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Author: shish_admin
Star Spangled Samosa: the Story of How an American Boy goes Indian (Part 2)
By Anshay Saboo, Class VII A
(Part 2)
Time flew by until the first day of school in India. Two things about schools here. First, we have an extremely strict school uniforms. Apart from uniform pants and shirt, we have uniform socks, shoes, and backpacks. Second, we have no cubbies. We have to bring all of our books and notebooks to school every day! It was terrible! [Stop laughing Dan. It’s worse than it sounds].
Fifth grade here was not what I had expected. If I were back in the US I would be studying about vacuoles and xylems, whatever those are. [Okay, Dan; A part of a cell and a tube used to transport water; thanks for the science lesson; why don’t we do History next?]. When I came here the first thing we studied was the life cycle of a plant and the parts of a seed. I think I remember doing that lesson in first grade.
So anyway, when I first walked into the school, my first thought was – look at the size of this school. Including the building and grass fields, this school was easily four times as big as my school back home. When I first came here, I was going into the fifth grade. The second I walked into my classroom, thirty-five kids swarmed around me, welcoming me and peppering (more like bombarding) me with questions. My teachers were all really nice to me, although Indian class [FINE Dan; HINDI Class; Gosh, I don’t think I’m going to survive this] was kind of a roadblock.
For the first few periods, I was as curious as… [Come on Dan, help me! What’s curious? Uh… Oh! Wait – I got it! I was as curious as George! Haven’t you seen Curious George? Wow, Dan. Sometimes I think that you’ve never experienced being a kid]. I was as curious as George about what was going on in the class. But then I started getting the hang of Hindi [See, Dan. I can learn!] and was able to participate in the classes.
As it turns out, I’m not alone. Around halfway through the fifth grade I met Ayush Baweja, another kid who came from the United States of America. He was actually an Easterner [NEW YORK! Jeez, Dan; Don’t you know slang?] and had this STUPID idea that Westerners [Yes, Dan; like me] always say ‘howdy.’ Apparently he thinks of us like cowboys (The Wild, Wild, West? Get it?)
It was hardest to adapt to the food. For lunch at school in the US of A, we could choose between a variety of juices, sandwiches, salads, and snacks including pizza and pasta and burgers and hot dogs and macaroni for our lunch. Here, all we get is rice and dal [Don’t look at me like that, Dan. It means lentils] and roti and sabji [That means Indian bread with cooked vegetables]. The only choice we have is to either eat it or eat it [I’m serious, Dan. We don’t even get an option to beat it. Get it? Man, you have no sense of humor.].
Somehow, I made it through the fifth grade and passed my exams with flying colors [I’ll show you my report card, Dan. Then you can laugh at my A+’s]. Now I was onto the sixth grade. I was in middle school.
In the senior wing, we could play on the field after lunch and play inside during short break. In short, we had more freedom. We started getting these new handouts called E2sheets [It stands for ‘exhaustive exercises’, Dan.] There is one E2 for every chapter we do in almost all subjects. The basic rule is that after we finish the chapter in school, we get the E2 and a deadline for which we have to submit the notebook.
And then there’s the third language option. We have to choose to study French or Sanskrit as part of our grade. I guess you can figure out what I chose. [Wow, Dan! You figured it out! There’s a big chance that a person who barely knows Hindi will choose Sanskrit! Sometimes I regret hiring you, Dan.] French actually was very fun. Our teacher was really nice and I already had a head start from French tutoring in the States [YES, I mean the United States, Dan. How much did you get in Geography?].
Day by day, I battled my way through the sixth grade and eventually won the war. Seventh grade, here comes the American.
Seventh grade was around 90% like the sixth grade (No need for in-depth descriptions here). The only differences were the teachers and lessons we studied. Also, I was dealing with a whole new batch of classmates. Until now, my class had the same children in it. Now over half of my former classmates were switched out and new ones were brought in.
Now I’m around halfway through the seventh grade. There’s not much more to record now, so I’m stopping this recording. But I guarantee you; this story is FAR from done.
