even going to be helping me out with transport! She has invited me to stay the weekend at her place and I was more than happy to accept. I'm taking a lamp and a gem stone jewel box to give her. She sent me a description of the apartment and here it is :
I found a translator in Bourges who accepted to translate my birth certificate to French for 40 euros. (30 - Translation, 10 - Bank transfer charges). She asked me if she had to send it to India (envoi recommandé) or to an address within France (envoi ordinaire) The envoi recommandé would have cost me an additional 5 euros but Sara saved me that money by saying I could have it posted to her home address.
Finally shopped for clothes and mock packed my suitcases and got them weighed. I really have to filter more. :(
Bought some Amar Chitra Katha books for the kids.
Thanks to UK I have a pair of shiny shoes, a shiny pair of shoes I never would have bought on my own and I'm taking it to France. Found some clothes I can't wear here in India... taking them as well. All my documents scanned and printed out, tickets printed out... This is getting real. Leaving Chennai tomorrow at 6:50. Delhi... keep your chaat shops safe... here I come.
See that last paragraph! :) I'm thanking my stars for entrusting me to this sweet person. OOOOOH and I can't wait to have roommates!! I bet its going to be like FRIENDS. More than anything I can't wait to have my own room. No more fighting for the sheets with UK. Phew.Your room is one of four bedrooms in a brand new, large and spacious apartment situated in the grounds of the Collège Maurice Vlamink in the town of Verneuil sur Avre. You will have your own separate bedroom with a bed, table and chairs, and space for your clothes in built-in wardrobes. There is a kitchen with a fridge, washing-machine for clothes, and an electric oven and hob (soon to arrive!). The telephone and Internet lines are due to be installed in the next couple of weeks.There is a large shared lounge/dining area with a TV and sofas in as well as a table and chairs. There is one bathroom and one shower-room and a toilet. The building was completed in the summer. The headmaster of the Collège Vlaminck lives upstairs he is new to the school and is still unpacking his things.
I can now tell you that you will be sharing the flat with two other language assistants: one who will be working in the Spanish department in the nearby Lycée de Verneuil and one who will be working in the English deparments of both the Collège and the Lycée in Verneuil. So there will be three of you to keep each other company.For the moment I am working on finding all the basic equipment necessary to make your stay in the new flat as comfortable as possible: bedclothes, bathtowels, kitchen equipment and utensils, pots and pans for cooking etc. This will all be ready for when you arrive. Obviously, as the flat is brand new, you'll need some time all together to decide how you want to organise things, decorate the place and make it more homey. I think we'll be looking at putting some shelving up for you as soon as possible, as well as curtain rails at the windows to give you all some privacy. Luckily, my husband is great with power tools!!! It's all very new but absolutely ten times better than what I had all those years ago when I arrived in France!
I found a translator in Bourges who accepted to translate my birth certificate to French for 40 euros. (30 - Translation, 10 - Bank transfer charges). She asked me if she had to send it to India (envoi recommandé) or to an address within France (envoi ordinaire) The envoi recommandé would have cost me an additional 5 euros but Sara saved me that money by saying I could have it posted to her home address.
Finally shopped for clothes and mock packed my suitcases and got them weighed. I really have to filter more. :(
Bought some Amar Chitra Katha books for the kids.
Thanks to UK I have a pair of shiny shoes, a shiny pair of shoes I never would have bought on my own and I'm taking it to France. Found some clothes I can't wear here in India... taking them as well. All my documents scanned and printed out, tickets printed out... This is getting real. Leaving Chennai tomorrow at 6:50. Delhi... keep your chaat shops safe... here I come.
Monday, September 2, 2013
Mighty Flight - Visa
I finally have my Visa! It says Travailleur temporaire. And as of now I have permission to be in the French territory as of now; I am told that once I reach Paris my visa will be converted to a Schengen Visa (after the submission of OFII forms etc)
Documents required for application of Visa:
1. Arrêté de nomination
2. Passport
3. Internation Air Tickets
4. Travel Insurance
5. Attestation de logement
6.Letter from the Embassy confirming your appointment as language assistant
7. Letter from employer (if currently employed)
8.OFII form
Some of the other assistants had received their arretes and they had all started applying for their visas. Mine took some time to reach me. Once it did, JS sent me a mail asking me to try and get an attestation de logement stating that a room has been reserved for me in Nonancourt. Mr. Valentin the principal was very helpful; he sent one at a very short notice despite the fact that he was in vacation. And if I am to believe what I have heard about how sacred their vacations are to the French....
So once I had all the required documents I visited the VFS website and fixed an appointment with them. I didn't have to go all the way to the Pondicherry Consulate because there was a center here in Gopalapuram. The office was easy to locate and the staff were helpful. You are checked several times before you are let in so remember to not carry electronics. Once you're in you already feel like you're at some posh airport. It felt nice. I wanted to sit down and quietly read a french book and be all fancy except that I'd forgotten it at home. There were a lot of agents and each agent had many applications so the wait was pretty long.
