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Wednesday, 16 September 2015

The Difficulty of Being Good

A couple of days ago, my college had taken us for a guest lecture at the English and Foreign Languages University (EFLU). We met the head of the English Literature department and his second in command. The talk was incredibly fascinating as they explained to us how the Modernists were influenced by their environment; how literature attempts to show us the inadequacies of communication; how we might be saying the same thing, but our meanings might be completely different. The professor had a strange manner of speaking, maybe a speech defect of some kind. What shocked me was the way some of the students just made fun of him, imitating and mocking him. It's a disability, he's not doing it on purpose. And yet most of the class seemed to find it funny.
Why is it that we mock those who aren't as lucky as us? How cruel can we be? Mocking people without a limb, with a stutter, with a lisp. Even those who are mentally handicapped. This man, who's probably smarter than the entire room put together, took time out especially for us, and instead of being grateful to him, we mock him? What does that make us? We call ourselves civilised? We call ourselves educated, sophisticated? Really? That's what this behaviour is called? I wonder what savagery is then.
Cruel nicknames, bullying, verbal and physical violence, mulishness, is that a part of a civilised society? I thought it was respect, kindness, compassion, intelligence, level-headedness. It honestly makes me wonder whether we are actually receiving an education. Because education isn't just about the textbooks or the marks you score, it's about shaping you as a good person. If our teachers, our parents can't show us the right way, how else will we learn? How can we expect to treat others with respect, if we don't have role models who set such examples for us? Yelling at a waiter in a restaurant, throwing things at people, resorting to bad language or violence at the drop of a hat, acting as though being smug and narcissistic is very cool, talking down to everyone, saying terrible things about others-this is what the norm seems to be. Anything else is just an exception. My mother has always told me (I have a nasty temper), treat people the way you want to be treated. If you treat everyone badly, don't expect everyone to treat you like you're God's greatest creation. The first step in the right direction is to treat everyone around you with respect. There's no need to be a sycophant, just be your normal self. Its not hard; you just have to imagine what it's like to be at the receiving end of an insult or bullying.

Thursday, 3 September 2015

Why The World Needs Harry Potter

Harry Potter is practically the first series that I became obsessed with after I got over my love affair with Mallory Towers, Famous Five, The Faraway Tree and about a zillion other Enid Blyton and Carolyn Keene (Nancy Drew) novels. I was an unfaithful girl, I know. I still continue to be. Harry Potter was one series that always stayed with me. Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, The Deathy Hallows, magic, where do I even begin? The world that JK Rowling wove with her words, is a world that has stayed with me ever since I read the books. The characters felt real. Hogwarts, to me, isn't just some fictional place. It's my personal brand of heaven (note the Twilight reference-don't get me wrong, I don't like the books. It just seemed to fit!). If Heaven exists, and I've been a good person, that's where I hope to go.
I don't understand people who haven't read Harry Potter. How can you not read something that spawned the dreams and fantasies of children everywhere? The world needs Harry Potter. It isn't just a series of books. Harry Potter taught people to dream, taught people to believe that even in the darkest of times, we can find happiness if we remember to turn on the light, taught people to stand up for what they believe. Harry Potter taught people about the sanctity of friendship. Harry Potter spoke to every kid who had ever been bullied for being the fat one, the short one, the eccentric one or the studious one. Harry Potter made an entire generation realise that every 'mistake', every detour in our lives is just a straight route to what we are meant for. Harry Potter made me believe in fate, in destiny.
The world needs Harry Potter so that we can believe that in this crazy, inexplicably violent and ugly world, all will eventually be well. The world needs Harry Potter for making us believe that heroes exist, and perhaps, to believe that we have the power to make a difference, however small. Finally, the world needs Harry Potter, because it's brilliant writing. You're truly missing out on a generational phenomenon if you haven't read it. Harry Potter changed lives. At least, it changed mine

Wednesday, 2 September 2015

Telling a Story

I've always wanted to write a book. What about, I don't know. I've actually attempted it a couple of times. When I think back upon those stories I wrote, I think that if I had ever attempted and succeeded in getting them published, I'd probably have been sued for plagiarism!
Every show I'd watched, every book I'd read, every song I heard, I put into my attempt at a 'novel'.
Now that I'm older (can't really say wiser), I wonder what I would write about. My mom tells me that I should write. But what would I write about? I'm a girl who's still waiting for life to happen to her. I haven't seen much of the world, literally and figuratively. I haven't done much. What do I know? What can I possibly know that the world would want to read?
Everyone has a novel in them, a story that they can tell; it's just that some take longer than others to find it. There are times I find myself bursting at the seams with things to say and there are days that I draw a complete blank. My unsatisfactory reason for never actually finishing any novel that I ever started, was that I don't have much of a story myself. The only story I could possibly write is about a girl, very much like me, eager to go out into the world, and yet when she gets the opportunity, she backs away in fear.
Repeating myself, everyone has a novel in them, myself included. It's up to us whether we dig deeper to find the story that we were meant to tell. And it's also up to us whether we tell it to the world.