Star Spangled Samosa: the Story of How an American Boy goes Indian (Part 1)
By Anshay Saboo, Class VII A
[Part 1]
Letter from the Author –
Dear Reader
This is the recorded story of Anshay Saboo, transcribed onto paper for you to read. I, the agent, have included all of his recorded comments in this copy. I have used [ ] to mark these comments. But be careful, text in () parenthesis are actually part of the recording – they are not comments. I have also written ‘– reply – ‘to show the time when I am responding to him or pointing out mistakes. I have not included what I was saying to him, for my own sake. There may be many spelling and grammar errors as this is coming from a child. Please do not mind these. I have already corrected the major mistakes.
This is extremely classified and making this copy available to you has been an extreme risk. My client would go nuts if he found out that this was being sent to someone. Please go through it with care. He will surprise you.
Best,
Dan Real
———————————————————————————
I don’t think it’s possible to be extremely depressed on the last day of school. Well, apparently I was wrong. As I sat in the backseat of a Super Shuttle, I tried to soak in the last sights of the place I had called home for ten years. I was depressed because we were moving halfway across the world for no apparent reason [Okay, Dan; Maybe it had something to do with business and family]. To make a long story short, we were moving from the US of A to the I-N-D-I-A – from Uncle Sam to Mahatma Gandhi – from America to India.
The news was a bolt from the blue. One day I was walking home from Alderwood Basics Plus School with my buddies, and when I got home, I found out about how we were supposedly moving to Indore, India from Irvine, California. I had the biggest shock a ten-year-old kid could ever have. I had a heart attack and had to be carried off to the hospital where I went into a coma for a week and when I awoke, I needed a brain transplant and had to be brainwashed of the memory of the news. [Be quiet, Dan! I want to make this thing more dramatic!].
Life was great in Irvine, California. I actually LIKED school there. We could wear anything we wanted there [Yes, Dan; That includes tuxedos, swimsuits, pajamas, body blankies, and baby slings; out here we can’t get away with a missing belt.] We had two twenty minute breaks and one forty – minute lunch period. I had plenty of friends and had a lot of fun classes to go to. Also, I’ve been studying American history for six academic years. What was I going to do when we started studying about Jawhairlal Naeru [Okay, Dan; Jawaharlal Nehru; Happy?] I didn’t even know how to speak, read, or write Indian![Fine, Dan; HIindi, not Indian]
Back to the present. On our way to the airport, I tried to absorb all of the last parts of the States. I was about to cry looking out at the skyline of Los Angeles International Airport (LAX). I looked out until it was time to board. Now it was time to go London-Bombay-Indore.
We landed in India around 30 hours after we left. The first thing that came to my mind when I landed in India was –What a place! Indore (the city I landed in) was a city filled with stray animals and dust. There were almost no roadside plants or greenery. Almost all of the roads here were made of dust or stone. Haven’t they heard of tar here?
Adapting to India was harder than expected [Stop snickering Dan; I have HIGH expectations]. The climate was the hardest. The nights are extremely hot in summer. I couldn’t sleep properly for the first month or so. But then I discovered air conditioners and the problem was solved [Shut up, Dan! Some agent you turned out to be! Do you know how much I’m paying you for this? – reply – So what if it’s only a dollar? I can take it away too!]
For you O’ Teachers!
By Vasudha Gupta and Hridhima Tyagi, Class VII B
You made it easy
To understand,
You are the one
To thank.
When we have problems,
You explain us.
We trust you and
You trust us.
A lovely teacher,
You have been so
To teach us all,
You know.
We thank you for helping us,
In all ways.
You are the best, we’ll
Remember you always.
