The Importance of Innovation in Student-Centric Learning

In today’s era when we see the students glued to just marks secured, and no general intelligence; it becomes a pathetic sight. Just memorizing the subject content and puking out in the examination is making the mind dull as ever. Today, when it’s the rocket science age, our young nation blocks need to be strong in their foundation and their thoughts as well.

It’s we, ‘The Teachers’, who can make efforts to inspire students to come forward and forge upon creative thought into making it come real. Surrealism and symbols that develop inside the hypothalamus needs to be churned by effective motivation to let the spark of creativity embark on the journey of experimenting. It leads to not just innovation, but makes one confident, able to distinguish the right and wrong, able to realize from mistakes and improvise further, makes one judgmental and critical about what one does and learn.

Life without innovation is as boring as eating the same food everyday!

Without being visionary, and organized; one may lack the power of innovativeness.

It’s important that children learn something new right from young age when their minds can adjust to the latest and advanced changes in their environment. Innovation in student centric learning makes the bringing up of the child easy and equip to modern needs.

If the children are exposed to new technologies in education, gaming, and other modes of learning; it would lead to a healthy overall development of a child, which won’t let him down in the future. In fact, when the child knows, he can be a young illuminated teacher back home to his folks.

Innovation nurtures the body, soul and mind altogether. It works as a staple for the body, a relaxed element for the soul, and an achievement for the mind. The advent of ‘Educomp’, smart class programs enables our children to be acknowledged with the technology right from the school level. The learning kids’ laptops enable them to learn certain things with fun and curiosity. This eases and relaxes the burdened backs carrying heavy bags. Books and study should be friends and not something, “Oh! I have to do my homework, or I have to learn, what I hate to.” Learning and study embedded with fun and innovativeness adds zeal to learning process in a child for a better future, which will not churn out cramming parrots, but well learnt pragmatic and refined humans.

Random web of thoughts…

Hugging the shore of life,

Unsure if I am sure of its design.

Irony touches every upcoming delight.

Monotony and unsaid words remain in the core.

The hook of emotions is tickling down the spine.

Nebular thought process clouds the positiveness.

Yet a sprinkle of being a princess thaws the low down spirit.

The melody of life has lost its glory.

Tides of grace and smile were once a boon.

A state of satiation has crossed my taste for life.

Today, the shroud of misty wait keeps in limbo.

Caged in those moments, I am a slave of time.

Groggy for the improbable future, caught in amidst.

Eject this soul out in the galaxy of trance.

Grant me liberation, O divine Lord!

Chicken or Cheese pleazzz!

In my wonder years of growing up, I use to think why people ask to say cheese while getting a photo click. Today, I feel we can simply flatten our lips and say, ‘EEEEEE’, instead of the typical all time trite say cheese! ;-)

 

But hey, I am not muttering about the photo clicking style, instead my mind is swimming and making leaps in the so called real Cheese and Chicken… (Umm mm watering huh?)

I feel my pen takes the driving seat always and my tongue, the back seat. My eyes and mind are the ones who shotgun my pen.

Whenever I go to our The-Big-Fat-Indian-Weddings, I observe people flocking towards the non-vegetarian corner for those thunder thighs and twin assets of chicken, mutton and the soft belly of fish. Then comes the turn of our go-green vegetarians!

These souls run after the dishes that include the so called panir.

Yes, yes…if the red dots (non-vegetarians) can run after the animals’ soft flesh, then why can’t the green dots (vegetarians) run after the after-all soft, creamy, flesh made out of curd?

That’s the style not just in our country, but across the globe also. Be it the cottage cheese, processed cheese or any other class of the existing diversity; it’s the taste of tongue all across the map (staving off those who have lacto allergies).

So, I came across an aunty (I still don’t know why such incidents happen with me!) who accompanied me to a lavish, gala wedding. Now, this lady, a chronic chicken digger whose teeth can’t stop biting the fleshy leg piece has to savor a tough time finding one.

All decked up and exchanging greetings with me, she pulled me to butt into the eating area. Giving no second thought, my grubby paunch nimbly sauntered along.

