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Priscilla Priyanka Govind

Lautoka, Fiji Islands

Priscilla Priyanka Govind

When I was in high school, writing was of little interest to me as I was a science freak; my subjects were bio, chemistry and so forth. I had no interest in art or creative writing. But I always kept a diary from my primary years and used to write all sorts of personal experiences and memories.

One day in one of my English classes, our teacher told us to write short stories and essays for our project. I was so excited. When she read my pieces she was impressed and personally told me to write more with the help of proper materials. That turned out to be first script; I wrote the whole book of my personal memory with a bit of a fictional twist. I gave them to my friends and they loved it. That was my first book and the beginnings of an interest in art.

I've written 9 books but haven't published any. I am a now Journalism student at the University of the South Pacific and I am interested in romance writing. At some stage, I wish to explore my Indo-Fijian background to add to this interest.

Excerpt from Making Waves

The Message

Loma Indian School gate

It was a day like any other day; calm, peaceful and the excitement of being a teenager. Little did I know that this particular day would turn out to be a total mind-blowing adventure, besides the fact that being a teenager is mind-blowing.

We had a library class and so our form took over as the rebels of encyclopedia. My friends and I sat down at the far-right corner, away from others. Our library teacher was Mr. Catcus; the most hysterical person in the whole school. He could stare you in the eye and creep you in the 30 minutes class!

As usual he came out from his office growling at one of the students for disturbing his "tea time". At that moment every single human became statue-like and I felt the room quiet as if ghosts were having a silent reading session and Mr. Catcus was the sole dark knight. Anyway, we made hand signals to our friends as conversation and then I remembered that my poetry book was with Lucy; who was sitting to my far-left at a big table. An ingenious idea struck in my mind and I wrote a message to be passed to her.

Classroom photo

My friends got it and tried to open it but Mr. Catcus was moving about, and so it went underneath the table. It was like playing touch and finally it reached Lucy. I tried to signal her but thanks to her absent-minded attitude, the message went around to all the other students and to our sleepy-head Drek. Without paying attention he handed it to Mr. Catcus, whom asked, "What is this"? Great this had to be my day I thought. He opened the paper, luckily I had not written my name down on it. The message was short; it read "Give my poetry book, PS: Mr. Catcus looks hilarious in those glasses". It was this last bit that I presume made Mr. Catcus furious.

Of course when he looked around our eyes were glued to our Reader's Digest. I should have been more careful… ahaa… that was a week ago and if you want to know what happened; well I guess I got lucky even though Mr. Catcus made us all write poetry, no one knew who wrote that message; though I got the feeling Lucy knew something. That was our little secret and I'm glad that now at this very moment Mr. Catcus is not here for our library class, he's absent (maybe he went for a make over) but we have a substitute… but then who knows I might be more careful!