Crescendo is the Language forum of Sri Bhagawan Mahaveer Jain Independent PU college, JC.Road ,Bangalore. The forum hosts various academic and non-academic activities to inculcate the interest in learning the nuances of languages in the minds of the budding generation. The forum was established in the year 2012 and the convener is Mrs. Sunitha Sastry, Lecturer,Department of English, who is actively involved in building the forum to reach new heights.
Monday, 27 June 2016
Yoga Day
Monday, 20 June 2016
7 billion people. 14 billion faces.(?) by Anish. M
Without the day, there won't be a night
With peace, there would be no fight
Without light, there would be no darkness
Without evil, there won't be any goodness.
With peace, there would be no fight
Without light, there would be no darkness
Without evil, there won't be any goodness.
Born with humility and pride
Life revolves around us having to abide.
Affection is merely fake display
In this world of moral decay.
Life revolves around us having to abide.
Affection is merely fake display
In this world of moral decay.
I'm an angel, a demon, too.
Both I can be on summon, I can switch between the two.
Between these two figures, I'm torn
My halo, it is held by my evil horn.
Both I can be on summon, I can switch between the two.
Between these two figures, I'm torn
My halo, it is held by my evil horn.
What are you gonna let determine?
For this you will be tagged, and to where you belong you'll be dragged.
For this you will be tagged, and to where you belong you'll be dragged.
There's war in most countries,
Women being sold as meat.
All they really care about is the next episode of Glee.
Women being sold as meat.
All they really care about is the next episode of Glee.
Millions dying every minute of famine that can be stopped
American killings reaching a new level, they're ruling with mobs.
American killings reaching a new level, they're ruling with mobs.
People here are losing the meaning of the Quran, because they say drugs are not compatible with Islam.
It's them who funded Al Qaeda and then they blamed a whole religion, they talk about terrorism, not their real mission.
The only place democracy is acceptable is in those place where American outlaws are susceptible.
You think you belong to the new world, son, you've polluted it and now, it's gone.
You think cannabis are bad for your head? Expose the government and they'll paint the walls red, with blood, from your head. Andto where you belong you'll be dragged.
An Excerpt from The Heart of a Teacher, by Paula Fox
An Excerpt from
> The Heart of a Teacher,
> by Paula Fox
He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School
in Morris, Minnesota. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark
Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, he had that
happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional
mischievousness delightful.
Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that
talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so
much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him
for misbehaving. "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know
what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to
hearing it many times a day.
One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too
often, and then I made a novice teacher's mistake. I looked at Mark
and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth
shut!" It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is
talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch
Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I
had to act on it. I remember the scene as if it had occurred this
morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and
took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to
Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them
over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room. As I glanced
at Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at me. That did it! I
started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk,
removed the tape, and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were,
"Thank you for correcting me, Sister."
At the end of the year, I was asked to teach junior-high math. The
years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He
was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen
carefully to my instruction in the "new math," he did not talk as much
in ninth grade as he had in third. One Friday, things just didn't feel
right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that
the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves and edgy with
one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand.
So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on
two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told
them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their
classmates and write it down. It took the remainder of the class
period to finish their assignment, and as the students left the room,
each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Mark said, "Thank you
for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend." That Saturday, I wrote
down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I
listed what everyone else had said about that individual.
On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire
class was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that
meant anything to anyone! I didn't know others liked me so much." No
one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they
discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't
matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were
happy with themselves and one another again.
That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned
from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving
home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip, the weather,
my experiences in general. There was a lull in the conversation.
Mother gave Dad a sideways glance and simply said, "Dad?" My father
cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. "The
Eklunds called last night," he began. "Really?" I said. "I haven't
heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is." Dad responded
quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is
tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend." To this
day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me
about Mark.
I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked
so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, "Mark, I
would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to
me." The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang
"The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Why did it have to rain on the day
of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor
said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those
who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with
holy water. I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there,
one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to me. "Were you
Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at
the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.
After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's
farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously
waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said,
taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he
was killed. We thought you might recognize it." Opening the billfold,
he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had
obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without
looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the
good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you
so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark
treasured it." Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie
smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. I keep it in
the top drawer of my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me
to put his in our wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said.
"It's in my diary." Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her
pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list
to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said without
batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists." That's when I
finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends
who would never see him again.
The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life
will end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be. So
please, tell the people you love and care for that they are special
and important. Tell them, before it is too late.
> The Heart of a Teacher,
> by Paula Fox
He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School
in Morris, Minnesota. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark
Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, he had that
happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional
mischievousness delightful.
Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that
talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so
much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him
for misbehaving. "Thank you for correcting me, Sister!" I didn't know
what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to
hearing it many times a day.
