If I were a robot and you were a robot and everybody was a robot...
I would open my eyes and walk out of the closet (no need to pay for a bigger room to accommodate a bed!), no rubbing sleep-deprived eyes, no yawning, wide awake just as I had been last night and day and the day before that and the day before the day before that and before that. A quick coat of polish and oiling, followed by a quick coat of paint of the colour listed out for each day of the week.
A quick bite of battery power to charge my cells and out the door I go singing along to the shuffled playlist stored in my head. Automatic shut off of the music as soon as I am within close proximity of the college building. I enter, sit down for class. I don't yawn, stay wide awake and even manage to listen and register every single word spoken by the teacher. Four continuous lectures and I don't even need a stretch.
End of college, head home, sit down to review everything taught and finish assignments. That would be easy enough. Any books to be read would only need to be flipped and every image and letter would be imprinted on my very large digital chip that common people would call a brain. The phone rings, a member of the opposite sex tries to act smart with me, all I would need to do is check my database for his image and character profile and check off the qualities that he has that match the "dream man" list and if he fulfills the criteria that lie within a range mentioned in the database, I continue with a conversation which is randomly chosen by my brain chip out of the many recorded in my memory. If he doesn't, all I have to do is conveniently play a playlist filled with abusive words and don't stop until the call does not get disconnected. If the person is patient enough to listen through the entire list, it would be repeated.
Then a power chord inserted, I walk back into my cozy warm (cheap) closet and end my amazingly hassle-free day.
Life is easy!
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
Memories
Soft nostalgic music, rain pitter-pattering outside, a steaming cup of coffee and an old photo album. That is all that one needs to bring back one's entire past into the present. Life goes on, time goes on. We can never go back to relive the moments that have gone by. Life is always full of good moments and bad moments. All you need is one rainy night and every single one of those moments come flooding back to your mind and tear up your eyes.
Whether it be the glowing toothless face of your baby brother staring innocently back at you, or your mischievous face shyly smiling back having been caught in the deed, a photograph of you dressed up for your first day at school or that day at the beach when your sister and you just could not stop laughing. They may seem insignificant and just about as regular as every other moment in your life but when you sit down and look back, that very insignificant moment may be all that you need to make your day. The whispered conversation about boys at school, the hushed hiding before you pop out and yell "Surprise!!!" at your friend's birthday party, the expression on your parents' face when they receive you at the airport when you go home for the holidays, the smile on your brother's face when you get him a surprise present that he actually likes, the twinkle in your mother's eyes when she played with your baby pet hamsters, the pride in your father's walk when you topped your class...these may not even be present in the form of photographs but they are forever engraved on your heart, etches that can never be wiped away.
Life may not treat you well. You may lose friends, you may not always win the game, but no matter how difficult life is, the only thing you need to get through is a bunch of old photographs and a big enough heart which can be painted with all your memories.
So, stop reading, and start living...
Whether it be the glowing toothless face of your baby brother staring innocently back at you, or your mischievous face shyly smiling back having been caught in the deed, a photograph of you dressed up for your first day at school or that day at the beach when your sister and you just could not stop laughing. They may seem insignificant and just about as regular as every other moment in your life but when you sit down and look back, that very insignificant moment may be all that you need to make your day. The whispered conversation about boys at school, the hushed hiding before you pop out and yell "Surprise!!!" at your friend's birthday party, the expression on your parents' face when they receive you at the airport when you go home for the holidays, the smile on your brother's face when you get him a surprise present that he actually likes, the twinkle in your mother's eyes when she played with your baby pet hamsters, the pride in your father's walk when you topped your class...these may not even be present in the form of photographs but they are forever engraved on your heart, etches that can never be wiped away.
Life may not treat you well. You may lose friends, you may not always win the game, but no matter how difficult life is, the only thing you need to get through is a bunch of old photographs and a big enough heart which can be painted with all your memories.
So, stop reading, and start living...
