Storieo

Category: Inspiration

Collection of Best Inspirational Short Stories

  • COCO CHANEL : THE PIONEER OF TIMELESS FASHION

    COCO CHANEL : THE PIONEER OF TIMELESS FASHION

     

    We all boast of at least one LBD (Little Black Dress) in our closets. Our parties and club nights seem incomplete without that one piece of garment which is glamorous and elegant at the same time. Fitted or flared, a LBD comes in all shapes and sizes and is enough to make a statement in any occasion that you go wearing it. But how many of us know how the ‘Little Black Dress’ came into being? Who created it? Who the first person to come up with this idea?

    It was a woman who is considered to be the pioneer of change in women’s fashion. It was none other than Coco Chanel.

    One famous quote as said by Chanel was, “Fashion fades; only style remains the same.”

    Chanel wholeheartedly believed in this saying and incorporated it in her sense of design. Her designs were so advanced that they are being diligently followed even today. Chanel’s name is now synonymous with the biggest name in fashion, the brand, ‘CHANEL’.

    Gabrielle Bonheur Chanel was born on 19th August, 1883 in Saumur, France to an unmarried woman named Eugenie Jeanne Devolle who was a laundrywoman. Her father was a roving street vendor, Albert Chanel, who sold work clothes and undergarments. When Gabrielle was eleven her mother passed away due to bronchitis; unable to care for his five children, Albert sent his two sons to work in the farm as labourers and his three daughters to a convent for the poor and destitute. At the age of eighteen Coco went to live in a boarding house for girls in the town of Moulins because she was too old to stay in the convent any longer.

    To make ends meet, Chanel, who knew sewing, found work as a seamstress and when not plying her needle she sang in a cabaret which was frequented by cavalry officers. It was in one such performance at the ‘La Rotonde’ that Gabrielle met young ex-cavalry officer and textile heir Etienne Balsan.  She became his mistress and lived with him in his chateau for three years. These three years were a lie of luxury for the young woman as she had Etienne’s wealth at her disposal. He gifted her diamonds, dresses and pearls, but that was not enough. Chanel unknowingly started having an affair with one of Balsan’s friends, Captain Arthur Edward Capel. Capel made arrangements for her to move out of the chateau and start a life of her own, providing her with lodging quarters and funding for her first shops.

    Chanel, began her career by selling self-made hats. Her first boutique, Chanel Modes, opened in 1910 when Chanel was registered as a licensed hat-maker.  In 1913, encouraged by the success of her millinery career, Chanel ventured into deluxe casual clothing.

    This was the beginning of her future as one the most sought after couturieres in the history of fashion. Chanel’s designs were liberating in a sense that they provided comfort and room to breathe in a time when women were constrained in the strings of a corset. Coco Chanel is credited for doing away with the corseted silhouette by providing women with a casual, chic and sporty shape in their garments. She was also the first designer to bring to use the machine-knit heresy fabric for the construction of mainstream garments at a time when jersey was used only for making undergarments.

    Her death in 1971 was a huge blow to the fashion industry. The industry had lost one of its most loved and cherished creators. She was bid farewell with white flowers and puffy eyes glistening with tears.

    However, Chanel’s legacy as a designer still remains strong through her trademark look of youthful ease, liberated physicality and unencumbered confidence which is represented by her amazing silhouettes, pearl neckpieces and perfumes.

    Salute to a fashion designer who transformed the history of fashion into what it is today. May her name keep shining in the years to come.

     

     

  • “I am POSITIVE!” she yelled. “HIV Positive!”

    “I am POSITIVE!” she yelled. “HIV Positive!”

    It was just another Thursday in the city. The sun had started to sink into the unknown place beneath the clouds. Dusk would soon break upon. The gloom, which would accompany the immensely cloudy sundown, will soon display itself. Slow, humid breeze flew across the concrete road which was hardly visible beneath the jostling traffic. The road adjacent the ISBT 43 , Chandigarh was accustomed to the heavy volume of bulky vehicles which suppressed it every day, day in and day out. The profound and enigmatic sky above the road supported barely any life. All the life seemed to be concentrated right upon the shallow ground.

    Reena walked out of the bus stand, cleaning the sweat from her cold brow with the rear of her left hand. She was wearing a slightly dirty light brown salwaar-kameez with a dull-white dupatta. A bracelet adorned her wrist which looked weak, blue and fragile. Dark circles depreciated the beauty of her perfectly hazel eyes. Her otherwise perfectly curled eye-lashes were now messy. She never really bothered much about her looks now. A deep frown engraved itself on her forehead since forever. Although she was carrying nothing but the lightest handbag, her shoulders felt immensely heavy, as if she was carrying the whole world over them. She could not remember the last time she wasn’t really tired.

    “AUTO!” she waved to the slowing rickshaw.

    “Sector: 38-D.” she mumbled as she got inside it. It started even before she’d sit properly. Consequently, she stooped forward with a jerk, her dupatta almost dropping down. It was just like her life so far…giving her unforeseen jerks and shocks before she was ready for it. Although it took more than just a while, she finally had to accept the consequences of the occurrences. She barely had another choice.

    She looked outside the automobile. It was now passing through near the “New-Lake.” She focused through the haze to get a better view. Along with that, her mind also focused itself into the hazy memories which were ought to be forgotten. She remembered visiting here with Raj during their days of courtship. They would sit here all day long until they saw the beautiful sunset. Yes, they used to talk but after a point there was just silence. The silence was never awkward. It was beautiful. It was serene. They would just sit there for hours holding hands and marveling about the fact that how perfect were they for each other.

    It was just 3 years ago when they decided to take their commitment to the next level. Convincing the families was not that difficult as they both belonged to the same cast and the marriage was stealthily termed ‘arranged’ in front of the society.

    Ecstasy had run through her veins when she got the hint that may be she was expecting Raj’s child. She was extremely happy, elated and excited about their baby and their future with Raj.

    “I want to terminate It.” she was finally able to say.

    “What do you want to terminate? Your pregnancy or our happiness?” Raj yelled at her, sternly.

    “You would never understand Raj…I can’t have a baby right now.”

    “I thought I was your first priority, not your career!” he said, cupping her cheeks lovingly from both sides. His voice was breaking. His head demanded more than an explanation. It was more than just a shock for him.

    “Career is not what it is Raj…”

    “Then, what is it? Huh? Self-obsession? Fear? Maybe it’s just brutality!” his eyes were now pitiful. He looked ravaged. They could melt even the hardest rock.

    “Call it whatever suits you, Raj. I am going to abort this child!” She said, emphasizing on every word.

