A Fortnightly Newsletter

Issue # 9 - November 1-15,2011

Educrats
Featured This Week An Untold Saga The cool breeze once again greeted me with full force, as I was standing on the top of my favorite hill Inspiration In my childhood,every morning I sat upon my porch and looked across the street to the lone tree

The
Meri Darshika

T apra Chronicles

Editors Pick

Mat pucho mujhse meri tasweer kya hai

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Bhangi and HeMan take it to newer heights.. Read their conversation in the Kha-Mat section Page 6

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Find A Selection Of Gadgets, Books, Websites, Movies & Music, exclusively handpicked By the editors of THE EDUCRATS

Foreword
After a short break here comes a fresh issue of The Educrats with a fresh look, with a new editorial team and a wholly revamped look that promises to make up for all that you missed. In pen route this time are the awardwinning entries of Quill Spill, an untold saga of a kashmiri girl through the words of shikha shah and the agony of being not-so-poetic ironically through a poem by neerja and meenakshi. Sonika Madhavs Meri Darshika asks the viewer to..well see for yourself! Also find out how a tree could be a source of inspiration for someone and get a closer view of how CAT can be a worthwhile experience through the words of Sonia Bhargava, a CAT taker herself. Culture-vulture takes you through the mind blowing rags to riches story of a life life changing game show and all that buzz about it that has been trending past few weeks. Editors pick comes up with a new section with our special correspondent, Foodie, on the hunt for a new and unknown eating joints, especially if youre hard-pressed for money and still want to experience the taste of some lip-smacking dishes. Yet again your favorite,

tapra-chronicles brings to you another set of excerpts straight from the trio HeMan, Bhangi and Lomad. In the end it is yours to decide what you think of the revamped look. Happy reading..!

-Vincent Van Gogh

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Issue # 9 - November 1-15,2011 Issue # 4 - July 15-31,2011

Pen Route

An Untold Saga
- Shikha Shah

The cool breeze once again greeted me with full force, as I was standing on the top of my favorite hill, arms fully stretched ,letting the gentle wind comfort every part of my aching body .I was always overwhelmed by this, My regular escape from the real world into the world of Fantasies. The winds carried me to a distant place, away from the harsh realities, promising peace , free from gun-fires and bombings .Where I could fly in the sky, dance in the rain and do whatever my heart pleases. My day-dream was broken by the sound of bullet coming from a near military camp, stations very close to my house, in Rajouri District ,20 miles from ceasefire line between India and Pakistan, also very near to the dense forest popularly coined as the abode of Aatankis. Abbu detested these military people, said, They are cruel and selfish, can never understand a Kashmiri. But I have always found myself smitten by their fearless attitude. My day began at 5 in the morning .I, along with Zara, my best friend, walked to the forest to collect my days firewood for selling in the local market, later, to earn something to support my family. Our financial condition had worsened after losing our only house to bombings. Occasionally, when the incomes tight, we sleep half stomach. Zara says,Government will support, but our situation is still the same. Besides all the hardships and miseries, I couldnt get over the constant fear of losing one of us. The thought of terrorists banging at my door for food and shelter, and shooting one of us if we
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dont fulfill their demands, brought shiver to my spines. Recent happenings had further daunted my spirit of living. Zara, my beloved Zara had died mysteriously. Her body was recovered from the forest, three days after she was reported missing. Her body was half-naked, ripped at several places & her last expression was undoubtedly that of terror. It felt as if, I was dead, buried along with her, all the enthusiasm & the verve of living that, sometime back was an integral part of my personality, was all gone. Now, I am just surviving. Sept 27th, one full month after Zaras Funeral, I am still struggling with my life, coercively alive. The Army has shifted its base from Rajouri to elsewhere. I returned home, rather early, skipping my favorite spot as it strongly reminded me of Zara. Now, she has started appearing in my subconscious mind urging to punish her wrong-doers making it even worse. I went to bed after a quiet dinner to fight with sleep and push Zaras memories away. The peace of that night was suddenly threatened by loud husky voices. They were somewhere very close, as I could feel them .Suddenly Ammi screamed! I ran towards her, stumbling twice on my way , saw Abbu and Iqbal (my younger brother) dumping everything they could find at the threshold. Outside, the restlessness of Terrorists to force their way inside was pretty clear from their baffled voices. My Ammi gave me a grave look as I went to stand beside her. She dragged me to the cot, pushed me beneath it & covered it with unwashed clothes. The next thing I remember is my door blasting apart, with its pieces flying everywhere & a masked man stepping inside, having the most deadly yellow eyes Id ever seen in my whole life. He was accompanied by his 5 subordinates ready to kill at his command. Without even uttering a word, one of his subordinate straightaway started thrashing Iqbal & took on Ammi when she interrupted. One of them was holding Abbu and Abbu was trying with his every strength to break-free, regularly abusing. The leader made his way towards Abbu but was suddenly halted by my torn photograph lying on the floor. He picked it up and

