Long Chapter- Beginnings.

There are times when you are just in awe about how things seem to work out.
You find that firefly in the night sky.
You follow it- fleeting, flitting  bright spark.
That turns out to be a silver star, burning brightly in a your own personal constellation-
So much Hope in the dark.

Somebody told me you must not express too soon. You don't put words to your thoughts. Only morons do it. Or people who don't mean it. What do I do with this excess emotion then? Where do I keep it? Thank God for my blog.

Love.
It's making me giddy, dizzy.
I get goosebumps when I hear a love song these days.
I hum along to La Vie En Rose.
I croon like Louis Armstrong.

Who'd have thought something I was doing out of need could turn into something I could want so bad?
This must be a spark well-kindled, but it must be fed.
Fed with silence and effort and patience.

It takes Time to write a long chapter.
And I couldn't think of anything better to do right now.

How long does it last?
If it's done right?
A lifetime.

Oh Night!

Bring me back the pale blue moonlight, that softly slid under my barred wooden window that one night I declared I would never love again.
But oh!
Such promises are made in vain.
For when the star-speckled, silver sky clears after January rain and beckons you to lose yourself in its all-encompassing midnight brilliance-
You chuckle inwardly, chastising yourself-

Oh what a fool I have been!
I am Woman and I cannot but choose to love!
But tonight, for the first time, before I love the wanton sky or the burning stars or even him-
I will first love Myself.

An Idea.

English in India – The language of the cursed?

As a lover of English, I could never have imagined a day when I would actually question my education as well as career. Yet such a day has sadly arrived. No matter how learned or intellectual we may think we are in India, from a global point of view, there is a widening gap between the native or non-native speaker of English.
This does not always work out in favour of a non-native speaker. For example, there have been numerous times when teachers of English in India have faced a dead end while being hired abroad or outside India. The South Asian countries are the worst- with China and Korea being very vocal about wanting white teachers or ‘native’ language users.
I want to understand why ‘native’ language users are considered ‘better’ language users as well as teachers. Is there a scientific reason for it, something stemming from Language Acquisition laws, or is it simply based on an underlying racism that we are speaking a borrowed language?
Finally, I want to reflect on the reverse racism faced by English speakers in India- are they mocked as ‘babus’ or are they actually in a beneficial position with respect to non-fluent speakers of the language?

if we talk about Teaching and Education as a qualitative experience, then how does a native speaker of English provide her learners  with benefits solely based on her country of origin?

If anyone has any points to share or some advice – be it books or research resources, please share it in the comments section, or e-mail me at alisha.nangia@gmail.com

KicK-Start Life!

I had dis-continued writing in my blog after the whole 'Love is a Playlist' fiasco. I just got my heart broken, my start-up idea crushed, and I was feeling over-all quite miserable.
Once Summer vacations were over, it was back to work for me. Now don't judge me- I love the kids, but the paycheck and lack of intellectual stimulation was really getting to me. Not to add, an almost love triangle at the work place, and menopausal women making my life hell, I was ready to throw in the towel.

But then something unexpected happened.

I moved out.

Yes, I left home, under really strained circumstances, and now I really needed the cash, (Low paycheck is better than no paycheck). But now, after settling down a bit and stabilising myself, I'm not ashamed of where I am. Yet, I feel there is so much for me to do. I feel wasted in a small school, under-paid and over-worked. I know I'd feel better if I was doing something that I loved- I like writing, traveling and teaching kids, and i'm searching for something that can combine it all for me.
I know there is no such thing as a dream job, but I want to feel happier.
Currently, I'm a little restless.

Lets get ready for great things.

Stuff.

It's like walking across a busy street and miraculously avoiding the traffic. Taking a step forward, and then back... doing a fatal dance, a final jig- because on the other side -oblivious to you, is
 He.
And you must get to him.
Or die trying.
But the funny thing is that you feel so serene, so calm, it's like you were born to cross dangerous roads.
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Your name has this familiar twang to it in my head.
It's this sharp pitch that smells peachy to me. The smell of almost-Summer.
Suddenly, my chest feels walled in.
And my heart is now a glazed block of grey stone
with ivy memories, entwining dryness.
Green spots of colour, leafy streamers of everything I remembered
and did not.
I say, "I am stoned." And God, I have never been so right before.
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Today, I found a paper cup
and tore it up
So it wouldn't have to be empty anymore.
The world must be cruel place
 because I'm still whole.
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