One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too
often, and then I made a novice teacher's mistake. I looked at Mark
and said, "If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth
shut!" It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, "Mark is
talking again." I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch
Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I
had to act on it. I remember the scene as if it had occurred this
morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and
took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to
Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them
over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room. As I glanced
at Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at me. That did it! I
started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk,
removed the tape, and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were,
"Thank you for correcting me, Sister."
At the end of the year, I was asked to teach junior-high math. The
years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He
was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen
carefully to my instruction in the "new math," he did not talk as much
in ninth grade as he had in third. One Friday, things just didn't feel
right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that
the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves and edgy with
one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand.
So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on
two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told
them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their
classmates and write it down. It took the remainder of the class
period to finish their assignment, and as the students left the room,
each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Mark said, "Thank you
for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend." That Saturday, I wrote
down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I
listed what everyone else had said about that individual.
On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire
class was smiling. "Really?" I heard whispered. "I never knew that
meant anything to anyone! I didn't know others liked me so much." No
one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they
discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't
matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were
happy with themselves and one another again.
That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned
from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving
home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip, the weather,
my experiences in general. There was a lull in the conversation.
Mother gave Dad a sideways glance and simply said, "Dad?" My father
cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. "The
Eklunds called last night," he began. "Really?" I said. "I haven't
heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is." Dad responded
quietly. "Mark was killed in Vietnam," he said. "The funeral is
tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend." To this
day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me
about Mark.
I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked
so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, "Mark, I
would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to
me." The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang
"The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Why did it have to rain on the day
of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor
said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those
who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with
holy water. I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there,
one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to me. "Were you
Mark's math teacher?" he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at
the coffin. "Mark talked about you a lot," he said.
After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's
farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously
waiting for me. "We want to show you something," his father said,
taking a wallet out of his pocket. "They found this on Mark when he
was killed. We thought you might recognize it." Opening the billfold,
he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had
obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without
looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the
good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. "Thank you
so much for doing that," Mark's mother said. "As you can see, Mark
treasured it." Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie
smiled rather sheepishly and said, "I still have my list. I keep it in
the top drawer of my desk at home." Chuck's wife said, "Chuck asked me
to put his in our wedding album." "I have mine too," Marilyn said.
"It's in my diary." Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her
pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list
to the group. "I carry this with me at all times," Vicki said without
batting an eyelash. "I think we all saved our lists." That's when I
finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends
who would never see him again.
The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life
will end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be. So
please, tell the people you love and care for that they are special
and important. Tell them, before it is too late.
The Crescendo Club
The Language forum is headed by Mrs.Sunitha Sastry, the vibrant Convenor, who works for ardently in organising events.
- The English Forum Lexicon Club is managed under the leadership of Ms. Salini Rajendran, Lecturer, Department of English.
- The Hindi Parishad Uttung is headed by Dr. Gagan Kumari, Lecturer, Department of Hindi.
- The Kannada forum Kannada Vedhike is efficiently handled by Mrs. Ramya, Lecturer, Department of Kannada.
- The Sanskrit Forum Samskritha Nivaha is headed by Mr. Ganesh Prasad Upadhyay, Lecturer, Department of Sanskrit.
- The activities of the Theatre Club Mimesis are managed by Mrs. Aparna T.V, Lecturer Department of English.
CRESCENDO is proud to have student representative, who are ever charming and inquisitive, helping the forum to achieve new heights ever year.
The Student volunteers for the academic year 2016-17 are:
Student Secretary :
1. Saiyam Jain
2. SImran Bhauwala
Student Representatives
Event Management :
1. Raju Chaudhary
2. Sanjay Jain
3. Prerana Jain
4. Muskan Jain
5. Mahesh
6. Divya
7. Divyashree
8. Navyashree
9. Chandanashree
10. Vibha
11. Kajol
Anchoring :
1. Niharika Agarwal
2. Sourav Chaudhary
Technical Team :
1. Akshay
2. Milan Rao
3. Rahul.R
4. Karan
5. Niranjan
Wednesday, 15 June 2016
The Rising Literary Beads....
Crescendo proudly encompasses four language forums as a part of it.
1. The Lexicon Club - The English Forum
2. Uttung - The Hindi Forum
3. Kannada Vedhike - The Kannada Forum
4. Samskritha Nivaha - The Sanskrit Forum
5. Mimesis - The Theatre Club
The Forum hosts academic and non-academic events, inculcating the idea of literariness in the minds of the young generation. The forum also strives to address the spatial gap between the thoughts of the individuals and the society, thereby, providing a platform to voice the individual's ideas. The forum works diligently to create newness in the activities, which helps in bringing out the hidden talent. We act as a language lab and foster the literary skills to extract the writer in you.
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