pointed as my Abbus face & said, Thats a sensuous daughter you possess, what would you do of her? entrust her to me .Ill take full care of her.! My Abbu denied my presence & lied that I was at my Grandparents. He gave a ruthless laugh & shouted, Thats a nice try! ,but I am not a fool, your face clearly tells that you are Lying Quickly surrender her to me, & I will handsomely reward you. At this point I even considered showing myself up & saving my family from the agony. But was stopped by my Abbus reaction. He shuddered and shook his head refusing to give away anything. This irritated the leader and he shot a bullet aiming at Abbus leg, Tell me you Scoundrel! Where have u hidden her?? Nobody says no to me!!& then he stepped on my lying Abbus open wound pressing it hard against the floor with his spike shoes. Abbu was squealing with pain, with blood oozing out like water flows out from a fountain. The Monster was clearly reveling in hurting Abbu! I dont know what struck me at this moment, all I remember is that I launched myself holding something in my hand on him, cutting and ripping every part of his body not stopping until his yellow eyes relinquished. I snatched his Ak-47 & threw it to my brother who shot 2 of his subordinates, watching everything dumbstruck. I, with another rifle in my hand injured the other two forcing them to flee. This was my first experience with Guns, let aside AK-47.We half-carried, half dragged Abbu to the nearby Police Station, some 4 kmts away regularly firing bullet in the air to keep the terrorist away. Today as I am writing this, months after the incident, sitting in my new house at Delhi, feeling very secured in Z level security provided to me by the Central Government after Lashkar-e-Toiba announced a sum of 6 lakhs on my head, dead or alive,i still shudder at the memories of that horrendous day. I suddenly became a celebrity after that incident, Media pushing each other for a 10th grade dropout seems strange. Government and Religious Groups
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gallant act. Yes, I have been attacked after that day, twice here in Delhi. They are not giving up, neither am I! I hope Zaras soul rests in peace as she has stopped appearing in my dreams after that fateful day. Honestly, I am not afraid anymore. But yes, I miss my favorite spot, especially the comforting breeze that still has the power of healing my Unseen Wounds.
*Inspired by the true story of

with what I know to be true. That tomorrow is not promised so today I must fight. I must overcome all that comes near me and rise above the trials I face. To glow in the beauty of my joy and splendor regardless of the storm that rages around me. To never let the enemy see me sweat, though he may bend me or wound me he will not overtake me. I will stand with arms held high and give praise to the Father for creating me. For it is in the moments of praise that we find ourselves lifted to the shelter of his love and protected. Through this tree I have learned patience when I want to scream, peace when the world is tossed around me, and the ability to stand when it seems I would be knocked down. All in the simple act of lifting my branches to heaven and giving honor where honor is due.

Meri Darshika
In my childhood, every morning I sat upon my porch and looked across the street to the lone tree that stood on the hill. There were other trees nearby, but they all had close tree neighbors, none stood alone, save this one. It was mighty and majestic, overshadowed the hillside with its girth and height. Its leaves provided shade for the cattle that resided within the confines of the fence below. It was a lone warrior facing elements alone, looking nature in the eye and remaining strong in the face of what may come it's way. In the winter its branches were bare and covered in ice, leading you to think that when springtime came it would fail to return to its former splendor. When spring storms came the winds wailed against it taking a few branches hostage to their bitter fury, yet it remained. Steadfast and sure, secure in the knowledge that it's foundation was firm. Once when the floods of spring overtook the hillside, nearly reaching the road and covering the base of the tree with its furious rushing water. The tree remained. I wish to be like that tree. Strong and confident in the knowledge that I know where I place my trust. Knowing that my roots are firmly planted in the soil and it will not shift on me, regardless of what rises against me. I find balance in that tree. My center of self, reminders of the God I serve and His loving hand upon my life, even if it seems that the enemy has won. To bend and sway with the winds of storms and to rise above the waters of floods and still remain vibrant and healthy, despite the odds I face. It is my focal point on a hectic day, visible night or day. It's presence keeping me in line
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- Sonika Madhav

KAVITA TO BANNE SE RAHI HUMSE !

