AN 'EXPERIMENT' GONE WRONG!

I am not a science expert. In fact, I’ve always been scared of physics and chemistry. I had a tough time learning chemistry. My teacher and my mom used to tell me, "Anything learned practically will stay in your mind for a long time." So, I thought of learning physics and chemistry practically. I started experimenting with everything I could get my hands on—a screw, magnet, water, salt, spoon, egg, and even nail polish!

One fine day, I was trying to apply nail polish, but it had dried up. I couldn’t get the polish out, so I decided to heat it because I remembered that we heat wax to melt it. I assumed nail polish must be made of wax too! Since my mom didn’t allow me to play with fire, I secretly stole a matchbox and went outside to experiment.

I lit a matchstick and dropped it into the nail polish bottle. The flame went out instantly! "Ah! I discovered that nail polish doesn’t have oxygen! What a great discovery! I’ve become a little scientist!" I thought proudly.

I immediately called my friends, sister, and mom to show them my "discovery." I burned another matchstick and dropped it into the bottle. Again, the flame went out. Then I gave some silly explanations and tried it one more time. To my surprise (and horror), this time, the matchstick kept burning!

Everyone started scolding me, and I felt so ashamed of my stupidity. I quickly realized that my "scientific experiment" was far from accurate. That day, I learned what nail polish is really made of—and that experimenting without knowing the basics can backfire!

I understood an important lesson: nothing should be half done, and nothing should be half learned. From that moment on, I made an effort to learn things properly and understand the real concept behind every action.

Even now, whenever I think about this incident, I can’t help but laugh… at my "interest" in science!

Originally posted on 15-Sep-2010 Edited on 09-Feb-2025

Comments

Tomorrow, My Morning Coffee Will Taste Different

It’s been three weeks since we moved to Vadodara. Every morning since, I’ve unknowingly built a quiet ritual—coffee in hand, eyes on the sky, watching planes take off from Vadodara Airport, which I can see clearly from our balcony. There's something calming about it. Hopeful, even. A small moment of stillness as the world begins to move. But today… today was not like the other days. Around noon, news broke about the Air India crash at Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel Airport, Ahmedabad. And everything I felt in those quiet, breezy mornings shattered into something heavier, more fragile. It’s strange how suddenly a routine can take on new meaning and how quickly something comforting can start to feel ominous. My husband used to be a frequent flyer to Ahmedabad in the months before we settled down here. I was right there at that same airport with my dad and daughter, barely three weeks ago. I still remember my first visit to Ahmedabad and I wasn’t particularly excited. It felt temporary. ...

Journaling: A Habit That Became a Lifeline

Journaling has been an inseparable part of my life for over 20 years—almost as natural as brushing my teeth or taking a bath. It’s more than just a habit; it has become an obsession. Every day, I capture my thoughts, emotions, and moments, pouring them into the pages of my diary like an old friend who never judges. Growing up, I was an average student, often overlooked in school and college. My parents weren’t the most supportive, and humiliation became a constant companion, especially in front of family, friends, and neighbours. But amidst all of this, my diary remained my refuge, my safe space, and my most loyal friend. During my school and college days, my diary listened when no one else would. It never ridiculed or belittled me. It saw my laughter, my tears, my struggles—it even stopped me from making drastic decisions at times. If not for my diary, I don't know how I would have survived those years. Reliving the Past Through Old Journals Back then, my diary held stories of joy...

June 15: The Day I Buried My Mother and Met My Daughter

Eleven years ago, on this very day, our family grieved all over again. My mother passed away on May 8, 2015. While the initial rituals were completed within a few days, one final responsibility remained. Since she had been cremated, we decided to take her ashes to our ancestral graveyard, where my great-grandparents and grandparents were buried. On June 15, 2015, we laid her ashes to rest. Along with them went her favorite sarees, her notebook, the pen she always carried, and several belongings that had been a part of her daily life. As we buried those ashes, it felt as though we were saying goodbye to her all over again. Her ashes were the last tangible reminder we had of her, and letting go was not easy. Six years later, in 2021, I was pregnant with my daughter. My due date was June 7, 2021, but God had a different plan. Days passed, and there were no signs of labor. We waited and waited. By June 13, I had crossed 40 weeks, and labor was induced without much success. On the night of ...

Maithily's Scribblings

Search This Blog