    He couldn’t take it anymore. Sniffles turned into sobs and she heard him curse her before he left the room. The door banged SHUT behind him.

    Her head physically vibrated as the stream of thoughts ended at the shut of the door. Warm, thick and tickling tears dropped slowly down her cheeks. The sound of the motor numbed her ears. The noise pleased her like some illegal drug. She wanted to collapse in that noise.

    The rickshaw had reached Sector 41 now. Twilight had already given into dusk. She could hear the clouds roaring. She remembered Dr.Nath, the psychiatrist who used to see her near this very place.

    “So I see you left your job?”

    “Yes…” she replied faintly.

    “Did you not like it?” asked the doctor in a very subtle tone.

    “I loved it. I was born to be an Architect.” she said, her voice breaking as she thought of her unfulfilled dreams.

    “Why did you resign then?”

    “I’m…I’m…”

    “Scared?” he completed the sentence for her.

    “Scared? Why would I be scared? What’s there to be afraid of?” she said in a reassuring tone, avoiding to make any eye contact with the experienced doctor.

    “Mam, you have to be honest with me if you want this to work!”

    “I don’t need this to work! I don’t need anything to work! My husband thinks I’ve gone daft! I am not crazy!” she yelled frantically.

    “Then why wouldn’t you let him touch you?”

    “I don’t like people touching me! I don’t like being near them! Okay?” she said as tears exploded again.

    “And why is that?”

    “I’m…I’m…”

     “Scared?” the doctor said as a vague attempt to complete the sentence.

    “No.” she grinned. “I’m leaving!” she said.

    This time, lightening broke her thoughts. Few seconds later, she could hear the thunder. It seemed to express the wrath of inside her brain. She rested her head on the seat as if trying to stop her brain from exploding. She kept her hands over her head trying to soothe the stress out. She realized that her stop was near. She had reached sector 40.

    “Of all the other days, today is the day you choose to show me this?” Raj said, flashing the divorce papers in front of her.

    “I couldn’t see reason why not.” She said, trying to sound scornful.

    “It’s my parents’ 40th marriage anniversary and you choose to give a heart-attack as an anniversary gift to them?” Raj said in frenzied-sorrow.

    He always tried to sound as if Reena didn’t matter to him anymore and that all he was worried about was the reaction of his parents. Deep down, agony choked his very throat.

    There was an eloquent pause. He felt as if Reena was melting. He saw his old Reena, the woman he loved in the eyes of this scornful beast. He wished she would say something magical… that the past one year was nothing but a disgusting prank she was playing on him. Her eyes were moist, but she’d become too good an actor now to let her feelings out on display.

    “I still can’t see a reason.” She said, simply.

     Despair was all he got from her. Since the past one year, it was nothing but the dismal despair. Disappointment, which would fill his nerves with vehemence and his heart with melancholy.

    “And what do you plan to do with your life? You don’t have a job! You don’t have a house! Your parents won’t take you back since you’ve become a bitch. Are you…eh…are you…wait a second…How much are you thinking of demanding as compensation, huh?” said Raj, with a sudden realization.

    “I don’t want your money. I just want to get rid of you.”

    “And then…? Live in a slum?”

    “That’s none of your business. For the record, I won’t trouble you for the rest of your life.” she said. Raj thought that he saw a tear flowing down through her eye, but then convinced himself that it was just another delusion. Stones don’t cry.

    “Madam Ji! Madam Ji? Madam Ji!” the auto-rickshaw driver woke Reena from her disgusting memories. She realized she’d reached her destination. She wiped her tears before she was got out of the rickshaw, trying to avoid any eye-contact with the judgmental driver.

    “Hmm?” she gestured him by frisking through her purse.

    “Rupees 40”

    She paid him Rupees 50 and didn’t even wait for the change. She could not face him right now. She walked away and the driver didn’t bother to remind her either. She didn’t even realize when the drizzle started. The rain was going to be torrential. Her ‘house’ was close to the main road. She walked until she saw the familiar billboard.

    “Balniketan Orphanage, Sector 38-D” it said, the ‘B’ almost concealed with dust. Lightning flashed and thunder roared as she reached the entrance. The rain was starting to pace up. The playground was empty. The hustle from inside told her that all the children and caretakers had gone inside sensing the incoming cruelty of the weather.

    “Excuse me, Mam.” Reena saw one of her students from the orphanage standing next to her. As she looked towards him, he continued…

    “Mam, Dubey sir told me to give this to you and asked me to tell you that ‘every teacher is doing it’ ” He said as he handed over a form to her.

    “BLOOD DONATION  CAMP. Volunteer to donate blood for the needful. All volunteers welcome.” the form said. It was followed by some personal details which were needed to be filled by the volunteer but she didn’t bother to read it.

    There was a loud thunder as she started to laugh. She’d missed the lightening this time.

    “I can’t do this.” She said, pitifully.

    “Umm…Why, Mam?” the student asked inquisitively as it suddenly started to rain torrentially. The clouds burst out their well-concealed emotions that were hidden from the world since a long time. It was a monstrous patter. The Gods had gone crazy.

    The student started running hysterically towards his room.

    The wind was furious. It was determined to take and destroy everything that came in its way. After all, the piled up agony was finally being released. Lightning flashed, wind whistled fiercely, thunder blasted and deafened every creature in its vicinity. The nature had broken away all the shackles and was now free and mobile. It wanted to shout; it wanted to yell the truth.

    Reena was the only one left outside. Today, she didn’t want to be safe. She wanted to get drenched in rain. She wanted experience the rage of nature first handedly. She looked up and tried to challenge the sky. The ferocity in her eyes could scare the sun…

    “Don’t you want to know the reason I can’t donate my blood?” she blasted her throat as if telling the whole world.

    “I am POSITIVE!” she yelled. “HIV Positive!” she screamed, remembering the day when the doctor had told her about it along with declaring that she was pregnant and her child could possibly catch the virus.

  • Dawn….

    Dawn….

    Eos' and 'Aurora' have been called as the Greek and Roman goddesses of Dawn.

    Dawn means day break when the grey firmament changes into blue,signifying the beginning of a new day.The word 'Dawn' has been significant in the history of mankind.Right from the beginning of this world the word 'Dawn' has been persisting in the world.

                                           Some of the countries welcome it with a ceremonial welcome .While others consider it auspicious as it brings another day in our lives. 

      This word also reminds us of the famous victories around the world which have been achieved before the break of another day during the Titanic wars .One such incident took place in the life of Major Rajveer Singh.He was the commander -in-chief of the Indian Sikh Regiment which was posted at Kargil near Jammu and Kashmir.

