March 11, 2010

That time of the year...

It is again that time of the year when an exam is not just around the corner, it is less than twelve hours away from being in your face.

I am yet to grasp the higher meaning of the words that fly around, though I have grasped the weight of the reader they reside in. It is very heavy.

I have been trying to look for notes of classes I may have been physically present in, and I have found in them much proof of the fact that the mind knows no barriers, page margins or geographical. Last semester, staircases fascinated me, now silhouettes and maps of Marine Drive are commonplace. Also, my skewed, biased, selective memory has again come to the fore – I don’t remember any of the classes I seem to have attended (credit this discovery to another newfound obsession: dating notes), but I remember what I was doing every time I have missed a class, in excruciating detail. It seems I went to Khajuraho, shopped till I dropped at the World Book Fair, slept, slept some more, washed my hair, watched innumerable dance performances, slept still more, when I could have watched my pen fly across paper (autopilot) in class.

But this is not to say that being in class is boring. The creative academic process pushes the boundaries off the edge (and us off the boundaries) and we always excel. Sample the following.

Reflections about and during a boring class

Darken classroom. The steady whir of the projector is conducive to sleep. As are all methods of vocal monoton(e)-ality.

Going to the toilet is a source of much entertainment. You rediscover leaking cisterns, watch with awe as the tank fills up, then beginning to leak, before you flush it all out, your ears relishing the sound of this gurgling mountain stream.

You splash water on your face, washing cold drops trickle down and dampen the rim of your sweater. You place a droplet on your forehead and let it make its way down till it ricochets into the washbasin with a trickle.

Creative urges expended, and temporarily suspended, I return to the dark world.