I was secretly hoping they would send me to Pondicherry because mine was a special case but no. The guy at the french counter happened to be atudent of AFM and he was happy to sort things out for me. I had to redo my photos and they had a photocopy / passport photo place right inside the same building so it was convenient. I didnt have to pay visa fees as I was a language assistant but I had to pay 750 Rs at the bank counter on the same floor. Once I submitted the challan the guy took my passport and my OFII form, put them along with the documents I had submitted in a folder and told me to come by after a few days to pick the visa up. I could have had it door delivered but I wanted to get out of home. A couple of days later I received a mail saying my visa was ready to be collected from the centre. When I did go there The visa was printed to a sheet on my passport and my OFII form was pinned to it. I have untill 25th of May in France. Nice.
Documents required for application of Visa:
1. Arrêté de nomination
2. Passport
3. Internation Air Tickets
4. Travel Insurance
5. Attestation de logement
6.Letter from the Embassy confirming your appointment as language assistant
7. Letter from employer (if currently employed)
8.OFII form
Some of the other assistants had received their arretes and they had all started applying for their visas. Mine took some time to reach me. Once it did, JS sent me a mail asking me to try and get an attestation de logement stating that a room has been reserved for me in Nonancourt. Mr. Valentin the principal was very helpful; he sent one at a very short notice despite the fact that he was in vacation. And if I am to believe what I have heard about how sacred their vacations are to the French....
So once I had all the required documents I visited the VFS website and fixed an appointment with them. I didn't have to go all the way to the Pondicherry Consulate because there was a center here in Gopalapuram. The office was easy to locate and the staff were helpful. You are checked several times before you are let in so remember to not carry electronics. Once you're in you already feel like you're at some posh airport. It felt nice. I wanted to sit down and quietly read a french book and be all fancy except that I'd forgotten it at home. There were a lot of agents and each agent had many applications so the wait was pretty long.
I was secretly hoping they would send me to Pondicherry because mine was a special case but no. The guy at the french counter happened to be atudent of AFM and he was happy to sort things out for me. I had to redo my photos and they had a photocopy / passport photo place right inside the same building so it was convenient. I didnt have to pay visa fees as I was a language assistant but I had to pay 750 Rs at the bank counter on the same floor. Once I submitted the challan the guy took my passport and my OFII form, put them along with the documents I had submitted in a folder and told me to come by after a few days to pick the visa up. I could have had it door delivered but I wanted to get out of home. A couple of days later I received a mail saying my visa was ready to be collected from the centre. When I did go there The visa was printed to a sheet on my passport and my OFII form was pinned to it. I have untill 25th of May in France. Nice.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Mighty Flight - Nonancourt
That's where this journey is taking me. A little town near Rouen, 90 Kms away from Paris. THIS little town... Population : 2000+, Surface Area : 7 Km. I got a mail from Ms. Sara Dinand on the 28th of June. What a warm friendly mail it was.
"We'd love to hear from you as soon as possible so that we can prepare for your arrival in the best way possible and chat with you about organising your stay with us. For the moment we have simply received a piece of paper with your name, email address and nationality on - that's all! So if you have the time, please get in touch and we can answer any questions you may have."
And then we went on chatting about things. She told me they were all excited to have someone join their team from so far away! She took away what was one of my biggest concerns: Getting to Nonancourt from Paris CDG. She said,
"When you arrive in Paris (which airport by the way, because there are two airports in Paris - Charles De Gaulle or Orly?) the easiest way to get to Nonancourt is by using the train. Having said this, between now and September we'll quite probably be able to work out getting into Paris to meet you and drive you back here."
How coool! :)
I can't wait to meet her and the team of teachers. Mr. Marc Valentin, the school principal, is helping me out currently with the documents I require for the Visa.
OHOHOH! Also, they said they might be able to arrange accommodation for me at a bigger town nearby, in a school where there are going to be other language assistants I can share a room with!
"Our school does not have any accommodation on site for you at this time but the headmaster, aware of this, has already made the necessary arrangements with the headmistress of the school in the next town.
"We'd love to hear from you as soon as possible so that we can prepare for your arrival in the best way possible and chat with you about organising your stay with us. For the moment we have simply received a piece of paper with your name, email address and nationality on - that's all! So if you have the time, please get in touch and we can answer any questions you may have."
And then we went on chatting about things. She told me they were all excited to have someone join their team from so far away! She took away what was one of my biggest concerns: Getting to Nonancourt from Paris CDG. She said,
"When you arrive in Paris (which airport by the way, because there are two airports in Paris - Charles De Gaulle or Orly?) the easiest way to get to Nonancourt is by using the train. Having said this, between now and September we'll quite probably be able to work out getting into Paris to meet you and drive you back here."
How coool! :)
I can't wait to meet her and the team of teachers. Mr. Marc Valentin, the school principal, is helping me out currently with the documents I require for the Visa.