Fruits, vegetables and flower
Art by Oorja Rungta, Class VIII B
(Junior-editor)
Celebrate Each Moment
By Hiya Aidasani, Class VI B
There are 365 days in a year and every year has twelve months, 24 hours are there in a day, every week has 7 days. Every day, every moment passes and soon one reaches the end of another year. But the end of a year brings us to a new goal named The New Year. The moment we hear about the new year arriving, we are filled with excitement about the goals that we have to achieve in that year. We prepare its outline and then we make efforts in that direction.
When we bless each other with our wishes on New Year, does that actually attract bliss in our life? Yes, indeed, if we have wished someone deeply from our heart, it does bring peace and happiness in our lives and in our heart. The one whom we wished also feels happiness.
When this goodness overflows, it fills each moment of our life, each day, every week, every month, 365 days and thus the entire year. When we wake up every morning, it will be a New Year for us.
Have a Vision
By Avadhi Dass, Class IX F
How many times have our friends and family asked us, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” It’s a question we are frequently asked, but we do not always know the answer.
It’s okay not to know all the answers. Growing up, we often find ourselves wondering what we want to do with our life. No one but you yourself can discover the answer. It is not necessary to know the answer from the start, but it is important to have a vision. Your vision, the way in which you see yourself and the people and things around you, speaks a lot about you. It defines your character. Having a vision is like giving a GPS system to yourself. Your vision navigates you to your destiny. Your vision makes the world the way you want it to be.
Your vision makes you the best you can be each day of your life. It makes you dream and cherish the small moments of life. In passionate pursuit of your highest ideal, you learn to ignore the critic’s chatter.
To make the vision work, you will need to set priorities and plan ahead of time. Forget the laid back attitude of delaying. ‘Do it now’ will have to be your motto. With a vision, many of your professional and personal desires come true – only if you yourself write the script of your life. Visualize and imagine how you want your life to be and make it that way.
Have a vision, live your life according to your vision, work hard and you will definitely arrive at the destiny you chose in the beginning. Give your best and let life do the rest. And if you fail in the first attempt… always remember that failure is also a part of life.
Gee! Class X D
By Sanika Fegade and Yashvi Agrawal
Oh my god! You enter X D
All kinds of creatures you see.
We have a ‘billi’, we have a fish,
And they sure make a scrumptious dish.
Don’t forget our ‘common man’,
To help him is our plan.
Some times our tracks get stuck on one name,
Be it Yash, Yash, Yashvi, all the same fame!
Washroom is a dear friend,
Hanging out there is the ‘classy’ trend.
And oh when you enter our X D,
You will always find us in a laughing spree!
Shishuwood presents…
Art by Rishika Suri, Nikita Bhatia, Arushi Tulsiyan, Aeshani Pathak, Namrata Gandhi, Arundhati Jaiswal, Rashmeet Muchhal and Nandini Zalani, Class IX B
I am a tree!
By Vagmi Shah, Class IX B
I have lived my whole life in this forest right from when I was sowed. I still remember those two children who had come to this forest to sow a little seed. They had dug some earth out and then gently placed me in the soil. Day-by-day, I grew up, getting taller and stronger. New leaves grew and colourful flowers bloomed. I had become a home for many small animals. Birds had built their nests on my branches. Squirrels used to run up and down my trunk and occasionally a monkey would stop by. I was happy and contented until those men with saws appeared. They first started cutting the trees on the edge of the forest. I hoped that they would stop after cutting a few trees and go away. I reasoned with myself that I was too deep inside the forest for them to come and cut me. But nothing stopped them. As I saw my friends falling down to the ground helplessly, I realized how cruel and selfish humans are. We trees have provided them with many things to help them, but do they even care about us? Everyday we trees take in harmful carbon-di-oxide fumes and give out pure fresh oxygen for them to breathe. We stand like a barrier and stop floods and cold winds. In a way, we act as their guardians. We provide food to them. In short we are the reason they have been able to survive all these years. And they show their gratitude by cutting us down mercilessly? I can’t believe any creature could be so cold-blooded. And now, they are coming towards me. Their saws slice through my trunk. Even now I am unable to believe the extent of their cruelty. How can they just cut a young ten years old tree…..
