September 10, 2007

War Time

My life is under siege. It has been invaded by that piffling yet omniscient scourge known as the PHOTOCOPY.

When I returned from dance class today, I brought with me a hundred aches and pains. I was aware of this threat called the exam that was increasingly hurtling towards me with the speed of a Hayabusa, but I was unprepared for the major side-effects in store. Provoked into action by dear Rahila, I decided to take stock of my academic life. Step One consisted of carefully poking under my clothes to check if there were any notes lurking there. Very soon, an avalanche of notes was cascading down from every conceivable direction (and the saddest part is that I yet have to desecrate any of them with the caste marks that are so typical of this religion called education). They were to be found under my bed, in my harmonium case, nestled in my clothes, stuffed behind the computer, in a thousand bags and above the cupboard. A very versatile lot indeed.

I decided to begin with the most forbidding bunch of photocopies, that were all by-products of our editing classes. Our professor there did utter an 'indispensible truism' when she spoke of the pristine norms and mores that kept us away from our 'xeroxes'. Embarking on the monumental task of filing these photocopies, I was soon privy to 'versatile' stabs of pain that poked me all over. Remove earlier staples (pull push grunt groan yell swear kick), punch (with all your might) and file (and then see that tiny rod break and file again). Right now, the result of my efforts rests serenely on the bed, making me feel like I've just completed my doctoral dissertation. Hell, it looks bigger than my Reporting project!!!

That was just one part of the battle. A mound of photocopies patiently awaits me, with cynical smiles playing all over their antaratmas. We thought genes were the next THING. Wait till that cloistered dork from a laboratory meets the xerox machine and its venom.

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