OHOHOH! Also, they said they might be able to arrange accommodation for me at a bigger town nearby, in a school where there are going to be other language assistants I can share a room with!
"Our school does not have any accommodation on site for you at this time but the headmaster, aware of this, has already made the necessary arrangements with the headmistress of the school in the next town.
Your accommodation will therefore be in a slightly bigger town than Nonancourt - it's called Verneuil sur Avre. Nonancourt is a very small place and although it is filled with history, there is not much to do after work. In Verneuil on the other hand, there are lots more activities going on.
There are many teachers in the school who travel from Verneuil to Nonancourt and they organise car transportation (car-pooling we call it) so that they travel together every day: keeping fuel costs down as well as running costs too. This means that you will be able to be picked up and dropped off every day if you want. Times vary daily but there are usually two or three different departure and return times, depending on the staff's timetables...There is a train service from Nonancourt to Verneuil but it's very infrequent. There is no bus service between the two towns. Obviously these are all things that we will take into account when sorting out your weekly timetable."
I mean, HOW THOUGHTFUL! I practically have nothing to worry about any more! I can't wait to go there and do my very best for them as a language assistant.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
The Mighty Flight - Passport
Don't be silly, you need to have your passport to be able to fly to France. No wait. You need to have a Passport even to apply for the IELTS. It's not all that easy. The passport office keeps changing their URL and make offices out of tall buildings hidden behind even taller ones. But that's not the most difficult part.
First, make sure you have all documents. Getting the documents to be submitted itself takes time. You'll need a proof of identity and a proof of residence. And Bank account statement. Get one of those agents to do it for you. Less hassle. He'll know his way around all convoluted paperwork and things. The passport office overflows with people and getting an appointment means you've to go through a long process. So when you do actually get an appointment, take ALL necessary documents. Be calm, be cool. They'll take your fingerprints and things. And all your certificates and documents would be verified. It's a good two hour session so remember to carry a novel. But don't forget what's happening around you. You just cant afford to miss your turn. They've a juice bar and some sandwiches inside the waiting room (and bathrooms too). So you can buy snacks when you're hungry. You can't leave the waiting hall once you're checked in so take all necessary precaution.
Dress properly. Wear decent clothes. Don't do anything stylish with your hair. Just wash it so you don't look like you're one of the Kumbhmela dudes. They'll want you to have the most neutral look on your face while they take the picture. Make sure your hair isn't covering your forehead. I had pretty short hair but the guy at the counter insisted I brush it again and again. Don't grin like a fool when they ask you to look into what looks like a webcam. They'll ask you to stop smiling. It's embarrassing.
The ambiance reminded me of an airport so I was looking to meet interesting people and make friends et al. Funny. You can ogle at the rare cute guy or the not-uncommon cute baby. They're all fun. When you're done they'll let you know. Don't throw away any of the tiny paper receipts, chits, print outs they give you. They meticulously collect every single one back. Once you do get out after AALL the formality, you can walk out a free woman. And then wait for 14 days. (Mine took a couple more days) You'll have a nice police gentleman visit your house and talk to your neighbours (people whose names and addresses you have to provide while applying for the passport). He'll then need you to fill a form. It'll ask you for your criminal record or jail time and you can feel like a badass for not having any. Sign.
Wait some more. It'll then come to you. By post. In a yellow envelope. The postman will insist on delivering it to you and you only. Get it from him. Feel proud about recieving something important all for yourself for the first time. Open up the parcel. Smell your passport. Its like they've made it out of the paper they make currency notes with. Look at all the empty pages that will later be filled with stamps and things from all possible countries far far away. Look the last page. See your passport size photo. Feel terrible. You'll get over it, though. You now have a passport! Use it as ID proof to get into some shady places? Yeah why not!
First, make sure you have all documents. Getting the documents to be submitted itself takes time. You'll need a proof of identity and a proof of residence. And Bank account statement. Get one of those agents to do it for you. Less hassle. He'll know his way around all convoluted paperwork and things. The passport office overflows with people and getting an appointment means you've to go through a long process. So when you do actually get an appointment, take ALL necessary documents. Be calm, be cool. They'll take your fingerprints and things. And all your certificates and documents would be verified. It's a good two hour session so remember to carry a novel. But don't forget what's happening around you. You just cant afford to miss your turn. They've a juice bar and some sandwiches inside the waiting room (and bathrooms too). So you can buy snacks when you're hungry. You can't leave the waiting hall once you're checked in so take all necessary precaution.
Dress properly. Wear decent clothes. Don't do anything stylish with your hair. Just wash it so you don't look like you're one of the Kumbhmela dudes. They'll want you to have the most neutral look on your face while they take the picture. Make sure your hair isn't covering your forehead. I had pretty short hair but the guy at the counter insisted I brush it again and again. Don't grin like a fool when they ask you to look into what looks like a webcam. They'll ask you to stop smiling. It's embarrassing.
