Wednesday, February 18, 2009


You are woken up by a Maulvi's song dipped in deep devotion flowing into your ears like honey. You go to the hostel's terrace and behold the whole blue world being painted with a small bottle of yellow liquid. Then someone launches rare migratory birds from the heavily thick jungle around as you breathe in and out perfectly according to the instructions of a baba of stomach-game-show fame. You tell yourself - if there exists bliss, it is this, it is this.

And then, my comrade, you have the breakfast. Yes, it is that moment when you would like to thank your parents, friends, and blog readers for their good wishes that you became smart enough to break into the mess at times when you mess around unconsciously in your bed. You have the breakfast which has long been forgotten by your taste buds inspired by Ghajini's killer. And then you pick up your brand new camera and spend some time with deers and birds at the lovely lake-shore, until crows and dogs take over. Some of the street-dogs shout bow bow...insaan, main tera khoon pee jaunga...gurrr and run after you. And as you run for life, you see a Prof who knows you passing by giving you a weird look, completely unaware of your situation. You tell yourself - if their exists bliss, it is this, it is this.

Now that you have had a nice jog in the morning at sufficiently high speed, you come straight to the 9 am class 10 mins early, which is by far your best timing to any class since eternity. Trying to keep the traditions alive, you return to the class 25 mins later, while you read nonsensical blogs in the DCF. The Prof, who happens to be your BTP Guide (Project Totally Bakwaas) welcomes you with - You're looking like a stranger, Apoorva. I can't recall the last time I saw you. Was it in some BTP meeting long back? No, must have been this class in early January.
You spend the rest of the class-time clicking photos of the Prof using your friend's cellphone. Your duty for the day is over and you crash like a MIG-21 at 10 am in your I-don't-have-a-broom room defying all laws of body clock. You tell yourself - if their exists bliss, it is this, it is this.


Everything's perfect. It's your last elec course. And you've attended three classes till date. You didn't bother to get any notes photo-copied. Still, with full confidence, you walk into the exam hall. And the invigilator's distributing two courses' papers. He asks, "Which course? Which course? Which goddamn course?" And you know that you don't know the answer.

Okie that might not be bliss exactly.

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