    It was already anticipated that a fierce combat was inimitable in the region against the enemy .A hint of disturbance in the region was already passed over to the Indian Camp.Intelligence had also announced that Pakistani troops on the other side might attack at 'dawn' but the big question was How and When.Major Rajveer Singh Colonel Harnam Singh and other senior members of the Sikh Regiment were already prepared for the impending attack.

    "Dawn' would have brought a victory as much as a defeat for them.

    It was after midnight that some movement was observed on the other side.Night binoculars had clearly indicated that the first groups of the enemy was advancing to the Indian post,but the danger was seen in the advantage of the enemy who was on the higher altitude and were occupying the topmost part of the Kargil mountain.As the territory belonged to Indians therefore it was a question of pride for this regiment to win the battle.Seeing the strength of the enemy it was looking difficult to overcome them when it came to the comparison of numbers.The regiment only had hundred odd soldiers as compared to the enemy which looked as many as five hundred soldiers.Even help from the other nearby post would have taken a lot of time.The second post was around twenty- five kilometers away and the soldiers were employed in repearing a bridge which was facilitating the passage of most of the soldiers .As the task would have taken atleast four  more hours therefore any help from this part would have not been possible before Dawn.

    The word 'Dawn' was reverberating in the ears of the regimental soldiers.

    But still the spirits of theses soldiers were high.At last came the time for retaliation.Two or three explosions had already taken place near the post but were not answered from this side .'Do or die' situation encouraged Major Rajveeer Singh to sacrifice his life as a human bomb.He could have hauled himself up on the cliff and would fall on the enemy to sure death.Everything went according to the plan.Nobody was told about the move ,only Colonel Harnam Singh knew it somewhere inside his heart.Most of the soldiers of their Regiment had been killed.Now,there were only a few who were providing a little resistance to the enemy.

    It was almost dawn as the grey firmament was now looking a little blue.Exactly at 5:30 in the morning came the blast which resounded through the whole valley.

    The great patriot had given his life.The mission was accomplished with the blood of a hero.

    It was Harnam Singh who was alive to witness this great sacrifice.The heroic tale was narrated thereafter but history had been written .Another martyr had been born.

    Then came the 'Dawn' with the rays of glory and pride for the Indian.Another battle had been won.

  • Last Embrace : Tribute to Neerja Bhanot

    Last Embrace : Tribute to Neerja Bhanot

    Tribute to Neerja Bhanot

     

    Today as I write this diary entry, as She always wanted me to write, my heart aches at the fact that you are not here to read it and appreciate me for my venture.. I still remember all the times when she made me a proud mother and today I write this to make Her proud of me:

    Since her childhood, I could see the spark in her eyes. The spark of an over achiever. She had it in her.

    I still remember how happy she had been in her life at that time. After her failed marriage, my pretty child had got her moments of happiness. I thought the storm had gone. Little did I know, it was but just the beginning.

     “Mumma, I promise you that one day you will be really proud of me”, my 12 year Neerja had said clutching to me once. I almost hear these words in her voice as I write this. Proud I am though, but not at this price. Yes, as an Indian, my chest broadens but what about a mother?  It’s torn into pieces. Which mother would want that? What’s the purpose of being proud when I don’t have my little baby to kiss for her success?

    My baby was like a baby herself. Even as a 22 year old grown up, her heart was of a child. It’s even painful that she left us 2 days before her 23rd birthday. She had been quite excited about it. She had planned an entire day with her family and friends. She planned so much. I can’t hold myself from breaking down at times when I recollect the grins she gave when it was about going to parties, specially her own.

     But I never knew that she was so mature, so brave, that she chose to save the life of kids, instead of her own.

    I remember the fateful day her flight was scheduled; I see that playing in front of my eyes several times. She never considered any job as big or small and was proud as being the senior ‘purser’ on that Pan am flight, even though she went to be an attendant. She had asked me for my blessings and gave me the tightest hug.

    Oh, I wish I could had stopped those moments for a life time and never let go of her from that embrace! Or I could have some supernatural powers to live that hug again, had I known they will be my last moments with her.

    Neerja, Papa is equally proud of you beta. He knew the very instant that you will not stand something unfair, when he got a call about the hijack of your plane while he was in his conference, even if it meant to get your own self in trouble.

    Our life has never been the safe since the day you have left me.

    All those awards and that asoka chakra that hangs  in our hall makes us imagine you with it, smiling cheerfully and saying, “I had promised you na?”

    I know you’re with me as I write all this now. I can feel you standing next to me. This chilly gush of winds out of nowhere can make me feel of your presence. I smell your perfume at random times. I see you in my dreams every day.

     I have stopped crying, but my hopes of seeing you again have not. I know you miss Mumma. I know you have lost your way, but you will find it eventually. I trust you on this.

    I know you will be back soon, for one final embrace. Our ladoo, you’ve died a hero, we salute you.

     

     

     

     

  • SpaceX : A Future Vision For Mankind

    SpaceX : A Future Vision For Mankind

    Nelson Mandela once said,

    Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world. 

    Elon Musk did prove it right. Elon didn’t just want to become an entrepreneur, he wanted to radically change the world for a better future. 

    Elon Musk, the name behind PayPal, Tesla Motors and SpaceX, is no certified space scientist but a person with a strong mind and a brave heart.

    He realized that he can make a global change by focusing on areas like sustainable energy, the Internet and making life multi-planetary

    In 1995, Musk enrolled in the prestigious Stanford University in the field of applied physics and material science.

    But within no less than 2 days of the college, he left the graduate programme with brother Kimbal to create his first IT Company Zip2.

    The company was an online city guide that provided content to online newspapers which was a new thing in the Internet. After residing in the rented office and using locker rooms of local stadium for shower for months, Musk’s Zip2 had won contracts with major players in the industry, including The New York Times and the Chicago Tribune. But the young entrepreneur had bigger dreams. So, in 1999 he sold his company to Compaq and earned back a fortune of $22m.

    Later in that year Musk started to work on electronic payment systems. He co-founded X.com, an online banking company using money from the sale of Zip2. In March, 2001 X.com merged with rival company Confinity to develop the first digital wallet. Later on they renamed the company as PayPal. In 2002 E-bay bought the online payment portal for $1.5b and Musk receiving a share of $180m which was enough to raise funds for his future prospects.

    Musk had already started planning about his space exploration technologies corporation (SpaceX) at the turn of the century.

    He was fascinated by the idea of colonizing mars by building up a greenhouse on the foreign soil which in the future could have become a basis for a self-sustaining ecosystem.