The ambiance reminded me of an airport so I was looking to meet interesting people and make friends et al. Funny. You can ogle at the rare cute guy or the not-uncommon cute baby. They're all fun. When you're done they'll let you know. Don't throw away any of the tiny paper receipts, chits, print outs they give you. They meticulously collect every single one back. Once you do get out after AALL the formality, you can walk out a free woman. And then wait for 14 days. (Mine took a couple more days) You'll have a nice police gentleman visit your house and talk to your neighbours (people whose names and addresses you have to provide while applying for the passport). He'll then need you to fill a form. It'll ask you for your criminal record or jail time and you can feel like a badass for not having any. Sign.
Wait some more. It'll then come to you. By post. In a yellow envelope. The postman will insist on delivering it to you and you only. Get it from him. Feel proud about recieving something important all for yourself for the first time. Open up the parcel. Smell your passport. Its like they've made it out of the paper they make currency notes with. Look at all the empty pages that will later be filled with stamps and things from all possible countries far far away. Look the last page. See your passport size photo. Feel terrible. You'll get over it, though. You now have a passport! Use it as ID proof to get into some shady places? Yeah why not!
Friday, June 7, 2013
The Mighty Flight - Prologue
High time I started talking about my Mighty Flight. I should have started in March but what with busy schedules and lazyness. Its about to happen on the 28th of September. From the Indira Gandhi International Airport. This is , literally, a dream come true. A dream that is at least three years old. Something I've been wanting with all in me.
2010
Adeline ma'am mentions it to me for the very first time. I'm doing my B1 at the Alliance Francaise and for some reason teachers think I'm good and I must be informed of this. Well its this program called the "English language assistant program" through which English speaking foreigners are selected by the French government to assist English teachers in its schools. As an assistant you are supposed to be conducting conversation classes to high school and primary school students, conduct games and workshops for them... make sure they speak good English etc. You are paid a monthly salary/stipend of 750 euros per month and you'll have to work for a few hours per week. This obviously caught my fancy. As someone who found pride in speaking the little french I knew then, as someone who listened to all French stories wide eyed, who had so badly wanted to see the Eiffel tower... It was the best thing that could happen to me! But I had to wait. This wasn't done that easily.
2011
I finish college, I've had a one year break with French. I'm still stuck with just level 3. A three day trip to the EFLU Hyderabad (temple of foreign languages and foreign language research) gets me wanting to do M.A English and become a research scholar who discusses semantics and linguistics with a fellow English professor till about 2.AM on a night train journey (like the ones who travelled with me to Hyderabad). There is something incredibly .... how do I put it... umm... Hot... about someone who can quote Shakespeare or Keats or just any good author/poet at the right time and in the right way. But I digress. So once I return to Chennai I have this long discussion about how I wanted to pursue a Masters degree course in English. By now Adeline ma'am has suggested that I do M.A French simply because I was good at it and it is great as a career option too. And she reminds me about the English language assistants program. (At this point I see this as my one ticket to get out of home, try fending for myself, with my own little salary and probably my own little apartment (Thank you Friends, HIMYM, Happy Endings and BBT) and in lovely France of all places! Cheese and Bread to eat, coolio wine to drink, flirty French to speak; how COULD I deny THAT!) So I drag Sharon along to Madras University buy off two applications... one for M.A English and one for M.A French. I fill both of them up. Submit them both. Wait patiently for threee long depressing months, threee long depressing months I spent on the couch doing nothing but watch TV and cope with headaches from all the TV watching, not knowing what happens next.
Department of French and other foreign languages, University of Madras sends me the first call letter : Interview two weeks later. Ahha so suddenly I saw myself walking up a chilly foggy mountain road with a Baguette in hand. After a lot of dilemma I decide to go. Masters in French! Take that in. So they ask me Why I'm going cross major (UG major English) and I say "pour le plaisir!" ( 'For the pleasure' , it sounds so much more lovely in French, trust me. Anyway the jury seemed happy with me, I was able to answer properly despite my one year french gap... I was just happy I had gotten through this.) And after the interview it became clear I wanted to do french.
Department of English also sends a call letter : written exam a week later. So Shilpa and I (she had also applied) go to the test venue but do not sit for the exam. We just went out, had fun at the beach and went home and told our parents we did the exam well. But it came back to bite our asses. Shilpa doesnt find a seat at Ethiraj, so Amma talks to Madras Uni English department Head, discovers we did not write the entrance exam at all. And well what happened after that didn't kill me. So no English Dept. And I join French.
First day of Uni, My HOD talks about The English Language Assistant Program. And I love her so naturally I love this thing more.
2012
I had to apply for my passport and needed my birth certificate for the same. That's when my family realises my birth isn't registered at the Municipal office. (This is also when I think maybe I was adopted I mean let's face it they didnt register my birth) But then LKG 1994 records are dug up at school and they find mine.
