Deche's memoirs

Of side effects and collateral damages, We’ve all been caught up in these ages, In a moment we want to let go of all we have, In the next we crave for the things we don’t have,  😂 Fixed up fixed them fixed us, Commotions with unwanted fuss, A pain here and an ache there, Expecting me to be where I were  😝 , The music  🎶  blasts loud and clear, Blaring OH NOs! and jarring  😨  fear, A day on town is what one would  😬  dread, Alone in the crowd as I prefer to tread! Open pages of truth lay on my tables, On my iPhone 10 Tabs and many fables,  Yet I drown in foolish innocence, Forgetting my silly ignorance  😝 , Still I sit here and type…  … doused with a million thoughts!  🤪

If you haven’t been at war, You’d have no scar, How many have you got? From all that you’ve fought! I got me a lot of few, That’s how I just grew, The face you see has battled, So don’t look so baffled, The hands wearing swollen joints, Reveal caring daring points, The cracks on my heels, Tells of despaired wheels, Insomnia designed eye bags, Isn’t a sign of weird hags, Every breath sings a tale, Of faraway thoughts and sail, How a stranger so strange, Would help me Rearrange, My deranged perspective, Of being objectively subjective, But we’re good in the end, For by then we all bend, Of lesser units called elements, We are but fragments and figments!!!

I  remember it was a Wednesday. We had just returned from the hospital. My Mom wasn’t too well. We helped her out of the car and carried her to her room. Apparently, we had left her slippers outside the car as we were carrying her. Then you walked in, lifting the curtain, with her slippers in your hand..., ‘Annay gi chappal’ (gramma’s slippers). I still remember how you had slipped the pair of slippers on your little thumb and the four little fingers.  We had forgotten you at the car too. With the slippers. You climbed up the stairs, with the slippers to her room.  For that ‘thank you’! The other day when the men were playing darts, they said you had to be sixteen or older to play the game. I asked you how old you were and you said eleventeen! I could see you were more than eleventeen! You are an old humorous soul. For making me smile even in my angriest moments... thank you! Here’s to many more eleventeen birthdays to come.  I love you.  Always and forever! 💗?...

 When the waiting’s done, And the shouting ceased, When everyone has gone, Even the dearly deceased, When you’ve become me, And I’ve become just you, Will only then we’ll be free, Of wrath, lust, greed or envy!

  https://kuenselonline.com/six-year-old-beaten-by-a-teacher/ To BEat or NOT to beat! Right understanding is perhaps what we need.  This Kuensel article did not surprise me at all. Now that the focus is on the emphasis to bring back discipline and quality education, everyone is “working” on it. The child did not know, that is why she was beaten. If she knew she wouldn’t have to come to school at all.  I know the despair of the teachers when a policy regarding corporal punishment came out. ‘No beating’ or ‘man handling’ any child! Most of us were like ‘now we can’t beat them, so to hell with everything’. We became aggressively defensive. We felt children would never learn without being hit and that it was our birth right to hit! Little did we reflect (as we are trained to) and understand why we mustn’t hit anyone. Nor did we look for alternatives to address issues of discipline or learning. I remember my primary school Principal who wouldn’t tolerate teachers who would hit...

A feeble attempt I have made, To tell the world your humble tale, Many like me won't let you fade, For you gave forever without fail... 🙏🙏🏼🙏🏼