What Mauritius Needs

A crowd, strident timbre of the voice, cacophony of applause and cheering, whooping, hollering, clapping, stamping of feet, palpable excitement buzzed through the charged air, infectious grins, friends shaking hands, getting hugs, patting one another on the back, spontaneous outpouring of emotion. Today was a great day. ^^ Like any other school year, we had our School Outing today. When I wind back the hands of the clock, I remember how School Outings used to be about so many other things that didn't mattered a heck this time. Things like who you are going to sit with in the bus, what clothes you were going to wear or whom you are going to share your food with! :D This time it was about sheer giving it away to spontaneous moments coupled with some cheesy songs that are traditionally snag cheerily in the bus and topped with the new age phenomenon: selfies! xD Everyone was so jubilant, singing the songs that belonged to the inebriated and joyful. We rubbed shoulde

-2012,  After reading an Article on BBC as how Indian Brides were battered in some regions. My eyes were puffy with a trace of wetness around the lids. I blinked back tears that suddenly threatened to overcome me. The news had obviously cast a gloom over the entire family. I have been moping around the house ever since he had committed suicide during a hit depression. Nothing anyone did could lift me out of my state of deep shock. In a single moment my fate had twisted; I had lost my husband, I had two mouths to feed and another was on the way. It would be the most difficult challenge in my life, but I knew I had to face it. How was I going to manage; only time could tell. Grief, remorse and depression covered me like a thick choking blanket. I used to feel so wretched after being slapped and locked up by the monster. Ironically now that he is dead I should have been swelling with happiness, but my children’ dark future perturbed me. All the widow lamenting sessions were

Disclaimer: ''Media'' does not englobe the whole Media Spectrum. This article has been written with the contribution of several parties. It has also purposefully been written in the first person although it represents the voices of some. I hate how the media is speculating about things. I hate how they presented the wrong facts. I hate how people instantaneously conjured up possible theories they believed could have been the cause of the incident. I hate how people simply condemn those who commit suicide. And I hate it even worse when my parents tell me I can't change any of these. I'm a teenager and I go to the Queen Elizabeth College.  Great, I must have caught your attention by now. Why not? After all, unless you have a personal grudge against the QEC, you sure look up to this institution. I'm sorry for not putting it as an "all-girls star college". I had rather qualify it as its motto goes: "Not only for education, but also for

Always when this day is wafted to memory, I reckon that it was the least misfortune I wished never to have before befallen me, the week I spent in bed. Inspite of the appeal of the police, exhorting, careful driving, a reckless, wheeling at maddening speed bumped against me. As I had sustained multiple injuries I was urgently conveyed to the hospital. The lapse of time I spent under the roof of that medical institution was punctuated by a series of negative experience. Tasteless food and unfriendly patients hovering around were two of the many features that disgusted me in that general word. The bed was worse than a bed of nails and I would have preferred to sleep on the cold damp floor. No longer being able to bear the boring and non-amicable atmosphere, I insisted that I was allocated a personal ward. It was 9 o’clock in the evening when I found myself alone in my ward after my parents had left for home. The room was shrouded with an inky obscurity as I lay on bed trying to