I also had to write IELTS and my IELTS score decided whether or not I get in.
The French embassy calls for applications for the program in September.
Last date to submit applications December 15th.
January 15th Recieved confirmation of Pre selection.
January 22 sent my " coupon de confirmation et la convention pour le programme" to Delhi.
March 20th ( Turned out to be an important date for special reasons) - Recieved my confirmation. YAAY!! I'm going to Rouen!!!
So I'd applied to Nantes because it was suggested by Someone. But I'd gotten Rouen. Hey No I'm not complaining. I'm happy to go anywhere in France. I'm still awaiting my "arrete de nomination" which tells me to which exact city and school I'm posted to.
June 5 - Booked my ticket. Delhi - Paris. Indira Gandhi International Airport to Paris CDG. Leaves Delhi on the 28th of September at 3: 20 AM and reaches Paris at 10: 45 am. Air France. Seat 17J.
17J. It really is happening. And yet it feels like it hasn't really sunk into me.
2010
Adeline ma'am mentions it to me for the very first time. I'm doing my B1 at the Alliance Francaise and for some reason teachers think I'm good and I must be informed of this. Well its this program called the "English language assistant program" through which English speaking foreigners are selected by the French government to assist English teachers in its schools. As an assistant you are supposed to be conducting conversation classes to high school and primary school students, conduct games and workshops for them... make sure they speak good English etc. You are paid a monthly salary/stipend of 750 euros per month and you'll have to work for a few hours per week. This obviously caught my fancy. As someone who found pride in speaking the little french I knew then, as someone who listened to all French stories wide eyed, who had so badly wanted to see the Eiffel tower... It was the best thing that could happen to me! But I had to wait. This wasn't done that easily.
2011
I finish college, I've had a one year break with French. I'm still stuck with just level 3. A three day trip to the EFLU Hyderabad (temple of foreign languages and foreign language research) gets me wanting to do M.A English and become a research scholar who discusses semantics and linguistics with a fellow English professor till about 2.AM on a night train journey (like the ones who travelled with me to Hyderabad). There is something incredibly .... how do I put it... umm... Hot... about someone who can quote Shakespeare or Keats or just any good author/poet at the right time and in the right way. But I digress. So once I return to Chennai I have this long discussion about how I wanted to pursue a Masters degree course in English. By now Adeline ma'am has suggested that I do M.A French simply because I was good at it and it is great as a career option too. And she reminds me about the English language assistants program. (At this point I see this as my one ticket to get out of home, try fending for myself, with my own little salary and probably my own little apartment (Thank you Friends, HIMYM, Happy Endings and BBT) and in lovely France of all places! Cheese and Bread to eat, coolio wine to drink, flirty French to speak; how COULD I deny THAT!) So I drag Sharon along to Madras University buy off two applications... one for M.A English and one for M.A French. I fill both of them up. Submit them both. Wait patiently for threee long depressing months, threee long depressing months I spent on the couch doing nothing but watch TV and cope with headaches from all the TV watching, not knowing what happens next.
Department of French and other foreign languages, University of Madras sends me the first call letter : Interview two weeks later. Ahha so suddenly I saw myself walking up a chilly foggy mountain road with a Baguette in hand. After a lot of dilemma I decide to go. Masters in French! Take that in. So they ask me Why I'm going cross major (UG major English) and I say "pour le plaisir!" ( 'For the pleasure' , it sounds so much more lovely in French, trust me. Anyway the jury seemed happy with me, I was able to answer properly despite my one year french gap... I was just happy I had gotten through this.) And after the interview it became clear I wanted to do french.
Department of English also sends a call letter : written exam a week later. So Shilpa and I (she had also applied) go to the test venue but do not sit for the exam. We just went out, had fun at the beach and went home and told our parents we did the exam well. But it came back to bite our asses. Shilpa doesnt find a seat at Ethiraj, so Amma talks to Madras Uni English department Head, discovers we did not write the entrance exam at all. And well what happened after that didn't kill me. So no English Dept. And I join French.
First day of Uni, My HOD talks about The English Language Assistant Program. And I love her so naturally I love this thing more.
2012
I had to apply for my passport and needed my birth certificate for the same. That's when my family realises my birth isn't registered at the Municipal office. (This is also when I think maybe I was adopted I mean let's face it they didnt register my birth) But then LKG 1994 records are dug up at school and they find mine.
I also had to write IELTS and my IELTS score decided whether or not I get in.
The French embassy calls for applications for the program in September.
Last date to submit applications December 15th.
January 15th Recieved confirmation of Pre selection.
January 22 sent my " coupon de confirmation et la convention pour le programme" to Delhi.
March 20th ( Turned out to be an important date for special reasons) - Recieved my confirmation. YAAY!! I'm going to Rouen!!!
So I'd applied to Nantes because it was suggested by Someone. But I'd gotten Rouen. Hey No I'm not complaining. I'm happy to go anywhere in France. I'm still awaiting my "arrete de nomination" which tells me to which exact city and school I'm posted to.