Aunty (gently) to the waiter – What do you have in non-veg, I can’t see any counter?

Waiter (softly and smiling) – Madam, this is a pure vegetarian wedding.

Aunty (all shocked, and to me) – These people are themselves non-vegetarian, but then why the wedding so dull without non-veg food?

Me (cool and calm) – May be a tradition. No violence on wedding day!

Aunty (lamenting) – Now, I am not much hungry et all.

Me (again cool and calm, this time smiling) – Let’s see the vegetarian variety.

Aunty (carking) – Ya, let’s see if something worth to eat.

Me (as usual cool) – O wow! They have motley of culinary skills displayed!

Aunty (to the waiter in a vexed tone) – Give me this Chili panir and honey panir.

Enjoying my treat of panir variety, I was quite an observant as usual, forcing my tunnels of thinking side to tell me that people are so chicken crazy that they can’t enjoy a vegetarian variety. They want to savor their tastes to such an extent that they forget the sour expressions springing up on their face. At the end, when she heard that I am a go green type, she exclaimed she likes eating cottage cheese! It’s just that she was pretending for chicken.

But I still feel the Indian mentality is such that they either want chicken, if a flesh eater, throwing away bones; and panir eater, if a flesh eater of sour milk.

People don’t feel like trying other things apart. It happens to be a dicey affair for their taste buds often, and getting no choice, they compromise in a pathetic state of mind.

Even I relish eating panir, but I always love to go beyond as I am not a foodie as such.

The sensuous enjoyment of food has to be healthy and adaptable. Only then, a person can get a sober food for mind, soul and of course paunch!

After done with eating, I took the aunty to the stage to bless the newly weds and get a photo clicked, where I made her to at least at that time say, “Cheese”!

She’s a Lady...

The first line of my poem is indeed inspired by the song I heard by U2, and of course from one of my favorite Indian writing in English cum magic realism novelist who changed the scene of Indian diaspora,
Salman Rushdie.

The ground beneath her feet,
Is nothing, but a land of deeds.
I kowtow to her child like grace,
And the courage which makes her stand tall.
The angel of love and beauty,
Only a destined can be blessed with.
A treasure of endless care,
Flowing from her bosom,
With whom moments glow bright,
Whose warmth is warmer than the sunlight.
Her faithfulness is like a timeless prayer,
Who is a fairy on Earth with her gentle ways.
She can be a bitch, a vixen, a creep;
But when handled with love, truth and care;
She is the most wonderful creature created by God!

TWITTER TWEEPLE!

Twitter Twitter what you are?
At times I wonder, what would be my life without you!
Twitter Twitter, a microblog you are,
Yet so spacious where I throw my minds’ trash,
Sweet and sour where I can type a one liner so fast,
A cute space I share with you,
Seems like an android always in my hand.
Twitter Twitter, you rock in the techno world.
You made me, a twitter freak.
No Orkut, No Facebook anymore, just twitter to hook.

Late Night T.V.
I threw my fatigued body on the bed, and after a while my hands fished for the TV remote. It was pretty late at night (late for a drowsy me, though it was just 10.30), thinking the next day is Sunday, means funday, lazyday... so, i held the remote and put on my favorite Good Times. Found a repeated show, I switched to Travel&Living; seeing the boulevards of Macau, I missed my days there.
Half yawning, after refreshing the memories, I again switched to Good Times. Now, it was KC (Kingfisher Calendar make). I like watching such shows, as it keeps reminding me I got to stay fit too! So, I was watching the scantily clad participants walk down the ramp built around the swimming pool. The panel of judges included Shobha De, Atul Kasbekar, Madhavan. I was amazed to listen to the hordes of questions being asked. Something that was a starter: what do you think how are you looking, how is so-and-so contestant looking, do you think this contestant will win, why are your hips bulging out, what opinion do you have about your waist and blah blah the rest…

Darn it! Was it the way, I monologue. The models were from South Africa, Australia, Delhi, Bombay, Bangalore, Jalandhar and many other places. The girls were to move in swanky steps, and the one who was voted out was asked to pack her bags. The one’s who lost wept copiously (though they displayed oodles of charming confidence in front of the judges), and wheeled their bags out of the Zuri Resort, Goa and left in a car.