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Issue ## 7 -6 - August 1-15,2011 Issue 9 - November 15-31,2011 Issue # September 1-15,2011

-Sonia Bhargava

A journey, a process, a lifestyle, a do or die situation, a way to relive life, CAT is anything but a mere exam for its true aspirants. When I embarked upon this journey I had no idea about the changes of epic proportions it was about to bring to me. It was a gateway to the world of those alluring corporate jobs, a way of earning lots of money in less time (without compromising with honesty). I was attracted to the glitz of that glamorous world in the way

the glitterati of the Tinsel town would appeal to the bourgeoisie. It started with the scholarship test at XYZ. A meager 10% scholarship came as a huge disappointment as it dissolved many delusions I had about myself and was intimidating to an extent. I went ahead with joining the classroom course but perhaps got the least of learning there. All that was taught in classroom was to solve questions using algorithms or formulae, but CAT is about solving problems using the right attitude and mindset inter alia. In the preparation for those 140 minutes there arent any limits of hard work. Not an upper
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limit not a lower limit. Its possible you slog for an year and still dont fare well and its also possible that you put in the least required effort and come out with flying colors. The learning process hence went well beyond the classroom and took me to the Cat Club. Though initially it was easy to find a relation between the club and CAT later on it became more about the intangible things which were not directly related, not completely unrelated, but certainly were due to CAT. Each of the three segments through which the meetings proceeded added to my character something in its own way, not least did In The Pulpit. It gave me the confidence to speak up about myself as candidly as possible and to take criticism on the chin. A platform and atmosphere for group discussions on all and sundry topics and answers to all my queries. It became all about seeking and giving inspiration and support. A chance to be associated with people I never wouldve met otherwise. An important part of the preparation were the MOCK tests because they were the most honest indicators of my strengths and infirmities, my performance all together. Besides, they also taught

to deal with frequent shocks as the results were mostly not as expected. Though initially they were nerveracking experiences eventually, I could overcome the nervousness and a perfect testimony to it is the fact that I was least nervous while giving the actual test on D-day! Yet I didnt do well in CAT because perhaps my preparation. But the fact that I botched it up doesnt bother me much. In fact, the results of a simple scholarship could affect me so much sounds funny and unbelievable now. Similarly hard to believe are many other things that happened in the span of last one and a half years due to this exam. Developing a reading habit and be able to sit and study without breaks every half an hour are things I did to perform well in CAT. Also,

now I dont despise math as much as I did sometime back. Though these arent sufficient to get through this exam it helped me to make a start at least and AB company wasnt the last resort for me. CAT for me now is the beginning of a journey, where few bad results en route cant decide whether it was worth taking or not. And well begun is half done after all!

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Issue ##97- -November 1-15,2011 IssueIssue6#- 4 - July 15-31,2011 Issue # September 1-15,2011 August

Cu ltu re Vu ltu re

By PV Snehil
The voice from host of decade announced -"Crorepati ban gaye aap".....the contestant poured a glass of water over his head. It was not merely a glass of water, in fact, it was his emotion that flew with water, registering that moment as sanctimonious for him to remember throughout his lifetime. But these action were captured by the cameras and the oblivious players goes on showcasing their emotion without forbidden lines. It is the aura created at that moment, with several factors like the rising balance on computer screens regularly poking the player to take more money home, the veteran artist like Amitabh Bachchan sitting across the computer and trying his best to normalize the scene, the teeming mind with thoughts ,that are not just tress passing but creating a storm inside, and after all these are successfully hurdled across then are present individuals ambitions, dreams; which contribute for the players obliviousness. This Game show is therefore very interesting to explore human reflex when he is set free to battle against his individual ambition, expectations , the pressure and of course money. This battle is beautifully encapsulated by the eyes of lens and glamourized to make it appropriate for national television and thus making it an Emotional Extravaganza. The rising amount of money with every question could be clearly read in demeanourism of the contestant. As viewers, Its not only exciting to see the great achievers but also exciting to see great downfall of some contestants where you feel, if it was me, i would have made it. In 121 billion population, every heart is amazed at such an easy way of encashing your pockets and get your destiny re-written. The dream was in backburner till now, comes alive as you could relate to story of that man which is molded as story of common man of country. The field of emotions expressed is so strong, it lets the viewer's credence of he being at Hot seat even more real. And then starts the drama in the residence , with his wife, family neighbours and even relatives 1000 km far from him who pretends to be altrustic so that if ever an opportunity comes atleast their name would be taken into count and will be heard on national television. Rest may have some different reasons but the covetous side of every being has come into existence. We can only hope it to be healthy as long as it exist. It also plays with emotion of the host himself. A person who is overwhelmed with deference of people over there, his reactions are celebrated by million hearts on earth and he tries to be a sangfroid figure and set apart all his excitement as he is a savant in his field and knows very well to express. But the game show countermands even his behaviour when the sum amounts to 5 crore. He too has the same level of excitement as contestant playing the game. At times he is flooded with thoughts and sometimes he is running out of words. The nation enjoys his nervousness too along with his great charm and confidence. Thats the beauty of game, be it a normal human being, or a star, educated ,uneducated, english or hindi, whatever be your language-it brings out the real you with such an ease that the emotions weaved around money and dreams are treat to watch and at times lets you replenish your dreams too.