June 5 - Booked my ticket. Delhi - Paris. Indira Gandhi International Airport to Paris CDG. Leaves Delhi on the 28th of September at 3: 20 AM and reaches Paris at 10: 45 am. Air France. Seat 17J.
17J. It really is happening. And yet it feels like it hasn't really sunk into me.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Yes, Madame. Part 1
I've technically been a teacher since last July. I started with a nice little sunday batch at Here and Now with no more than fifteen kids and young adults. I taught them level one French and I had fun doing it. (I am not so sure if they did too.) It started with my internship at AFM in May 2012, my first opportunity to enter this place as a non student. I'd done Pedadogie at Uni the previous semester and Mme. Mira had made it all the more interesting and inviting. The internship came right in time to put the little, vague theory I had picked up at uni, to practice. I observed classes and supervised DELF exams during the internship. Some classes I observed, turned out to be some real eye openers, some of them taught by both good and bad example. I was in an A1 class, all over again but this time I paid no attention to what was being taught but more to HOW it was being handled in class.
During this period of observation ( I realise now) I was quick to judge. I had an opinion about how a particular lesson was taught and felt bad about how certain people were dealt with in class. It was easy to note when the teacher went wrong and when things were done in a way that seemed wrong. i was proven wrong soon. Here and Now offered me a job the following July. Sunday from 8 to 12 in the morning. It was a true challenge. Early mornings on the weekend - not the best of times for students to be able to study. I was a mere starter, I did my best to give all I could. But in vain. I saw yawning faces. Nothing makes my heart sink more than yawning faces. It's the biggest negative feedback you can ever get as a teacher. I explained a lot, I acted things out, I came up with games... I ended up feeling like I had no future as a teacher. A bad teacher had no reason to live. Every class threw existential questions at me. Am I good enough? Has my journey gone the right way thus far? How can I be better? Why do I suck at this? It would leave me wondering why I am doing this thing this way. My mother is a brilliant teacher, shouldnt it be in my blood or something?
As a student I was the ideal girl. Being the class rep meant something to me. Home work had to be done, everyday. I wouldn't talk in class, I would fight, scream, yell and jump to make sure I answered every question. I was always and am still the bright, smiling first bencher. This was probably the reason why I found it so infuriating to have NOISY, IRRITATING people in classes I took. That was just something I could neither comprehend nor accept. WHY aren't you happy just learning? Stop being irritating! AT AFM the first batch I handled was a kids batch, with this SUPER ANNOYING kid, who had absolutely no classroom manners. He was 8. But still. NO class room manners. He'd jump and he'd scream and he'd be noisy and he'd drag chairs around, pour ink on himself and so on. With the help of the threatening his mother and I put him through, I was able to get him to dial down just a little bit. But here's the catch. He was pretty bright and if you did succeed in getting him to sit down with a paper and a pen and listen to you, he was capable of grasping things very very quickly. That's sad, right? This threatening the kid to behave like a teenager amongst whom he was put... that was unfair to him. And if I was a better teacher maybe I would have handled better. I spent days feeling guilty about how this kid made me feel. I was depressed that I couldn't get him to learn anything some days. Some days he'd irritate me so much I'd end up showing all that frustration on mum or dad or the people around me. I needed help on handling him and I had nowhere to turn to. The insecurity didn't help me either.
But teaching isn't all bad. For every noisy irritating kid, there are two adorable little ones who offer you the jellies they packed from home! Another two that are the sweetest and the most studious. :P :D This new kids batch I am doing now, I'm learning so much about how to handle them. Have you been in a room full of over excited 8 year olds? Its an experience. It sounds like you're in the beach on a kaanum pongal day. Trust me. You can't hear your own thoughts. Your throat would ache from all the screaming. There is only one thing that brings them back to some order. Playing their favorite action song. Put on the video and let the song play... They'll dance and sing the entire day. They have no qualms about colouring as many pages as you might want them to colour or recite as many rhymes as you want them to. Make them play ball and before you know it one would hit the other with it. And the things they say to you and amongst themselves... Sometimes I have trouble controlling the urge to lift some of them off the ground and cuddle them away. Nah. Kids are alll lovely!
During this period of observation ( I realise now) I was quick to judge. I had an opinion about how a particular lesson was taught and felt bad about how certain people were dealt with in class. It was easy to note when the teacher went wrong and when things were done in a way that seemed wrong. i was proven wrong soon. Here and Now offered me a job the following July. Sunday from 8 to 12 in the morning. It was a true challenge. Early mornings on the weekend - not the best of times for students to be able to study. I was a mere starter, I did my best to give all I could. But in vain. I saw yawning faces. Nothing makes my heart sink more than yawning faces. It's the biggest negative feedback you can ever get as a teacher. I explained a lot, I acted things out, I came up with games... I ended up feeling like I had no future as a teacher. A bad teacher had no reason to live. Every class threw existential questions at me. Am I good enough? Has my journey gone the right way thus far? How can I be better? Why do I suck at this? It would leave me wondering why I am doing this thing this way. My mother is a brilliant teacher, shouldnt it be in my blood or something?