Then was the next round when these babes were asked for their photo shoot on the bed. With all sexy moves captured on the camera, they managed that round well. But it was a sheer painful sight that to attract fame and money, models go through such a rigid process of selection. I don’t know, it might not matter to them as they prepare themselves for such a treatment, but I have a question on mind, is this the way to sell or may be expose body and beauty? Though, India is a land of KamaSutra, this platform of showing off one’s boobs and butts is an open public humiliation, when the models are to represent themselves in such a voyeuristic style.

**** KC (2K11) Hunt is on till 20th August, 2K10. Anyone interested can surely apply following the T&C. So, if you are hot, they are hunting!


**** I have a habit of zapping channels, if am not liking something at a particular channel. So, I switched on to another favorite VH1, where it was a boring show. Then I jumped to FTV, where I found boring models walking on the ramp with wafer waist, as if they were patients of anemia and insomnia; and would stagger to a fall, anytime!
I changed to AXN, which for a while injected a doze of smile on my lips. This channel had metamorphosed into a shopping channel, whereby I was urged to see how to get flat abs in just 15 days. Now, I was hooked here with a smile, and laughed to nothing, but the nasal tones they utter, Hindi dubbed lip syncs, already ultra thin foreign models. I don’t know if their products get sold, I don’t know if the products are effective, I also don’t know if such long documentary film advertisements attract people in spending half the time guessing the product price; all I knew was that I was now dying to hibernate in dreams!

Such a F***** up System!

The new definition of Men-in-Uniform today is those who hide under the veil of bribe!

*******
Respected Sir/ Madam,

I am XYZ, a common man who in your terms is AAM AADMI, and here I am writing an e-mail to you to bring a grave matter under your concern being the highest heads of the country.
The matter is about the breach of security of a common man like me, as well as national security of the country.

*******
That was a shard of an email, my friend has sent across the screens of our P.M. and President.
A friend of mine is getting repeated calls from our neighboring country Pakistan
from past few days.
A man named Rafiq tries to be amicable and asks him for the subscriber phone numbers of DISH TV for which he wants him to be involved in a scam and make some good money.
He reported the concerned matter to the safeguards of the nation- Police, then even the news channels like IBN News, Aaj Tak News, India TV, Airtel customer care (as he a subscriber of this service provider), but all in vain. The power-and-position attitude they gave was worth stabbing or strangulating them.

I guess, because of the sluggish system of not taking the words seriously, India still suffers from the terror marks it gets repeatedly. The attacks in Mumbai are an instance to God-knows-what-the-government-is-doing. Movies like ‘A Wednesday’ may not turn out to be the real rage stuff Everyday.

People in the highest authority today are just good for taking bribes. They are the biggest terrorists today by not paying heed to be an ear to the society.

They are fake oath takers who themselves don’t bind to the Constitutional norms. Such a hypocrite standard of ‘Men in Uniform’ we have today.

All I want is that this matter shouldn’t be cooped up in files, but should be looked into. Being a responsible and concerned citizen of India, and enjoying the Right to freedom of speech and expression, I am raising my voice. I want to know, how safe a common man is.

Born Beautiful

Tender touch, delicate hands;
Innocent and caring, cute and lovable;
Blessed to share the pain with a nerve of élan,
Naughty and sporty, they giggle and hide,
Easily shed a tear, hide in the pouch of arms.
They make castles of sand, calling it their doll house,
And relations, later called sweet homes.
The little dolls that hug no matter anywhere,
Wait for the dinner just to greet goodnight wish,
Learn to love, and say only a word of prayer.
Their gentle body, tiny togs;
Dainty feet that try the bigger sandals,
Teach everyone the first lesson they learn in school,
Grow up to decent and sensitive dames,
Just to be loved, for that’s the only gift for them,
Mush and understanding is what they demand,
Patient listening and empathy is what they give in return,
They give a lot, but little deeds are just a part.
For they are born beautiful,
An unchained life, they do deserve.
Preservers of culture and customs, family and relations;
It’s the art they command.
Beauty flows as these little dolls are a bliss itself.