    But the transportation costs were touching skies. So now the trick was not how to get to the orbit, but how to do it in an economically viable way.

    Musk asked his friend Jim Cantrell, an aerospace consultant, to help him out. They travelled around the world to find the rockets needed. While they travelled, Elon borrowed Jim’s books on rocket technology.

    "He'd been borrowing all my college textbooks on rocketry and propulsion. You know, whenever anybody asks Elon how he learned to build rockets, he says, 'I read books.' Well, it's true.", said Jim in an interview.

    NASA dropped its hands as they believed there was no cheaper way to build this ride.  So Musk  had to do it using off the shelf technology by taking the old developed stuff of NASA and streamlining it.

     

    On March 2006, Elon Musk invested $100m in SpaceX. He calculated that the cost price of all the parts required for constructing a launch vehicle were only 2% of the launch vehicle price in the United States. In 2006-2008, the first 3 flight attempts of Falcon 1 failed. On September,2008 the 4th mission had finally succeeded in reaching the orbit. The Falcon 1 made it to the history books in 2009 as the first privately funded, liquid-fuelled rocket to put a satellite into Earth orbit. NASA was impressed by these achievements and signed a $1.6 billion contract.
     

    “The one major important distinction that sets him apart is his inability to consider failure.” Said a co-founder.  Indeed he outsmarted most of us by just being determined towards his goal.

  • Nirma : The ‘sabki pasand’ venture

    Nirma : The ‘sabki pasand’ venture

    What is the first thing which comes to your mind when you hear the word ‘NIRMA’ somewhere? Nirma Soaps, detergents, even university, or probably it’s decades old catchy detergent song ‘Sabki pasand Nirma’.  Evidently the song as well as the brand has become ‘sabki pasand’ with time but have you ever wondered who would be the man behind these products and institutions. Must’ve been a professional degree holder in marketing or management from one of the prestigious Institute of the country, right? Wrong!

    Dr. Karsanbhai Khodidas Patel is the founder of the present Rs. 3550 crore Nirma group with main activities in detergents, soaps, cosmetics, and salt.

    Though Karsanbhai Patel does not have a professional degree in marketing, yet he proved that a professional marketer does not need a formal degree in marketing to be successful!

    If marketing is to find the gaps and fill them, Karsanbhai Patel just hit the bull’s-eye.

    Karsanbhai Khodidas Patel is a benefitting example of a self-made man. Coming from a humble farmer family, he understood the need of the masses to serve a segment that was neglected but at the same time highly profitable. He established his firm in the lower income segment of the detergent market, gradually overtaking many heavyweights and multinationals, to emerge as a winner. Literally, he made money by washing others’ dirty linens.

    He is the founder of powerful brand NIRMA which he aptly positioned using 4 Ps of marketing, viz. Product, price, place and promotion, to his advantage.

    Karsanbhai Khodidas was born in 1945, in Ruppur village in north Gujarat in a family of farmers. He graduated in Chemistry at the age of 21. In 1969, Karsanbhai Patel, a chemist at the Gujarat Government's Department of Mining and Geology manufactured phosphate free Synthetic Detergent Powder Nirma (named after his daughter Nirupama), and started selling it locally. Karsanbhai Patel dedicated his after office hours for manufacturing his detergent powder in the backyard of his house and then carried out door to door selling on his bicycle while going to his work place, which was 17km from his home. . He gave a money back guarantee with every pack that was sold. Karsanbhai Patel managed to offer his detergent powder for Rs. 3 per kg when the cheapest detergent at that time was Rs.13 per kg and so he was able to successfully target the middle and lower middle income segment.  It gave the bigger established brands a run for their money and soon occupied the top market share. To add to all this, Nirma was made of an innovative formulation, which global detergent giants were later on compelled to emulate, it was phosphate free and hence environment friendly, and the process of manufacturing was labour intensive, which offered large scale employment.

    Nirma became a huge success and all this was a result of Karsanbhai’s entrepreneurial skills. Within a short span, Nirma had completely rewritten the rules of the game, by offering good quality products at an unbeatably low price.

    Nirma's success was attributed to its focus on cost effectiveness. From the very beginning, Patel had focussed on selling high-value products at the lowest possible price. The company endeavoured to keep improving quality while cutting costs.

    Karsanbhai jagged up one success after another. After establishing its leadership in economy-priced detergents, Nirma foray into the premium segment, launching toilet soaps Nirma bath and Nirma beauty soap, and premium detergent Super Nirma detergent. Overall Nirma has a 20% market share in soap cakes and about 35% in detergents. Nirma also has successful operations in neighbouring countries.

    As far as corporate social responsibility (CSR) is concerned, Nirma has made some good efforts by starting Nirma Education & Research Foundation (NERF) in the year 1994 for the purpose of running various educational institutes. In 1995, Karsanbhai started the Nirma Institute of Technology in Ahmedabad, which grew into a leading engineering college in Gujarat. Nirma has also set up Nirma labs, which prepares aspiring entrepreneurs to effectively face the different business challenges. Nirma also runs Nirma Memorial Trust, Nirma Foundation and Chanasma Ruppur Gram Vikas Trust as a part of their effort as a socially responsible corporate citizen. It also owns Nirma University. 

    Challenging established multinationals needs extreme courage and to win in the long run needs marketing foresight. Karsanbhai Khodidas Patel, once a government servant with the knowledge and experience as a chemist offered a good product and was aggressive in marketing strategy. He made the multinationals to follow Nirma and introduce substitutes such as Wheel. In this respect, the Nirma case can be compared to those of Ford, Apple, Sony, and Honda, all one-of-a-kind entrepreneurs who built their empire on gut feeling rather than following the classical patterns taught in business schools. This is a genuine road from rags-to-riches one would like to follow. 

  • From deserts to the page 3: Story of Waris Dirie

    From deserts to the page 3: Story of Waris Dirie

    Based on a true incident

    Female genital mutilation is a very sensitive social issue which violates the human rights reserved for woman. It is also practiced in India in some parts of Maharashtra. This story is about Waris Dirie who is a victim of FGM and how she fights all the odds to become a supermodel. 
     

     

    Running away

     

    The song 'Titanium' by David Guetta reminded me of her. She was Waris Dirie.

     

    I am bulletproof. Nothing to lose. Fire away. Fire away.

    Richocet, you take away. Fire away. Fire away.

    You shoot me down. But I won't fall. I am titanium.

     

    Her feet were bleeding. The thorns pierced her deep through the veins of her feet. The thorns of life had taken away her freedom. Through the cacti and reptiles of the barren deserts of Somalia. She fell. Only sand could be seen everywhere. She looked up at the sky. The night sky was too black. As black as charcoal.