As a student I was the ideal girl. Being the class rep meant something to me. Home work had to be done, everyday. I wouldn't talk in class, I would fight, scream, yell and jump to make sure I answered every question. I was always and am still the bright, smiling first bencher. This was probably the reason why I found it so infuriating to have NOISY, IRRITATING people in classes I took. That was just something I could neither comprehend nor accept. WHY aren't you happy just learning? Stop being irritating! AT AFM the first batch I handled was a kids batch, with this SUPER ANNOYING kid, who had absolutely no classroom manners. He was 8. But still. NO class room manners. He'd jump and he'd scream and he'd be noisy and he'd drag chairs around, pour ink on himself and so on. With the help of the threatening his mother and I put him through, I was able to get him to dial down just a little bit. But here's the catch. He was pretty bright and if you did succeed in getting him to sit down with a paper and a pen and listen to you, he was capable of grasping things very very quickly. That's sad, right? This threatening the kid to behave like a teenager amongst whom he was put... that was unfair to him. And if I was a better teacher maybe I would have handled better. I spent days feeling guilty about how this kid made me feel. I was depressed that I couldn't get him to learn anything some days. Some days he'd irritate me so much I'd end up showing all that frustration on mum or dad or the people around me. I needed help on handling him and I had nowhere to turn to. The insecurity didn't help me either.
But teaching isn't all bad. For every noisy irritating kid, there are two adorable little ones who offer you the jellies they packed from home! Another two that are the sweetest and the most studious. :P :D This new kids batch I am doing now, I'm learning so much about how to handle them. Have you been in a room full of over excited 8 year olds? Its an experience. It sounds like you're in the beach on a kaanum pongal day. Trust me. You can't hear your own thoughts. Your throat would ache from all the screaming. There is only one thing that brings them back to some order. Playing their favorite action song. Put on the video and let the song play... They'll dance and sing the entire day. They have no qualms about colouring as many pages as you might want them to colour or recite as many rhymes as you want them to. Make them play ball and before you know it one would hit the other with it. And the things they say to you and amongst themselves... Sometimes I have trouble controlling the urge to lift some of them off the ground and cuddle them away. Nah. Kids are alll lovely!
Monday, April 15, 2013
The Absolutely Mindless And Long Food Rant
Disclaimer: You know where this is going. Do not bother reading if you are planning to show off how health savvy you are while commenting. Its a rant. Keep Calm and Go drink your green tea or something. If you are/were ever a member of these gym things... do us both a favor and block me.
Trickiest damn thing. If it tastes good it's toxic and will give you AIDS. Yes man. AIDS. YOU WILL SPIT BLACK ROTTEN BLOOD EVERY DAY FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE AND DIE OF AIDS IF YOU EAT PANI PURI ONCE IN THREE DAYS. If it is healthy it tastes like card freaking board. If it is mom made it's there everyday. If it is from KFC it costs a fortune. I mean. What were they thinking?! What is easily available, easy to make and greaaaat to eat is abominable. What takes a billion years to clean, steam, cook and serve (and when served resembles cattle feed) is the best thing. Why me? The only pleasure I want in life is to eat good food! (No wait. Food that makes me feel good. No. Food that tastes good.) That's seriously all I want from everyday life! And I have to be put through SO MUCH torture and advice and medical advice? For that? It's not like I'm demanding somebody give me free pass to go rummage all restos and cafes and bakeries and fast food joints for food and eat everything I see to my heart's content. Fast food is the one and the only part of globalisation I want to take home with me. (Don't care about malls, international schools, Johnson and Johnson, unlimited internet and Justin Beaver.)
I like to think of myself as a friend of the animals (I only eat chicken and own nothing in leather) and the environment (Public transport, no private vehicle, reusing ALL my things for a long time: phone, stationery, soap, bags and even clothes - much to the dismay of the mother of mine). But when It comes to food maybe I could be spared? Please? Its the only joy in my life. Its time scientists invented some machine to burn fat. (Seriously guys, no one wants see-through smart phones or pop up toilets in the middle of London)
I am the capitalism-crazy, angry mob. I am the Obese of the world. Did you wonder why I used CAPS LOCK SO MUCH? BECAUSE I CAN AFFORD TO, YOU PUNY IMBECILE! THAT'S HOW HUGE MY FREAKING FINGERS ARE. AND AS I'M LYING ON MY HUGE BED UNABLE TO MOVE AN INCH BECAUSE I'VE JUST HAD MY FILL OF GOOEY GOODNESS THAT IS CALLED NUTELLA, I'M TELLING YOU ONE THING.