The Last Look

Deep eyes with feelings so pure,
Unsaid words, which asked to stay more,
The day when we had to part,
A hearty day spent together,
Almost came to the shore of twilight,
Never thought it would end like this,
But may be it was predestined.
My life changed for something unplanned,
That fragrance still reminds me of the sweet days.
Those words make me smile even today.
I am not silent or that I never understood,
It’s meant it this way; I even don’t believe this passing thought.
Though, it’s just flowing with every brand-new day,
I do remember the moment when I said, ‘Goodbye.’

Closed Doors…

Take me to the silent shores,
Stab me in the deepest core,
Who I am, am still not sure.

The doll in her shrinks to the worldly chores.
She grows to be selfless to keep their status clean and strong
(She has to broom and mop the stay-tus?) in the society.
She adapts to the culture she cannot cope up with.
She embraces pain for their happiness.
She speaks, but the criticism makes her silent.
It’s her patient that keeps her going. Dying inside, she prays to liberate the caged soul. Identity crisis, fighting for the rights becomes her destiny as it was injected in her genes.
Prone to abusive environment, she hates the HE. The feelings of disgust, wrath and rage, revenge; strain and wrench her smiles. The kid in her that once smiled moisturizes her lips with tears. She is emotionally raped and socially rotten.
She monologues,
” Tears are stress busters. It helps to relax the mind, soul and senses."
Fear dominates her, religious views pinch hard, happiness is ephemeral, peace is an alien thought, and multitude of restrictions are infused, that together make her phobic to live chained life.

Life is like that, salty, sweet, bitter and bland! Fighting this harshness is romance; the injection of pain gives pleasure in the bloodstream. That’s how she survives the struggle for existence.

She is forbidden to fall in love, but when Adam and Eve couldn’t resist, how can she be a superhuman…? The God of love exists in the Roman mythologies, the Hindu God of love, and even Lord Buddha was accused of a relationship. Not to forget Radha and Krishna who are worshipped even when Krishna was married to someone else…
Then how can this woman not have a heart, emotions and feelings that need a security of the so called soul mate, her man? She needs that one gentle relation which can be equivalent to so many, the one on whom she can rely upon at any hour or minute of her life. Is falling in love, a sin she commits?
Yes, she does. The people cannot see her with a man of her choice, the society spatters on her ill names, the family threatens to kill her and her love, and the religion she is born with will not be promoted if she marries the man of another community and religion.
O Poor Destiny! The karmas are paying her or the parental force harming her?

She monologues this time too.
“Lost in his thoughts, I have ruined my life.
Today, I am a rotten thought, not worth being a wife.
The fragrance that was my pride is no more even a desire.
Dream to be his bride is buried deep inside.”

Her own kins bury her to the failure of her vitals forever in silence, covering her with the shroud of their own ego, and pride. They win a battle, go scot free as the law is bribed, weak, and inert.

“The doors were closed for her, and now the doors of her voice too”
And,
“A life is only lost, so what? The status in the so called crummy society is not.”

That’s the woman we have even in the existing era. I am not being feminist, but the swelling “Honour Killings” in the regions like Punjab, Haryana, U.P. and Rajasthan are the root cause of so many evils that need to be washed away from the society. Not just these regions, there might be many more, am not fully aware of; we need to spread a message of communal harmony, fraternity, freedom and giving the womanhood her own space to grow for a better tomorrow for that wholly and only depends on a nourished growth of a woman first.

“Let the doors be open for her to grow like a beautiful tree for a healthy harvest.”

Politics, Passion, Pain…

‘Paa’, the word that touched me; the word that tickles the soul of every Paa Paa…

It was a long time pending movie after Slumdog Millionaire and Fashion that I saw as my last Bollywood stuff. Being passionate about such offbeat flicks, I finally got time to watch it in the comfort of my home.