    In her darkest moments, there were stars shining bright in the sky. Twinkling forever. Giving her a ray of hope to get up.

     

    "Mama, I don't want to be away from you."

    She saw her mother's face. She wanted to be back. With her. With her little brother, Jeez. He always used to say,

    “Will you make me a doll some day?"

    She could not help it. Her feet were sore. They were bleeding. Blood was oozing out from her heart.

    She was free now. Free from that old man. That old man looked like a scarecrow. The turban on his head was a bag of rags. He smelt like tobacco. It had choked her to death when she had to meet him. The wrinkled face with that pot belly. His pointy nose was like a woodpecker's beak. And those dirty yellow teeth. His eyes seemed as if they were desperately thirsty for something. Something he had found in her. She was devastated. Her mind was full of random thoughts.

     

    After all, he was the prince of my dreams? I felt like I was falling into a deep well. I couldn't live with a man like him. Why did dad want me to sell me away? I couldn't marry that man.  I wanted to sit on those hills with Jeez and spend all my life with our sheep. Mama used to send us with the herd every morning. We would play with stones and leaves. I was so happy. Now, I was not ready to lose everything for that old man.  Mama and Jeez must be searching for me. But I am too far.Too far from home.

     

    Tears were rolling down her cheeks. Her feet were sunk deep in the sand.  She felt numb. Her feet didn't hurt anymore. The blood was frozen. Again, her mind was overflowing with a lot of things.

     

    I didn't want to run away like this, mama! I couldn't help it. I am too small to live with an old man like that. I am only 13. I am sorry. I know I have a weak heart. I am not brave. As you had always said,

     

    “Waris, you are beautiful. But you are weak. You have to be brave!"

     

    She ran. Ran through those deserts for days. She had to reach Mashi's home soon.

     

                                         *******

     

    Meeting the witch

     

    At Mashi's home, Aunt Teesta was annoyed. Waris could sense that. Her anger. Her fists were enough to kill Waris. She was always like that. Full of hatred for Waris. She sat on the doormat and waited for her aunt to speak.

     

    Aunt Teesta was plump. She looked like a big fat pumpkin. Jeez used to call her 'Pump'. And those arched eyebrows were always frightening. She was a perfect witch.

     

    "Waris, we can't let you stay here. You should go and live with Uncle Daan. He will take care of you."

     

    Waris was relieved. Uncle Daan was a nice man. He lived very far our home. In London. With his wife and two children. He was a Somalian ambassador now. Mama always used to say good things about him. He was the only ray of hope she had had. Everything seemed fine until the cruelest words struck her eardrums.

     

    "After all you have run away from marriage. How will you live now? What have you done? It is a shame to have you here!"

     

    Aunt Teesta was indeed a witch. Waris sat on the door mat. She looked at the polished floor. Her feet were still sore. All she could do was remember mama's words to be brave. Her mind was full of thoughts again. Rushing with all sorts of questions.

     

    "Am I a bad girl? Does running away from a marriage mean death? Can't I live alone? What about those big beautiful women on the television screen who live in big cities? Are they all married?"

     

    Just when she was thinking about all that, Aunt Teesta pulled her to the kitchen.

     

    "Now girl! If you have to live here till the evening, wash these utensils and those clothes there in the corner."

     

    Waris was happy. At last she had got some work to do. But she was too tired to do anything. Her frock was torn from all sides. The frills were gone. Mama had gifted it to her for her last birthday. She couldn't throw it away. Mama was with her. In the threads of her frock.

     

    Aunt Teesta collected all her things and put it into a case and called up Uncle Daan.

     

    "Yeah! This good for nothing girl has run away from home. I am sending her to you. Come in the evening."

     

    Never did things go so fast in Waris's life. It was like an adventure for her.

     

                                      *******

     

    Less than a slave

     

    Uncle Daan's house was humongous. Waris reached the staircase. She could look at her face on the floor. So much of cleanliness all around. He was too rich. Too rich to even hire a maid fir themselves.

     

    "So, how come you came here?”

    “Mama was getting me married. I was afraid. I ran away. "

     

    Waris was so happy there.  With all the fluffy and soft mattresses on the beds for sleeping. Beautiful bathrooms. A playground. A dining table full of chicken rolls, apples, bananas, grapes and what not. She felt like a drooling dog for a moment.  It was like a heaven for her.

     

    "Come here Waris! Wash these clothes today. I was looking for a maid all this time. Good that you are here now. My money will also be saved. You are like a blessing."

     

    A blessing. She didn't get it. She was confused. Little did she know that the heaven was a grave for children like her. Children who run away from homes. Who are a shame for the family. Who wore ragged clothes. Who didn't behave like good girls.

     

    Her days went on like the days of an obedient servant. Waris was missing Mama and Jeez. She kept on thinking continuously.

     "Mama never made me work this much. I used to love boiled potatoes. She would cook for me sometimes. I want to go back. I will be made to work all days. I know. Washing clothes. Cleaning utensils. Watering the plants in the garden. Washing Uncle Daan's car. Cleaning up of the doghouse. Everything was fine until I found out that I have to sleep outside the house. On the doorstep. No fluffy  pillows or soft mattresses. And I had to bathe near the doghouse. No watching of television. Not even a glimpse of it.  And I had to wear old torn clothes of Uncle Daan's pampered daughters. "

     

    Waris felt like the princess of the kingdom of slavery. She was so content that she could have gone into the doghouse and told him to bite her to death.

    One day Uncle Daan stormed into the house yelling away like some mad king.

     

    “They have thrown me out. My term is over. I can't live a poor life. I don't want to go back there and be shepherds. They will take away this house, car, money…."

     

    She was cleaning the floor with a mop. The mop had got dry again. She had to drench it again with water. She had to go out. To the doghouse. To get some water and drench the mop. Uncle Daan was still shouting. Waris walked out.

     

    "How will I live then? I will have to live all by myself. I should have lived at home with that old man."

     

    Uncle Daan's term as an ambassador had got over. A shrill voice went right through her ears and hurt her too much. It was his wife. She called Waris to her room. Waris's legs ran in sheer hope of some shelter that she would suggest her. It was hard for her to expect such a thing from Uncle Daan's wife. But she didn't lose hope. She reached her room's entrance. The doorknob was dabbed with fresh flour. She had to clean it.

     

    “So, I don't think you can stay here anymore girl! Pack up and go on your own way. We are helpless. "

     

    Waris was heartbroken. She was too young to do something on her own. That is why she had ran all the away from her home. She was talking to herself again. Like a mad girl.

