This is really weird as it feels right now, I am up since 6 for god alone knows whatever reason and its quite pissing off to not be able to sleep again. I don’t know what to do and I decide to check my bloody mail for Christ sakes.
This actually reminds me of those weird days in Nerul where I would either sleep at these wee hours (6 is a wee hour for all practical purposes ok so don’t give me that funny look!) or wake up to study the bare minimal that I would. Funny times they were indeed. Journal work, morning cuppa of chai, the PL tube table lamp, anything-but-cozy bed… oh and the chilling morning breeze of December. If I look back at it now, I never appreciated the beauty of being there with 3 other sorry souls more than I do now. All I remember is waking up with this question lodged in the head like it were a part of the whisky consumed the night before – “why am I stuck in this shit-hole doing what I don’t wanna do?” then there was no answer.
So the typical day at college would begin with the slow thud of steps towards the pot. A shout out for chai to the good old Raju and off we were to the table. The next thing you see when you lift your eyes up from the morning daily, is this lanky (and I mean nothing more than 18 inches in diameter!) figure walk in with a shawl mummifying him. Shoulder-length hair; making him look like a mop used at the airports. “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!” he would say in a volume enough to put the rooster out of business, as he sits down on the sofa (the classiest piece of furniture we possessed). A very interesting question would then come up from this thin masterpiece… “You know what?.....” and then there was silence. After the long gaze at the poster on the wall, he would continue, “it’s too cold to go to college today”.
By then another figure would immerge from the room with the sound of dragging slippers. His voice, a deep sleepy hiss, like it were scraping his throat as he spoke with utmost disgust… “What time lecture?”. “Eight thirty”, I would reply digging my fork into the double-omelet I got the man to prepare. Yes, I would be caught eating quite often through the day; Almost as often as this man cribbing about losing his PC chuddy. This is when soul number three (affectionately addressed as the 3/5thling) would make an entrance. One hand dug in his pajama pocket and a walk which would seem to show as if this fellow hadn’t slept at all. He would walk up to either of us and the first words out of his mouth would be “taari paase taitris chhe?!” or some such comment that you wouldn’t be able to relate to if you tried for three lives back-to-back. After a point, one would get used to it and let it pass. Quaint table talks and the respective tea, bournvita and coffee would be consumed with corn flakes and/or bread slices with butter. Once in a while, it would be ‘2 eggs, sunny side up’ and an occasional Maggi (there I go with the food again, but I must say, it was one of the few promising things) would be the morning breakfast before each headed to their rooms to get dressed for visiting the Alma Mater but once again.
Each day from here on would be a different one but don’t want to go there anymore. May be I can describe it as ‘hell with happy memories’. Somehow, I really don’t mind reliving them. Ya, I don’t.
Here I am, on the road again,
Here I am, up on the stage,
Here I go, play the star again,
Here I go, turn the page.
(Hale Metallica!!)
Wokie dokie, 8:30 now. Need to get back to mundane life. Guess I’ll make some more notes about the fabulous set of experiences at Parimal Appartments more often. I’m sure I’ll have inputs coming in from the incumbents too, wont I?
This actually reminds me of those weird days in Nerul where I would either sleep at these wee hours (6 is a wee hour for all practical purposes ok so don’t give me that funny look!) or wake up to study the bare minimal that I would. Funny times they were indeed. Journal work, morning cuppa of chai, the PL tube table lamp, anything-but-cozy bed… oh and the chilling morning breeze of December. If I look back at it now, I never appreciated the beauty of being there with 3 other sorry souls more than I do now. All I remember is waking up with this question lodged in the head like it were a part of the whisky consumed the night before – “why am I stuck in this shit-hole doing what I don’t wanna do?” then there was no answer.
So the typical day at college would begin with the slow thud of steps towards the pot. A shout out for chai to the good old Raju and off we were to the table. The next thing you see when you lift your eyes up from the morning daily, is this lanky (and I mean nothing more than 18 inches in diameter!) figure walk in with a shawl mummifying him. Shoulder-length hair; making him look like a mop used at the airports. “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!” he would say in a volume enough to put the rooster out of business, as he sits down on the sofa (the classiest piece of furniture we possessed). A very interesting question would then come up from this thin masterpiece… “You know what?.....” and then there was silence. After the long gaze at the poster on the wall, he would continue, “it’s too cold to go to college today”.
By then another figure would immerge from the room with the sound of dragging slippers. His voice, a deep sleepy hiss, like it were scraping his throat as he spoke with utmost disgust… “What time lecture?”. “Eight thirty”, I would reply digging my fork into the double-omelet I got the man to prepare. Yes, I would be caught eating quite often through the day; Almost as often as this man cribbing about losing his PC chuddy. This is when soul number three (affectionately addressed as the 3/5thling) would make an entrance. One hand dug in his pajama pocket and a walk which would seem to show as if this fellow hadn’t slept at all. He would walk up to either of us and the first words out of his mouth would be “taari paase taitris chhe?!” or some such comment that you wouldn’t be able to relate to if you tried for three lives back-to-back. After a point, one would get used to it and let it pass. Quaint table talks and the respective tea, bournvita and coffee would be consumed with corn flakes and/or bread slices with butter. Once in a while, it would be ‘2 eggs, sunny side up’ and an occasional Maggi (there I go with the food again, but I must say, it was one of the few promising things) would be the morning breakfast before each headed to their rooms to get dressed for visiting the Alma Mater but once again.
Each day from here on would be a different one but don’t want to go there anymore. May be I can describe it as ‘hell with happy memories’. Somehow, I really don’t mind reliving them. Ya, I don’t.
Here I am, on the road again,
Here I am, up on the stage,
Here I go, play the star again,
Here I go, turn the page.
(Hale Metallica!!)
Wokie dokie, 8:30 now. Need to get back to mundane life. Guess I’ll make some more notes about the fabulous set of experiences at Parimal Appartments more often. I’m sure I’ll have inputs coming in from the incumbents too, wont I?
5 comments:
Up your's, you sorry excuse for a pork chop. We have our in house writer, and don't you go messing around without his permission, Oh no you don't! If anybody is giving the inputs, t'll be you, geddit?
'Hale' Metallica, it seems. Hale and hearty yourself!
The bylaws state quite clearly that you must have served atleast 3 years hard labour in a Mumbai University Engineering college to make such sweeping statements. 'Alternatively', they say, 'The concerned parties must be bonafide members of the 'K.T. Club', with a total of atleast 11 KTs across semesters and must have, at some point made a misguided attempt to give more than 13 papers in one semester. '
'Failure to meet the basic minimum standards results in the debarring of said parties from having 'fond memories' and publishing detailed accounts of their brief encounter with life beyond the gap of mankhurd.'
You are of course welcome to provide input to official chroniclers of 'the pachacamac files'
Meta!
That being said...
good one....
may your khakras never crumble
garg, screw you... this is my blog you hear... the in house writer can go take a flying f**k... hale metalicca
Mr. 3/5, guilty as charged but this trial falls under my constitutional rights with regards to appellate jurisdiction... i shall c u in court mr... btw, thanks for the after though ;)
khyats, im glad if i could help. you may refer to this page wen there is patheticness surrounding you... alternatively, u do hav a fone and maybe u still hav my number (if your phonebook aint too full with more imp ppl)... i swear i wont ignore or shout at you for doing the needful.
Hintergrundbilder-wallpapers
yjvb c ? tj 30
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