" FEAR FLABS. "
In the Obese revolution of 2030... we, the Obese majority will overpower AAALLL you insane health freaks. Death to insane health freaks! Death to dietitians! Death to keerai! Death to mindless starvation of the masses! Death to bulimia! Death to low fat! The End of the regime of healthy food is nearing! WE WILL GET YOUR LIVERS! REMEMBER!
#YOLOSLEEDTWSASDOOASAP.
Don't tell me you are not familiar of this great doctrine of the millennium that is YOLO. We, the Obese Majority however have redefined this. (YOLO was too S. XXL is how we roll, y'all!!)
You Only Live Once So Let's Eat Every Damn Thing We See And So Die Of Obesity As Soon As Possible.
Author's Note: Death to dress sizes S and M and L. Who the HELL wears XS? I'm coming for you. I will find you and I will swallow you ALIVE.
Trickiest damn thing. If it tastes good it's toxic and will give you AIDS. Yes man. AIDS. YOU WILL SPIT BLACK ROTTEN BLOOD EVERY DAY FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE AND DIE OF AIDS IF YOU EAT PANI PURI ONCE IN THREE DAYS. If it is healthy it tastes like card freaking board. If it is mom made it's there everyday. If it is from KFC it costs a fortune. I mean. What were they thinking?! What is easily available, easy to make and greaaaat to eat is abominable. What takes a billion years to clean, steam, cook and serve (and when served resembles cattle feed) is the best thing. Why me? The only pleasure I want in life is to eat good food! (No wait. Food that makes me feel good. No. Food that tastes good.) That's seriously all I want from everyday life! And I have to be put through SO MUCH torture and advice and medical advice? For that? It's not like I'm demanding somebody give me free pass to go rummage all restos and cafes and bakeries and fast food joints for food and eat everything I see to my heart's content. Fast food is the one and the only part of globalisation I want to take home with me. (Don't care about malls, international schools, Johnson and Johnson, unlimited internet and Justin Beaver.)
I like to think of myself as a friend of the animals (I only eat chicken and own nothing in leather) and the environment (Public transport, no private vehicle, reusing ALL my things for a long time: phone, stationery, soap, bags and even clothes - much to the dismay of the mother of mine). But when It comes to food maybe I could be spared? Please? Its the only joy in my life. Its time scientists invented some machine to burn fat. (Seriously guys, no one wants see-through smart phones or pop up toilets in the middle of London)
I am the capitalism-crazy, angry mob. I am the Obese of the world. Did you wonder why I used CAPS LOCK SO MUCH? BECAUSE I CAN AFFORD TO, YOU PUNY IMBECILE! THAT'S HOW HUGE MY FREAKING FINGERS ARE. AND AS I'M LYING ON MY HUGE BED UNABLE TO MOVE AN INCH BECAUSE I'VE JUST HAD MY FILL OF GOOEY GOODNESS THAT IS CALLED NUTELLA, I'M TELLING YOU ONE THING.
" FEAR FLABS. "
In the Obese revolution of 2030... we, the Obese majority will overpower AAALLL you insane health freaks. Death to insane health freaks! Death to dietitians! Death to keerai! Death to mindless starvation of the masses! Death to bulimia! Death to low fat! The End of the regime of healthy food is nearing! WE WILL GET YOUR LIVERS! REMEMBER!
#YOLOSLEEDTWSASDOOASAP.
Don't tell me you are not familiar of this great doctrine of the millennium that is YOLO. We, the Obese Majority however have redefined this. (YOLO was too S. XXL is how we roll, y'all!!)
You Only Live Once So Let's Eat Every Damn Thing We See And So Die Of Obesity As Soon As Possible.
Author's Note: Death to dress sizes S and M and L. Who the HELL wears XS? I'm coming for you. I will find you and I will swallow you ALIVE.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Sur la Plage
Sur la plage…
Mon amour, Ma gloire
Quelle chance de te revoir
Sur la plage
Les années passées
Ne m’empêchent de t’enlacer
Sur la plage
On se parle, on se voit
Nos yeux se tutoient
Sur la plage
Le soir, en parlant, nous passons
Les mouettes, en riant, nous chassons
Sur la plage
« La jeunesse n’est plus le nôtre… », Dis – tu
« mais encore tes souvenirs me rendent émue. »
« Ce sont des beauxgrondins… » Je réponds
« tes yeux si doux et marrons. »
Sans cesse les vagues
Viennent nous raconter des blagues
Sur la plage
Viennent nous raconter des blagues
Sur la plage
Assis à deux, face à face
C’est comme ça que la nuit se passe
Sur la plage
Les navires à l’horizon annoncent l’aube
La nuit veut prendre la couleur de ta robe
Sur la plage
Le silence régnait – notre dialogue a connu sa fin
Pour que tu te lèves je te donne la main
Sur la plage
Après une nuit de rêve
Le soleil se lève
Notre roman s’achève
Sur la plage
Wrote this for a poetry competition conducted at AF. Based on the painting by Manet called "Sur la plage".
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