     

    "I was wrong about expecting anything from her. I am suddenly feeling all alone here. I have only one piggy bank I had got with me from home. Jeez and I had collected all the coins for getting a cycle which I had seen one day on the far distant road while we were with the sheep. I remember I had hidden it in the garden at Uncle Daan's house. Near the doghouse below the marigold flower pot. I had to go and get it. That was the only hope I had had. I will have to go and get it."

     

                                            *******

    Photography and my speech

     

    Those days were full of misery and poverty. Waris had no food to eat. Not even a crumb of bread to taste. Not a glass of water to quench her thirst. The months of January and February were killing her. The chilling weather and the snowfall were too much for her body to bear. Dustbins were the only hope she had of finding something to feed herself. Nobody understood her when she tried to talk to others in Somalian. The nights were spent on some platform near a pub or a bar where she could find left over food to eat too. Uncle Daan had left her only with a passport for her. She was almost like a stray dog on the street. Dirty and shabby. Ignored by all. She knew nobody there.

     

     After so much of roaming around the busy streets of London, Waris got a job in a restaurant as a housekeeper. After all those days on the streets. Finally. She had a job. Waris cleaned the floor with all her passion. The floors had to look better than those at Uncle Daan's house. After all, the man on the counter paid her daily for her work. She had to impress him. Cleaning all the glass tables and seats. Removing the leftover food from the tables. Emptying the dustbins. She loved working there. She didn't have to go out and look for food and water packets in those garbage bins.

    The apron she was given to wear was even better. The lace was so like velvet to touch. Waris went into the washroom and admired herself in the mirror.

    “Look at me. Mom was never wrong. I look so good in this apron. The blue lines go well with the cream color."

     

    It had been three whole weeks when she had noticed a man on the third table at the right corner of the restaurant who used to stare at her daily.  A plump man with a pot belly. His eyes popped out his round glasses. The suits he wore were to loose. He dressed clumsily. Something was hanging around his neck. Every now and then he used to click at the buttons of that instrument and it flashed very quickly. The gapped teeth smile he gave to Waris was too scary for her. She ignored her.

     

    Little did she know that he was the famous photographer, Terence Donovan who photographed for the famous Pirelli calendar.

    That day things had gone out of hand.

     

    Waris was cleaning the dustbins when that man called her to his table. She went to him with her heartbeats racing like anything. She was afraid. She had run away from home to escape from a man. And now she had to face another one. He gave her a small card which had something written on it. Waris knew only Somalian. English was too tough for her.

    That card took her to so many world tours, ramp walks and her career had started there.

     

    And that was a turning point for her. From the deserts of Somalia to the cover page of the Pirelli calendar.

     

    Terence found her beautiful. Waris went for the career of modeling. After all the running around from home to the dustbins to the restaurant. She had found a ray of hope: Terence Donovan.

     

    It was the great day. She had to deliver a speech in the United Nations representing her motherland, Somalia. That day was a revolutionary day. She had spoken her heart and soul.

     

    The brown dress she had worn made her remember the apron she had worn in that restaurant. And the favourite blue frock Mama had stitched for her. Everything was still crystal clear in her mind. The auditorium was filled with so many people. People from different countries. Different families. The whole world had gathered that day for her.

    The podium was not far away. Waris reached it in no time. She adjusted the mike. The lipstick on her lips seemed too much for her. She wiped it off with her handkerchief. Her eyes scanned through the whole audience. She saw that man. The man who had helped her to reach there, on that podium. The one and only Terence Donovan. She cleared her throat. And she began.

     

    "A very good morning to everyone present here. I am Waris Dirie. From Somalia. My motherland. A place where women are never allowed to go out of their homes and are suppressed like anything. A place where I had spent my childhood until I had to run away from my home leaving my family because they had sold me to an old man. They were getting me married.

     

    Someone asked me in an interview for the BCN news channel that what was the most important part of my life which was a turning point for me. I still remember that pain. I had crawled on the floor in our hut for weeks. I was bleeding. It is called female genital mutilation. I had gone through it when I was five years old. Mama took me to the old woman who lived far away from our hut. And she held my legs and arms tightly while that woman was using a blade to mutilate. I was screaming in pain. Then she stitched it up with some thread.

     

    It was a life changing event for me. Today also millions of girls are facing the same problem. I am thankful to you people who are listening to me patiently. I hope a day will come when Somalia will be free of such practices. Not only Somalia, I am sure thus must be going on in other parts of the world too.

    Being a supermodel today and getting a platform to express my thoughts about this issue gives me immense pleasure. I just …."

     

    Waris was crying. Her throat had got choked. She couldn't speak more. A glass of water didn't suffice her suffering and pain. She continued with her speech.

     

    "Mama always used to say that I was beautiful but I had to be brave. Running away from home was after all the best decision I had taken for the women of my country. I guess I have been a brave girl today. Thank you. "

     

    Many girls and men were waiting for her in the auditorium. Each person was craving for an autograph. She was a supermodel. She was Waris Dirie.

     

                                           *******

     

     

    Waris Dirie

    waris dirie

    Waris Dirie is a Somali model, author, actress and social activist. From 1997 to 2003, she served as a UN Special Ambassador.

     

    Waris was born into a nomadic family in 1965 in Galkayo, Somalia. At the age of thirteen, she fled to Mogadishu in order to escape an arranged marriage to a much older man. There, she briefly lived with an older sister and her family. Waris along with a few relatives later moved to London, where she resided with and worked for an uncle who had been appointed Somali ambassador. When his term in office ended, Waris remained in the city and held a job at a local McDonald's. She also began evening classes to learn English.

     

    By chance, Waris was discovered by photographer Terence Donovan, who helped secure for her the cover of the 1987 Pirelli Calendar. From there, her modeling career took off, appearing in advertisements for top brands such as Chanel, Levi's, L'Oréal and Revlon.

     

    In 1987, Waris played a minor role in the James Bond movie The Living Daylights. She also appeared on the runways of London, Milan, Paris and New York City, and in fashion magazines such as Elle, Glamour and Vogue. This was followed in 1995 by a BBC documentary entitled A Nomad in New York about her modeling career.

    In 1997, at the height of her modeling career, Waris spoke for the first time with Laura Ziv of the women's magazine Marie Claire about the female genital mutilation (FGM) that she had undergone as a child, at the age of three along with her two sisters. That same year, Waris became a UN ambassador for the abolition of FGM. She later paid her mother a visit in her native Somalia.

     

    In 1998, Waris authored her first book, Desert Flower, an autobiography that went on to become an international bestseller. She later released other successful books including Desert Dawn, Letter To My Mother, and Desert Children, the latter of which was launched in tandem with a European campaign against FGM.