Politics, as I regard it not bad because it’s actually not, but made to be a dirty game, I found the theme of the movie really impressive.
Not just Progeria, but connecting multifold events like spirit of an unmarried mother, the mother of unmarried mother supporting her daughter, the genetically affected child who is not only gifted with creativity, but the power to understand his mother, nonetheless, his father too.

The movie padded my neurons with numerous thoughtful vibrations making a resonance in my heart and soul.

Abhishek’s exposing and accepting the blunder committed by him, going through the pain more than what he had given to his beloved is worth stirring the salty fluid in the eyes.

Though, I wonder that had Vidya not been a working person, what would have been the repercussions. But, why to think the part that wasn’t in the movie?

In the nutshell, though it was reel affect, but such circumstances prepare to combat in real. The movie deals with five subjects, all politicians are not bad; there is a dire need of intelligent, well educated and humane people to run the administration of the country through the medium of politics. A well qualified, educated woman is not a weakling, she can take care of her child if she so wishes to raise him/her alone. Parents who can understand the emotional phase of their kids life can give them a strong platform. Anybody can commit a blunder, and a pragmatic approach to puzzle out the problem always helps to bring broken relations more close.

The protagonist ‘Aura’ has given a new outlook to the growing vision of India.
By screening such a moving flick, giving a wide acceptance and recognition to the genetic disease, ‘PROGERIA’, and changing the mental level of many such in our country and may be surroundings who ouster away the “Exceptionals” to accept them like other beings and hurl them with abuses and snide remarks without understanding them.

Hats off to the makers of PAA for giving the world, such a worth praise movie.
We really need people to buoy up the upbringing and upliftment of the mental, moral, intellectual, social, emotional, aesthetic status of those who are deviated from the normal or average people.

Space for Exceptionals will knead the gaps for a better definition of the Civilized Society.

ROMANCE...Odetoromance!
Romance is the word,
I am often asked about.
Is my blog an ode to romance,
Or an instance of something else?
Am I in love, or out of love?
Not in vain I leave my readers,
For romance is not only the love between lovers.
Romance for me is imagination,
It is a word so serene,
You need no sedation.
It’s describing an adventure,
It’s embellishing my thoughts,
It’s a kiss on my mother’s cheek,
It’s holding a crying baby in my arms,
It’s hugging my father,
It’s helping my juniors,
It’s caring my elders,
It’s sharing someone’s pain,
It’s when I got my first job,
It’s when I entered the professional college,
It’s when I miss my loved ones,
It’s when I help the needy,
It’s when I stand for myself,
It’s when I breathe beautiful nature,
It’s when I take a sigh of relief,
It’s when I vent out my words on a piece of paper,
It’s when I see smiling lips,
It’s when I inspire dusky faces,
It’s when I treasure the memories,
It’s when I burn the calories,
It’s when I am a concerned citizen,
It’s when I believe in humanity,
It’s when I listen to soft rock,
It’s when I click pictures,
It’s when I am alone in my shell,
It’s when I ROMANCE with my WORDS,
It’s when I am just i_me_myself…

A day it was…

From cradle to grave, a man learns to walk alone. Life is a teacher in its way, applies to all.
Education is not just provided by schools, but a system of informal education is received through one’s environment- the society one breeds in. Life is that form of pedagogy that not only teaches one to be pragmatic in approach, but social and street smart too.

Though, there are props of mass media as non-formal education, some prefer to still carry out learning through others experiences. As said by Matthew Arnold-
“The best that has been thought and known is culture.”

When we see the same people everyday, we wind up becoming a part of that person’s life; we get experiences, we learn the art of knowledge and wisdom.
By all this I am not against the formal education, but life offers so much that one should consider the broad offerings too.

Knowledge is bookish, and through experiences wisdom is a humble offering when knowledge is saturated to call one wise. Life has made me taste a potpourri of flavors that I call myself not just literate, but a qualified person who’s well educated too.
The abstract nouns like pain, anger, hatred, jealousy, laughter, contentment are so familiar to me that at times I feel like writing volumes on these words. Life is a strange commitment when I call it a farce at times, then pacify myself that one has to live to love or love to live, as the shores of the life are dazzling enough for me even after clearing the mist on my frame, even my eyelids!

