The minute hand climbed lugubriously up the melting face of the clock in a cruel parody of the sweat crawling down her back. Afternoon classes were probably created by the remarkably inventive Chinese as a follow up to their delightful, world-famous, torture techniques.
Around her,fellow students stewed in their own personal nadirs of despair.Some stared blankly at the paragraph they had been asked to edit, and some stared fascinated by the hypnotizing rotations of the ceiling fan. And still others, like her, wondered what misplaced dream had made them opt to sit in class when their very essences called out for release.
'Release'
As the word took form in her congealed mind, a partially awake compatriot decided to participate in class, bringing a few of the others into guilty life. But neither guilt nor duty, nor sheer desperation could resurrect her from her ennui. The words 'paragraph rules' filter through her cobwebbed temporal lobe. Memories of a forgettable neurolinguistics class, embroidered by the reminiscences of the smiling faces of linguistically inclined friends throw a shaft of dusty sunlight into her Broca's Area. Or was it Wernicke's Area? No, it wasn't either of them... Ah whichever. As far as she was concerned, her brain was dying an ignominious death minus even the dubious honour of Yeats' Irish airman. The educational embalming of the lazy Friday afternoon guaranteed that. If Ginsberg wrote today, he'd have found the best minds of the generation rotting away in a classroom.Not that she had any delusions of grandeur, but she knew that around her sat some of the greatest minds of her age.
"Test."
the word brings her back to the static classroom. Release came in the form of a future trial. Ah but that comes as no surprise. After all, freedom is never free now, is it? Grab it while you can and face the consequences when you have to. A test is nothing.
She grabs her satchel and makes a break for the open door, the strings of the ended class trailing behind her flying feet until they catch on to the hinges of the next door closing behind her.
Bharot
-
[image: Bharot]
As was Godot; as is India
As it is all the time
Just as Pakistan and just as China,
And no more does anything rhyme.
Newspapers say after...
2 days ago
9 comments:
Atomic, u write so well man; then why go and throw it all away with
"Memories of a forgettable neurolinguistics class, embroidered by the reminiscences of the smiling faces of linguistically inclined friends throw a shaft of dusty sunlight into her Broca's Area."
You write far far far better pieces. Honestly, you may not publish the comment, but I did not like this piece.
goodness! :)
that was a treasure house of info! u kno, it wud serve me better if u cud possibly include links to each and every detail that u have mentioned here... u kno, like a hyperlink for neurolinguistics, Yeat's Irish airman, etc...
time permitting of course, por favor, me amor :P
NG: What makes you think I won't publish the comment, cher? And thanks for the feedback: a reperusal of the post did impress upon me the need for better editing (the irony being this was doodled out in the middle of an editing class is truly hilarious :P) I shall try to redeem myself in your eyes comrade, until then let the foibles float in cyberspace.
Anush: Lol! It has been an info-packed week. Will add links or try and provide a glossary wherever necessary :P
one mud also dint understand
if u cud possibly film my reactions while reading wat u linked, u cud send it to world funniest videos...
i had to listen to "enna thavam" by sudha ragunathan to get back to sanity... dont u dare pull somethn like this again on me... sollitaen... :P
Anush: Hey I have to have something to show for my education :P
Sorry saar, inime' ippidi panna maaten :P
was the pun on 'minutes'intended?
Liked the thought-link between 'greaTEST' and 'test' too:)
My sympathies, and I'll never tire of reminding you that you CAN escape the academic torture (looks with hope)
MM: Yay you got the pun! :D was trying to get the whole thought-reality connect thing happening. and these are but small bumps on an otherwise exciting journey- why escape it when you can conquer it :D
Dear god, I remember those 2-5 pm editing classes. For some reason, the room she took our classes in always reminded me of Shelley's "Ozymandius" - why I can't say.
Your writing is brilliant! And partly the inspiration for me to blog again.
x
- Deepti
Deepti: The Ozymandias connection probably stems from the utters ruins of your intellect at the end of such classes :P
And I'm incredibly flattered that you would consider me an inspiration for anything! Generally all I inspire is annoyance :P
Am so glad you started blogging again. :)
Post a Comment