(Swami Agnivesh)

- Priyanka Bhargava

Reality shows provide a far better platform than media. As media exaggerates any and every comment. It was my decision, so I joined Big bosss house. However, people tried to scare me initially but I think it is a great platform to connect with the mango people. There were some advices from my well-wishers like rakhi sawant and sara khan who said that I shouldnt have gone to Big boss. But, keeping in mind the wretched condition of the house, where everyone put themselves in a soup due to their frivolous behavior. There was a terrible need for a revival; there was a need for me to go in there. I wanted to go inside the house to bring harmony among those people who makes an issue out of very small things. I guess they are not to vie but to fight with each other. I got a separate room in the house, which was again under controversy as all members are equal in that house and nobody gets a separate room. But thankfully queen shradda gave me her room that was assigned to her. Also, I went inside to change pooja mishra, who constantly keeps on fighting with all others members; I think she can be a very good revolutionary. She finally found a friend in me. Now, I am out of that battlefield, I am feeling quiet relived. I hope that my purpose is fulfilled and I completely enjoyed my sojourn. Now I want to meet the gandhian Anna as soon as possible and apologize to him.
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Issue ## 7 -6#- 4 - July 1-15,2011 IssueIssue September 1-15,2011 Issue - November 15-31,2011 9# August

Kha Mat...

Tapra Chronicles 9.0

HeMan abe Shankar..ek chai de..

Bhangi arey wo bada kela ho gaya mere HeMan saale sharma to aise raha hai jaise saath..sala usko bada pasand hai wo girgit.. tu hi ladki hai!! HeMan arey...fir to koi chara nahi tha.. Bhangi kya nautanki hai be..yahan apan berozgar baithe hain aur tu ash kar raha hai!! HeMan abe tu hi akela nahi hai..apan bhi tere saath hain!!

Shankar (tapra owner) tera dusra banda nahi aaya aaj? Bhangi abe ek full fry bana de.

(lomad enters) Lomad kya be..kiski maar rahe ho aaj??

HeMan abe jalwe hain tere to..kal tak kutta Bhangi and HeMan (in unison) teri!! Lomad (with an extra wide grin plastered on nahi poochta tha aaj Shankar pooch raha his face) abe ho jayega ro mat.. hai!! HeMan mai suna nayi gf ban gayi hai teri?? HeMan tu to chup hi reh..ant shunt likh deta Bhangi arey apan to tapre ki shaan hain kya!! Lomad abe!! Aaj tak se jaldi to tum dono hai aur hero ban jata hai! ko pata chal jata hai!! Kaun bakaa?? Bhangi abe idea!! Mere newsletter me is HeMan sahi bola..kyu be Shankar?? Bhangi wah lomad babu!! TCS aayi to ladki bar tu bhi mast dhinchak poem likh fir usko padhayenge!! Shankar saale udhari ka khata hai aur saath layi!! hero banta hai! HeMan chup be TCS ki to baat mat HeMan abe tu apne paas rakh apna HeMan kaun sa udhar bacha hai be?? kar..sala sabka kaat diya is bar..shankara, newspaper mai chala..abe shankar likh lena aaj ka aur in dono ka mat jodna mere me!! rungta me humse teen guna liye hain!! Bhangi tujhe bhi ghajini ban ne ka nasaa chadha hai kya?? Lomad khaa mat HeMan...abe bhangi, abhi Aandhi aayi bas baat hui hai ek do bar.. Bhangi jhooth bolta hai saale!! Daily raat me message message khelta rehta hai aur bolta hai ek do bar!! HeMan maa kasam!!! Kaun hai be jo is pandu se batiyati hai?? Lomad arey achhi ladki hai be.. HeMan aaiit!! Launde..paaye ho!!! jo teri HeMan abe ghanta dus cheezen hoti hain khapat sun ne ke baad bhi tujhse baat kare dimag me kitna yaad rakhega aadmi..achha wo achhi kya mahaan hogi!! wo chor ra.one dekha? Bhangi per TRAI ne maar di iski..din ka Bhangi arey bhai mat yaad dila..sala kha 100 sms aur daily khatam ho jata hai!! kar chal diya!! Lomad (blushes) abe daily nahi hota..bas HeMan (started laughing loudly)kaminey kal hua tha..poem suna raha tha usko.. dekhne jaane kaun bola tha..sala girgit ki tarah idhar se udhar uchhal kood karta fir raha tha movie bhar me!!