     

    waris darie 1

  • Dilafrose Qazi : A Ray Of Hope In The War Torn Kashmir

    Dilafrose Qazi : A Ray Of Hope In The War Torn Kashmir

     

    Right to Education Act (RTE) has been enacted by the Parliament of India since 4th August, 2009 which describes the modalities of the importance of free and compulsory education for children. But there are places where instead of getting free education, you may’ve to pay something way more precious than money i.e., your life. Areas of Jammu and Kashmir fall under such an inferno.

    Despite such struggles there is a lady in the state who was brave enough to provide quality education to children and improved the conditions of women in the abode of dead. Dilafrose Qazi started part-time courses for women, and eventually set up the SSM College of Engineering, the first private engineering college in all of Kashmir.

    “My biggest achievement has been to get people to embrace, as well as pursue education. I don’t believe in giving alms.” – Dilafrose Qazi

    Dilafrose’s life is a heart sinking piece of inspiration for the whole world. This woman persisted single-handedly trying to help women and children in the conflict-ridden state of Jammu and Kashmir, despite lack of security from the militants, rage of religious fanatics and harsh weather conditions.

    “My biggest achievement has been to get people to embrace, as well as pursue education. I don’t believe in giving alms.” – Dilafrose Qazi

    Unable to land into a government job, she decided to start her own venture. From her rented house in Rajbagh area of Srinagar, she started her journey with vocational courses for women in 1988. She taught girls cutting, cooking, stitching and shorthand.

    Dilafrose Qazi was born in Baramulla in the Kashmir Valley. Her family was poorly educated and no one ever had a proper schooling experience at the first place. Dilafrose’s father made leather garments, and her mother wove pashmina shawls. But her mother was determined to nurture her children with a proper education and send her children to a free government school. Qazi completed her Master’s in Education as well as got a degree in Law from the Kashmir University.  Unable to land into a government job, she decided to start her own venture. From her rented house in Rajbagh area of Srinagar, she started her journey with vocational courses for women in 1988. She taught girls cutting, cooking, stitching and shorthand.  That was also the year she got married. Her venture picked up, but so did the spleen of the militants and religious zealots.  She had to pay if she wanted to grow further and since Dilafrose had no other source of income, she had to shell out ransom to keep her classes going. Even her family was not spared; her refusal to the diktats of her antagonists led  to the kidnapping of her father, brothers and husband. After her family members were kidnapped, she was told that if she didn’t give up her cause, that anyone who dared to unlock the college doors would be killed. But still she did not give up. 

    She relocated to a safer place and procured a small land in the backward Baramullah district.  Still there were agitated religious leaders who would impede her from educating women. But she was resolute enough of her goal.

    Qazi even opened a sister college in Haryana for Kashmiris, helping ensure that the next generation would have sources of livelihood. She was also nominated alongside 90 other brave women from India for 1000 women for Nobel Peace Prize.

     “There was no question of surrendering before anyone with vested interest. Instead of entering into a war of words, I opened a free school for the local children and made people, especially those who opposed me, to realise the importance of educating women” she says. That small school today stands to be a hefty engineering college.

    Qazi continues to set examples for the women, as well as the men of her community. In pursuit of this goal, she has established schools for girls, an engineering and technology college as well as embroidery classes for women, camps for the medical and psychological treatment of women battered by the daily violence going around them, a dairy farm for rape victims, and rehabilitation programmes for militancy-hit families. Qazi even opened a sister college in Haryana for Kashmiris, helping ensure that the next generation would have sources of livelihood. She was also nominated alongside 90 other brave women from India for 1000 women for Nobel Peace Prize.

    Qazi believes that to provide education is the best weapon to fight any evil. From fighting against militants to fighting against her own people, losing her entire family and staking her own life every single second, Dilafrose Qazi has set an outrage among the natives of Jammu and Kashmir to raise their voices against the orthodox and fight for their basic human rights.

     

  • A Meet

    A Meet

    Suddenly the door burst open and like a gust of fresh breeze ,she entered.It was dark,spooky and uncanny night with cacophonous sounds from the nocturnal animals or rather a night of suspense.Suddenly the lights went off.

       As I went to bring the candles from the store when  hastily she stopped me and took out a lighter from her bag.The clinking sound from her anklets spoke of her feminity.Under the lighter I saw a glimpse of her,a tall girl of wheatish complexion ,her smouldering eyes full of compassion and vigour."Hello its Mira " ,she mumbled.No sooner did she say this than the light appeared.At the spur of the moment ,she appeared to me like a  deity with a halo hovering her head.I was knocked on my heels.

    "Balderdash!It is perhaps the craze of these daily soaps that is making me go lunatic"

      When she started to introduce herself then only I realized that she is a human like us.Laughing my lungs out I launched myself into a soliloquy,"Balderdash!It is perhaps the craze of these daily soaps that is making me go lunatic".Breaking the silence of the moment she said that she works in a ngo for women and girl empowerment and she has come here as a part of an investigation team.Earlier I did not understand but as and when she elucidated that the team is inquiring about the mishaps against women like female infanticide,human tarifficking and dowry, that it was etched in my mind.Hearing this I was inquistive and asked whether I could join her.She appreciated my volunteering and I joined the new venture.It was more of a CBI game to me,like I used to play as a child.

    "Are these tyrants going to bury money with themselves?"."How much land does a man require? 

    Seeing me hale and hearty ,she noted my name in her register.The register was huge like a book of fortune .It was an evidence of the avaricious world who kill their kins just for some money."Are these tyrants going to bury money with themselves?"."How much land does a man require?"This book was a blessing in disguise to the wretched souls who have faced atrocites.Having joined LTS(leadership training service and USM(Universal solidarity movement) during school days.This venture filled me with gusto.It was manifest in my eyes which sparked with zeal.

          The girl and I darted towards our goal.As we were moving down the   street she narrated me her story which drived her into this occupation.She said that she belonged to a very poor family.To meet both the ends ,her mother used to work as a maid in some house over here.Her father was a tyrant ,she strangled her mother when she was born.He wished for a son as everybody in this world wants.When she was 3 years of age,he tried to kill her mother and her but they absconded and went far away to Delhi at her maternal's place .From then on she decided that she won't spare the misogynists and  eliminate the orthodox malady.

       She worked hard day and night and got admission in the prestigious Delhi Public School ,Rk puram.Hitting the bulls eye she graduated from SRCC delhi university and got associated with an NGO.But destiny had something else in store for her,she was to return to that place from she started.She got this project after working hard day and night and she was not to lose it so she acceded to it .Now she is here in her birthplace,Nainital.