Friday, September 5, 2008
Teacher's Day
I have never understood the concept of having particular days in a year dedicated to different people. Would you love your friends any more on Friendship Day than on any other day? Well, anyway, today is Teachers' Day. As much as I was against the idea of appreciating our teachers only once a year, I had to co-coordinate a small event for our teachers. Although we had a time of about a week to prepare, we waited until the very last day to actually get down to work. Who are we to wrong the words of some great man who said "Old habits die hard"?
So, with approximately 36 hours in hand, we set out to collect money, order food, order tent supplies, get gifts for teachers, get a sound system, write a decent speech, write titles for each of our teachers, get the juniors to actually turn up for the event, the list was endless. Never having been the most senior batch of the department, I had never actually had so much work to do. The juniors could not do anything right, or so it seemed. Everything they did had to be redone. Every time I tried screaming at them and chiding them for not working properly, all I could do was end up laughing at how my voice couldn't reach even the third row of the classroom while I mentally cursed each and every person who had complimented me on my soft-spokenness. Somehow I actually got people to contribute enough money to reach the required target, with the help of people who could actually speak loudly, ofcourse! By 4:30 p.m. the tent was up and the food was ready. Finally, I thought, I can sit and catch my breath and compose myself for the speech that I had to make at the beginning of the event (which incidentally was scheduled to be 4 p.m). Just as I had settled into my little corner, "Sneha", somebody screamed. Reluctantly as I limped towards the source of sound, I was asked to write a thanksgiving speech for one of my batchmates. Too tired to refuse, I took the paper and pen supplied to me, found a corner, wrote a few lines and handed it over. Just then the teachers started arriving.
I ran to the mic and fumbled to find my voice. After looking for a while, I finally found it. After a little waiting for the teachers to settle down, I started my speech. After that everything was a blur. I don't remember what I said or what I did. Faint traces of running around, holding a mic, clapping and speaking remain. By the end of it, all that I was left with was a feeling of satisfaction and immense gratitude towards my teachers. As much as I may complain, they were the reason I knew everything that I did. Some were more liked than the rest but each and every one of them had in some way or the other taught me something. All I can say is that, I salute my teachers for actually having been able to drill some sense into our thick skinned heads.
So, with approximately 36 hours in hand, we set out to collect money, order food, order tent supplies, get gifts for teachers, get a sound system, write a decent speech, write titles for each of our teachers, get the juniors to actually turn up for the event, the list was endless. Never having been the most senior batch of the department, I had never actually had so much work to do. The juniors could not do anything right, or so it seemed. Everything they did had to be redone. Every time I tried screaming at them and chiding them for not working properly, all I could do was end up laughing at how my voice couldn't reach even the third row of the classroom while I mentally cursed each and every person who had complimented me on my soft-spokenness. Somehow I actually got people to contribute enough money to reach the required target, with the help of people who could actually speak loudly, ofcourse! By 4:30 p.m. the tent was up and the food was ready. Finally, I thought, I can sit and catch my breath and compose myself for the speech that I had to make at the beginning of the event (which incidentally was scheduled to be 4 p.m). Just as I had settled into my little corner, "Sneha", somebody screamed. Reluctantly as I limped towards the source of sound, I was asked to write a thanksgiving speech for one of my batchmates. Too tired to refuse, I took the paper and pen supplied to me, found a corner, wrote a few lines and handed it over. Just then the teachers started arriving.
I ran to the mic and fumbled to find my voice. After looking for a while, I finally found it. After a little waiting for the teachers to settle down, I started my speech. After that everything was a blur. I don't remember what I said or what I did. Faint traces of running around, holding a mic, clapping and speaking remain. By the end of it, all that I was left with was a feeling of satisfaction and immense gratitude towards my teachers. As much as I may complain, they were the reason I knew everything that I did. Some were more liked than the rest but each and every one of them had in some way or the other taught me something. All I can say is that, I salute my teachers for actually having been able to drill some sense into our thick skinned heads.
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