Palangtod !! Chal na.. Tu aur main roke kar denge! B-) Sadda haq, What the F**k ! Teri movie tu hi rakh, rakh saala !

ya ya ya ! sukhe hue patto main pyar ka eshaas jaga de-ROCKSTAR has that magic.
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Issue September 1-15,2011 Issue # 9 - #-6 - August1-15,2011 Issue # 7November 15-31,2011

Ed itors Pick

Once
A Guy is singing his heart out on the streets of Dublin for tip money. One day a Czech Girl stops to listen to the Guy play his music. She is very impressed by his songs and she asks if he wrote his own music. The Guy says that he writes and loves to play his own songs to himself even if the street crowd wants to hear other music. The Guy lives at home and helps his father repair vacuum cleaners, but he has a dream of becoming a recording star. The Girl who happens to have a broken vacuum cleaner also has a musical background of playing the piano and writing songs. Their music brings them together and the Girl begins to help the Guy realize his dream. They begin to share their music and their feeling for each other. They put together a band with other street players and rent a recording studio for the weekend to record two demos. This could be the start of a new and wonderful life.
Source: IMDb.com

Raghu Dixit

Good Luck

The Glass Palace

The Raghu Dixit Project, founded by Raghu Dixit, is an open house for musicians and artistes from different genres to come together, collaborate and create a dynamic sound and expression. Raghupathy Dixit, originally from Mysore, is a self-taught guitarist-singercomposer-songwriter-musician. Raghu's music is an amalgamation of Indian ethnic music and styles from different parts of the world. His lyrics are about every common man's emotions and experience. Raghus songs are inspired by the verse of classic Indian poets. The music that The Raghu Dixit Project makes is a true representation of todays India. Ethnic and rooted at the core, but at the same time, global in its outlook. Hes on a mission to take ancient songs and poetry and bring them to contemporary audiences. The former Bharatnatyam dancers rousing folk rock is not only the symbol of metropolitan Indias blossoming alternative music scene, but is also making waves internationally. Raghu delivers songs in a fluid combination of English, Hindi and Kannada. Mysore se aayi, Hey Bhagwan, I'm in Mumbai Waiting for a Miracle and No man will ever love you, like I do are worth listening.

Bhilai, with its lack of eating joints has always been a subject of despise. But recently, we made a discovery of sorts and found out this place which affected our perception to a great deal. Though the name GOOD LUCK sounds like any other roadside dhaba, this place is completely different. The sight of it wasnt particularly promising considering the lack of furniture or even proper lighting! The menu was just a piece of paper with handwritten dishes which were rather cheap. Anyway, ignoring the mosquitoes we ordered veg barbeque and chicken fried rice. We were apprehensive at first as it didnt look quite good but the moment we tasted it every doubt vanished and we were lost in the mesmerising taste of the delectable dishes. The barbeque were hot and crunchy that caressed our taste buds and left them tempting for more. Being a non-veg fan the fried rice was another delightful experience for me, chunks of shredded chicken cooked to just the optimum softness and flavoured with selected herbs made it equally filling as enticing. In the end, there was a small price to pay for such a treat. Though the mosquitoes were a deterrent but such good food for that price more than compensated for it.

Big, bold, ambitious. It's novel as an event. Two centuries, three generations, three countries -- the size of its life is finely balanced by the enormity of its ideas. Here in this book of memory and movement, the agony of the refugee illuminates the idea of exodus, the power of the empire enhances the powerlessness of its keepers, freedom neutralises choice, and displacement is a permanent state of the dreamer. It's the human It is situated on the street in front of Apollo interest story of the great Indian diaspora, its hospitals entrance in Smriti Nagar, near the loss and longing in the time of war and water tank, Bhilai. colonialism."
Note: They take orders on the phone too. Phone: 0788-2292666, 4015106

- S. Prasannarajan, India Today

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A maestro.. A legend.. A baritone that transcended all emotions..

Issue # 9#-6 - August 15-31,2011 Issue # 7 - September 1-15,2011 Issue September 1-15,2011

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