That was the year 2009…

Every time when December approaches, I tell myself, the year passed away too fast.
This is not a new sentence that strikes my thoughts and lips. Though, it has become a trite expression, yet it has an old-wine-like charm. Hmmm, I sit in my favorite corner and ponder and wonder (Whatta rhyme!) all the good-and-bad i went through, things that I learnt and my journey so far that I am on the brink of bidding it
(aw aw, the year 09) adieu. Nexus between emotionalism and materialism gave so much of a lesson to stand sturdy for the next phase.

***

A motley of emotions, flickering moods, volatile behavior defined the so called i_me_myself. Out of the blues, travel, shopping, food and fun on the cards was soul stirring. An active, busy life gave and took a lot. Projects and assignments taught a lesson worth forget-me-not. Mind boggling matters took a toll, yet I fought my battle with pacific resistance. Stood unwavering like the Statue of Liberty, be it work or home.


***

Life-is-like-that, I say it to all. It’s my life and I am contented to the whole. Birthdays and anniversaries, I did not forget at all. Educational accomplishments I handled from the core, certain efforts I achieved were marked off from the things-to-do list kept in my drawer. Orkut and Facebook are not any more.
(Ummm, didn’t it too rhyme from start-to-end?!)


***

All in all, had a year, if not-so-good, not-so-bad either. November and December, the months that cast their impressions, left me in an unprecedented depression.
From cradle to grave, we learn to walk alone, so have I to tame my way.
Life is a cup of joys and sorrows, the teacher called experience teaches to deal even the nasty chores.


After a hard day, I take a respite.
Worn out by my weary life, a cuppa makes me light.
Sitting by the window, sipping and looking outside at the azure sky,
With a smile on my lips, and a shine of memories in my eyes, I say,
“Good Bye 2009.”

Those were the best days of my life…

I often question myself why do we call our growing days (in school and college), the best days of our life.
Childhood is that phase of consciousness when the impressions cast on ones mind remain forever whose ink has no eraser.

Brushing the dust off these pictures, I was lost in the memory lanes of the wonder years when I first joined the play-way or the kindergarten. I don’t remember so much about my childhood, but I do have a hazy picture on my mind. Recalling those days, I first learned riding a yellow color tricycle. The teacher use to make us learn alphabets by showing particular flash cards through a rote method. The fancy dress competitions, ice-cream dripping on the clothes, chocolate smeared on the faces, mom wiping and teaching how to eat were a part of those cute days.

I can recall when I use to cry out loud audible even to the neighbors while going to the school. The teacher in the class use to make us teach in a similar fashion as in the
kindergarten, with only difference now was we had three note-books in the bag, a pencil-box with pencils, eraser, sharpener and color pencils too apart from a lunch-box and water bottle. It was a friend’s birthday when we were taught to clap, sing and wish that person. Sweets were distributed always which use to make everyone smile. I use to ask about my birthday date too from mama. When one day it finally came, dressed in all red, I too cheerily distributed sweets in the class when all wished me the same way as we were taught.

Primary school to middle and then high school, I made friends whose friendship I still treasure. Also, slowly that charm was sapping up to the burden of books and running the rat’s race like Tom and Jerry was a part and parcel; a race made to run by the teacher to study hard to score well, where teacher was the Tom and student, Jerry.

The best days of education which made a child, a young intelligent out of everyone, was ready to enter the college as that mature individual whose decision making powers were by now greased to flash the leadership qualities and stand for oneself. College was like a party everyday, no dress code, but one’s own choice of robes. Jeans and tees were a part of my funky clothing. Going Dutch at the canteen, bunking class, ragging the new comers, cajoling teachers not to take the lectures were the moments of fun and frolic.
This phase is the one without any stress or strain. It’s just a hedonistic lifestyle that one really passes by before embracing the real responsibilities that also kisses all.
Finally, when the college was passed out, it was the most painful day bidding adieu to friends and teachers to further travel on the path meant to be later in life.

So sugar-sweet are these recollections that a retrograde on it wet my eyes and make my lips wide too. Now, I answered my own quest, those days were the best days of my life.