You wake me up in the middle of the night and give me a dream to follow.
I once used to chase dreams like a little boy chases butterflies – with joy in his eyes, jumping over the rocks in his path with ease – until my innocence was stolen and the world became ugly.
The dream you show me stirs me up. I don’t know if now’s any different, but I will take it. Chase it against the setting sun and the puffy clouds and alpine forests. As long as it will keep me alive. This dream.
Wrote this a looong time ago, after a long stint of exams. Reproduced from a document with amendments.
* * *
· A day is an infinitesimally, shamefully small unit of time.
· Never discuss your progress in revision with anyone but your study partner (if you have one). Else, you will have people dishing out advice from all directions, beginning something like, “Tu abhi bhi Paper II hi kar raha hai?”
· Mnemonics. Make good ones, but let them be easy to remember. You shouldn’t have to invent another mnemonic to remember one. Yesterday I heard one beginning ‘Teri…’ Naah, I won’t forget that one.
· Poetry and undergraduate Pharmacology are highly incompatible. You could even say they’re mutually destructive.
· Inside the examination hall, when you want the guy in front of you to shake the bench a little less, feel free to tell him so. But make sure the proctor hears what exactly you’re telling him.
· In a viva voce examination, take the examiner to some territory you’re familiar with. If there’s nothing there, practise a nice pitiable face. Also wear an immaculate uniform including a pressed apron and polished shoes. Just in case.
· Study a lot. Learn a lot of small details. But don’t forget – in Heaven’s name – what a rabbit looks like and how it’s different from a Guinea Pig (No, it wasn’t me).
One of the many things that keep floating in my head and are then converted into scribbles on paper. Posted it in a Comment on Vasudha’s Blog the ther day.
Rights and Wrongs are majestic concepts. They are independent of time and space. They hold good for any age and any nation and any person. They are the compass needles and signposts which tell people of the right directions to take in every situation. They are infallible concepts. In other words, they are too good to be true. Too utopian, too romantic, to actually exist.
The end of an evening argument with a friend:
X: History repeats itself.
Y: Repetition is redundancy and redundancy is substandard. I’m wont to think that the story of man is anything but substandard, and that we’re capable of more than just going about in circles. Ergo, the adage about history repeating itself is a gross generalisation.
Tagged by Awais, hence this:
Eight peculiar things about me:
1. I don’t like public chatrooms.
2. I have a notorious history of getting attracted to things / people I know I can never have.
3. Most of the time I suffer from euphoria and an unbound zeal for life. The rest of the time I am depressed bordering on suicidal. I seldom settle for anything in between.
4. I don’t believe in idols – stone, human, or otherwise.
5. I’m a medical student, and also like to call myself a writer. Many of my high points in literary inspiration coincide with my exams, with obvious results.
6. I don’t watch cricket, I don’t read thrillers, I don’t listen to rock music, and I don’t like big parties. So far from the modern ideal.
7. I wander alone in the middle of the night within my college campus and without, talking (aloud, often) to the stars and trees and flowers, or more likely these days, getting drenched. (You do realise medical colleges have mortuaries in them, don’t you?)
8. My friends tell me I’m “abnormal.” Quoting their reasons here will annoy prudes.
I don’t find any of these to be really peculiar. And incidentally, I like cucumber sandwiches.
I tag Aditya, Formerlyknownasabe, Shay and you.
Happy family. Perfect friends. Sparkling dewdrops. Scented lilies. Breeze on my face. Painted sky. Chocolate candy. Teeming bookshelf. Admired teachers. City lights. Midnight cycle rides. Universe in a sandgrain. Shooting nerve impulses. Palpitating heart. Wood and bricks and cement.
What’s lacking?
KISHORE KUMAR
Do you know how it feels to love someone ardently all your life, with all your heart, only to know in the end that you are but a compromise in their life? Just a stand in until someone better comes by?
KISHORE KUMAR
kilroykishore 