a terrible painter, a dreamer, a rebel , a feminist and a self certified bisexual Witch. Who is always trying to visualize whats on the other side of the canvas she paints,just another human- Living alive Life. Now also a green tea addict.

Saturday, 23 March 2013

Print A Smile

On 14th of this month one of my wildest dream came true, yet I didn't feel happy the way I should. The dream was to have my photograph appear in newspaper. This twist of fate happened in an Assamese Daily but I failed to get the thrill when I bought my copy.

On 10th March, late morning my door bell rang, there was this romantic junior of mine. He came without a warning and very next moment we were in my room downstairs. I knew he was approached by our Philosophy Professor to write out something for the Assamese daily. He had to write it out with five other people from Pink College. So this was a Pink College project and I wanted to stay away. But junior Poet is a boy of enthusiasm and madness. So unwillingly I became handcuffed to this young man's madness. So our whole afternoon was spent writing and dialing the number of the confused Sub-editor. With every moment passing we realised that the topic was unclear and really out of our reach. First we were given a story in place of topic, she kept narrating and our mind went twisting. Finally we changed the topic to "Internet and Human Relations". Now the young man found another way to trap me, I won the extempore speech competition with Internet as my topic. The article was going from the Pink College, we needed six people's face to print with six different points. So our junior poet was there, he dragged me in, I dragged my walking mate in simultaneously three others were dragged by the young poet. 

We were given a deadline till 10 am next morning, so we had no time to run to four different houses to collect opinion. The easy way tempted us, my walking mate messaged me a point for the topic. Young poet came up with two and I came up with three. The whole writing trouble fell on baby poet. For him writing is not a tough job, give him a quill he will cast spells upon you. Right that moment he was elaborating six points. I gave my ideas, he translated it to Assamese. He was writing and I was jumping around creating virtual pressure on him. At that moment I felt like those Shojo Manga characters -the editor shouting at her subordinates. When he was penning down I decided to edit and choose the photos that were to go for print. I was protesting at times that it was the young poets work and not ours. Just giving points doesn't  make us equal, but my cries were unheard. We were done writing, next we needed to scan it, I don't have one so, the professor who is our tenant tried to help us. But the scanned product was not a good product. So the professor helped us and scanned it from the cyber cafe. We should thank him, for him we were right on time. So we emailed the articles and photographs to the confused Sub-editor.

As twist of fate had it, the piece got published on Thursday. My walking mate and me got threats from the young poet. He made it clear if we did not buy the newspaper and uttered about the cover up writing he would kill us. He was happy as his photograph came, so were we after all we were in the second page and a special edition of a daily. Six shining faces in color still we could not cheer up and put credits to the young poet. Neither my walking mate was super excited nor was I.The terrible feeling was more in me as I had no proper grip over the Assamese Language. Here I was happily claiming my share on his hard work. It was cruel of us to claim our share from ones hard work. But young poet did not care, I doubt will he ever care. Well my Mom knew I was not the happiest of myself, she still became happy as I contributed something, she just needs a reason to love me more. My grandmother, sister and brother-in-law don't care what I contributed, all they cared was I was on paper and that made them smile for next three days. The irony stays, we produced the piece behalf of Pink College, but that newspaper doesn't grace our library nor did any one ever knew that our college got published in the special youth section. If anyone asks me why I still dislike Pink College, the answer is simple, the college doesn't know what deeds happen outside its boundaries. 

I feel I sound moralistic, idealistic, pessimistic creature, but that young man deserves all the credit and I fear the worse that he will remain unsung and unknown hero till his graduation. Pink College had good many journalist, photographer, high ranking bureaucrats, social workers, good lawyers walking its ground, but no one knows about them. 

Off course I am proud that I could help him but this inkling is to stay, we could not say it to everyone. All works small or big belongs to the person who do it, sometimes its hard to put a name on others work. 

P.S- wish I could do my part better and contribute to the fullest. And Bootly Booted thats Witch's Obsession is updated with new shoes.  

thanking you to bear with me

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