Saturday, December 18th, 2004. It was the last day of the week at College, and I, as usual, planned to go home for the weekend. It's 3.50 P.M, and I’m all set to board the 4 o'clock bus. My stomach groans. I hadn't had anything to eat the whole of that day. My hostel provides snacks after College hours, and there usually is a 5 o'clock bus. So I thought, why not have something for the road? Little did I realise that this hunger pang would create a lot of problems later that day.
After a quick snack, I went to my room and had a refreshing nap. It was 15 minutes to 5.00 when I woke up. I took my stuff and left for the bus. While handing over my gate pass to the hostel security, a thought flashed across my mind - What if there isn't a 5 o'clock bus, this being a weekend? Nah. There were bound to be people other than me going at 5.00.
Unfortunately, Murphy's law prevailed. "If there are two or more ways to do something, and one of those ways can result in a catastrophe, then someone will do it." I did it. It so happened that there wasn't a single College bus at 5.00. It was either stay at the hostel for the weekend or find someway to get to the city(Chennai) and eventually my home, which was 60-70 Km away from the rural area in which my College is situated. I don't know why all Engineering colleges are situated so damn far away from the city. I opted to go home; somehow, someway.
I walked all the way to the entrance of the College, which is quite far from the bus stand. All I could see from there was a couple of people and rocks. Not to mention a lot of sand. The two people were apparently waiting for some kind of public transport, so I asked hem where they were headed and how. They were going the other way, into a nearby semi-city, by bus. They told me that no bus headed for Chennai would stop here. I inferred that I either had to go into the semi-city with them or go the other way to the nearest bus stand which was about 4 Km away.
Murphy's law again. Dragging my bags along the dusty road, I reached the "bus stand", which was just a bunch of people sitting on boulders, at about 6.00. The worst thing was, none of them wanted to go to Chennai, and a bus stopped only if there were at least 3 people headed for the same destination. I was all alone in about 15 minutes. About 9 buses passed me by, all headed for Chennai, but none of them would stop when I flapped my arms at them. My arms were aching and my hunger wasn't completely satisfied. It would be dinner time soon at the hostel; I couldn't resist the temptation for food. I turned back and headed toward the College. On the way, I saw four of my fellow inmates who were headed for a nearby restaurant. In an effort to help me, one of the guys suggested that I ask the restaurant owner to drop me on his bike as far as he could. I turned down the offer; I told them I wasn't THAT desperate. On contraire, I was. But I was too tired to walk back again. And then, I spotted a bus coming toward me, seemingly slowing down. I didn't care if it was just my imagination. With a heavy bag across my shoulders and a heavier bag gripped by my sweaty right hand (I'm right handed), I leapt into the bus, as "The Hulk" would do. The bus driver screamed at me. Terrorising experience that. Not being yelled at, I mean jumping on to the bus with heavy bags. I've been yelled at a lot, enough to have become immune to it.
Damn Murphy. The bus wasn't headed toward Chennai. The last stop was a place called Poonamalee. The good thing was that there was a terminus there, and lots of buses went to lots of places. I could get a bus there, I hoped.
I had heard my Dad once tell someone that the Poonamalee bus terminus is one of the worst in the state. I imagined it to be a dirty, broken down place. It was worse. Words couldn't describe my feelings upon entering the place, that too around 7.30 in the evening. There was a lot of smoke, and an unpleasant smell of what I concluded to be a mixture of gasoline and alcohol. Eeugh. Had a chat with a guy who was giving everybody tickets, and found out that a bus to Chennai would leave in about 10 minutes. The store there didn't have Pepsi, or any of the popular drinks. I had to settle for a silvery looking liquid in a green bottle which was what the storekeeper called "Sprite 2". I could've been poisoned; I don't know, I didn't care. I was darn thirsty. It's a good thing I drink fast, 'cause as soon as I finished the bottle, the storekeeper got into a fight with another customer, one which involved long wooden two by fours. I got away as quickly as I could, and boarded a bus with a banner "UPTO SAIDAPET". I knew how to get home from Saidapet. I reached the place at 8.30, when my mom called me on my mobile phone and screamed at me for not staying at the hostel when I missed the College bus.
The rest of the journey wasn't as eventful. Unless you count losing my wallet and then regaining it with an additional 20 bucks in it. No idea how that happened. Someone up there, if there is anyone up there, must love me. Arrived at my house at around 10, ate something, and slept.