        Her story moved me to tears and I lauded her audacity .Then we moved from one house to another and recorded their statements.Till now nothing obnoxious was to be heard.We were exhausted and famished ,so I took her to my house for lunch and there we had a gala time with all of my  siblings jabbering about their school and friends. We showed her our childhood albums and for the time being all of us were transported to the kindergarten days. As we were turning the chapters of our childhood when suddenly a picture caught the sight of Meera.Aghast and dumbstruck she was.She pointed out that the lady in the picture was her mother and that it was she with her.

                                All of us were astounded to hear that, when I asked my mother about the snap,she reciprocated that the lady used to work at our house 21 years back and that the infant was her daughter .We were off one's rocker but exulted on meeting the old lost comrade.I was on cloud nine ,that we renconciled.I hugged her and we shared talks."When fate decides upon something ,it creates situations to fulfill it and through this incident I got my  chum back".It was a cherry on the cake when I came to know it was friends day .

                                              Till now whenever I think of that day I am filled with nostalgia.After the investigation Meera went back bidding us adieu.Now she is in America doing well in her stream.She has often been felicitated by the government there.Her dream is to get recruited in WHO and return lost smiles to the impoverished.Often I hear from her ,her courage ,selfless service fills me with motivation and adulation and left me saying that "Its the will power that can take you to heights not gender""Is hardwork biased?"In India its ironical that a women is treated as goddess. Respect women and you will be renumerated from  god and you will flourish.   

                                             

     

     

     

     

     

  • The Spark of Motivation

    The Spark of Motivation

    It was a hot summer afternoon in New York, most people preferred to stay indoors but school students had no other choice and had to attend their regular classes. Not many schools have all the sports facilities and cricket was not a very well recognised sport in New York. A school named SVB mid had the facilities for cricket. The school cricket team was led by Alex Parker who hated attending school but still did for the sake of sports. He entered into the cricket team of his school in the first year junior league.

    Alex stumbled on this sport while switching channels on TV in his childhood. He started watching the legends play the game. With rising interest in cricket, his performance started declining in academics.

    In New York there was only one school which encouraged cricket, It was SVB mid school. But the school takes in students based on their merit. After knowing this fact, Alex started focusing on his studies but never stopped practising cricket. He started improving his academic scores and made it into the SVB mid school.

    "Alex!", Shouted the maths teacher. "What are you dreaming about?", she questioned. Without hesitation, Alex replied "I'm sorry ma'am, It's too hot in the class and I am unable to focus." His reply annoyed her and she dismissed him from the class.

    Alex did not seem troubled by the dismissal, instead he took this as an opportunity to practice cricket. It was 2 o' clock in the afternoon and it was really hot. The heat didn't stop Alex from practising cricket, he practised till the classes got over.

    Everyone started coming out of the classes to get back home, Alex did not bother any of this and kept practising . The maths teacher approached him and asked him," Is it cool outside?" and left immediately without even waiting for a reply.

    The next day, Alex was called to the principal's office. "Mr. Parker, I have received many complaints on your activities recently. Do you have anything to say about it?". The principal Mr. Wilson was a humble man and always respected everyone's opinion. He never judged students without proper interrogation. 

    Alex did not want to tell the truth but couldn't come up with any other excuse. He stood there silently. The principal then stood up and said," You are the captain of SVB's cricket team, you are the leader, come on give me an answer."

    After a few seconds Alex decided to speak up, "I am not really a bright student sir, when I was five years old I found cricket by chance and fell in love with it. I started playing cricket everyday and started losing my track on academics. But when I knew that SVB was the only school which encouraged cricket, I started to work hard and began scoring better. I successfully joined the school and made it into the cricket team, I want to build up my skills in my area of interest sir. I am sorry for what I have done, This will not happen again and I will concentrate in the class."

    The maths teacher was standing by the side and was waiting for Alex to be shouted at. But instead of that, the principal said," From now on, I will coach you and you will have to attend the coaching whenever I call you. It will mostly be during your maths periods, I will take care on your maths during the coaching itself."

    Alex almost jumped in joy, he couldn't resist his happiness and on the other hand the maths teacher was really angry on the response given by the principal.

    Alex was trained by the principal every evening and helped him with maths. To keep up his expectations Alex started putting in more efforts in academics too. He started doing well in both cricket and academics.

    Later that month, there was a cricket tournament and Alex was assigned to lead a team of fifteen including the stand-ins. With all the training he received, he had gained enough confidence in himself. The team won the Junior league. This was the first time that a school team has won the junior league.

    The principal was really happy to see his school team perform so well in cricket. Even after the tournament ended, he didn't stop training Alex. He showed real passion in training the whole team. Seeing his dedication, Alex was keen to know about the principal's interest in cricket. He started enquiring about it, weeks passed by and he couldn't find anything. he decided to ask his mentor.

    "Sir! Can you tell me about how you learnt cricket?" asked Alex. After a moment of silence, The principal replied," I was ten when I first got to know about cricket, I wasn't in New York back then. I was in England and this game originated from that country. I developed an interest to the game and started playing whenever I had time. I started declining in my academics and cricket wasn't a good  reason for bad performance back then in my days. Only the rich children had the chance to play cricket, so I couldn't really get a chance to improve myself in the sport. I tried improving my skills all by myself and join a team, but by doing so I just created chaos in my academic schedule. I started failing in subjects which were easy. No one really encouraged cricket as a career in that timeline."

    The principal paused for a moment to drink water as his throat was all dried up after the training session and the talk. Alex started to realise that he is in a better situation than his mentor ever was. The principal continued," I always wanted to become a cricketer but never had the platform to improve myself. The current scenario in England is great for cricket, but here it's just starting. No one would want others to suffer from the same problem which they faced. I had the chance to create a platform, I did. I saw myself in you while you were training alone in the ground that evening when you were dismissed from the maths class. I am happy to see you do something of your interest." Alex was almost crying, he couldn't stop himself and he hugged principal with tears in his eyes.

    The next day, Alex wrote an article about his mentor's cricket history. It was published on the weekly school magazine and every reader who read it was emotionally moved and almost all the boys in the school joined the cricket club with interest. The school started to gain attention for its services in cricket.

    Alex took over as the student mentor as the Principal returned to his full time duty as the principal. Alex realised that everything is possible with a spark of motivation. The article which Alex wrote created that spark in every student of the school. The students started prioritizing based on their interests and not based on the peer pressure.

    Even fuel needs a spark to burn, likewise budding talents need the spark of motivation!