Well, the second series of internal exams starts this Monday, I hope to do better than what I did the first time. For that I have to study, for which I have to stay away from the computer. It's gonna be tough, but I have to do it.
Friday, December 24, 2004
Saturday, December 11, 2004
You know you've got a lot of work when...
When you can't sleep at nights. Yeah, I've been having that problem of late. Considering that I have to complete my Physics, Electrical, Electronic, Plumbing, Carpentry and Welding records, coupled with enough Engineering Drawing homework to occupy a normal student for a week (It would take me months... It's not difficult, I'm just lazy), one can understand how much my already disturbed mind would be disturbed. If you've ever attempted to squeeze so much work in one weekend, that is.
We had a model Chemistry practical examination on Tuesday. My status as a "regular" student changed to juvenile delinquent when my record was opened by the professor. Despite my efforts, I was forced to write a letter to the Head of the Department of Applied Chemistry, informing him of my "misdemeanour". I wonder what'll happen next. I've made up my mind to at least get my Physics record corrected before the model exam this Tuesday. That gives me a day to get it corrected. Oh boy o boy o boy.
What do you say when a guy whom you barely know comes straight at you and says "Hey! I need some MP3 English songs. When can I expect them?" ??!! I don't know from which unreliable source he heard that I provided MP3s to hostel inmates. He didn't even bother to introduce himself. This happened near the hostel canteen, after which the guy kept following me till my room, waiting for a positive answer from me. I had to act as if I had to go to the restroom to get away from him. What a pest.
The height of irony - You collect cash as a protest against child labour the same day you are forced to operate heavy machinery in unhygienic conditions. That's what I did on Friday. We have what's called as "Basic Engineering Practice", more commonly known as "Workshop". We get to do carpentry, plumbing and the like. Plumbing isn't too bad if you have strong arms; all you have to do is screw, screw and screw. But you can't screw around. It's a bit dirty; you get a lot of oil on your hands. Carpentry is a tad tiring, especially if you can't chisel wooden blocks to perfect dimensions.
I might just fall on to the computer if I don't go to sleep now...
We had a model Chemistry practical examination on Tuesday. My status as a "regular" student changed to juvenile delinquent when my record was opened by the professor. Despite my efforts, I was forced to write a letter to the Head of the Department of Applied Chemistry, informing him of my "misdemeanour". I wonder what'll happen next. I've made up my mind to at least get my Physics record corrected before the model exam this Tuesday. That gives me a day to get it corrected. Oh boy o boy o boy.
What do you say when a guy whom you barely know comes straight at you and says "Hey! I need some MP3 English songs. When can I expect them?" ??!! I don't know from which unreliable source he heard that I provided MP3s to hostel inmates. He didn't even bother to introduce himself. This happened near the hostel canteen, after which the guy kept following me till my room, waiting for a positive answer from me. I had to act as if I had to go to the restroom to get away from him. What a pest.
The height of irony - You collect cash as a protest against child labour the same day you are forced to operate heavy machinery in unhygienic conditions. That's what I did on Friday. We have what's called as "Basic Engineering Practice", more commonly known as "Workshop". We get to do carpentry, plumbing and the like. Plumbing isn't too bad if you have strong arms; all you have to do is screw, screw and screw. But you can't screw around. It's a bit dirty; you get a lot of oil on your hands. Carpentry is a tad tiring, especially if you can't chisel wooden blocks to perfect dimensions.
I might just fall on to the computer if I don't go to sleep now...
Sunday, December 5, 2004
Never ending excitement. Yeah.
What do I do when I have 3 whole weeks to blog about? Well, I blog. In a detailed manner at that. In order, even. Don't bother wondering how I managed to remember all the stuff. Call it a super memory. Call it technology. Call it whatever you want. I aint talkin. No, not even when you beg. No way, not when you fall at my feet (Maybe I would if you would be so kind to give me an I-Pod). Anyway, it's not information worth dying for, is it? So forget it.
Now let's see... Sometime during the 2nd week in November, I get a call from a genius friend of mine. We were in the same school, and now we're in the same college too. His first words are "Ranting Human". Any other person in my position would have shuddered and would have started to stammer. Not me. For I knew how he could have found out.
It was all due to a little comment. Being a blogger, one would say I frequent blogs. And I do. And I happened to stumble upon a blog which interested me because of its name. Upon reading it, I was damn sure it was the blog of that friend. I made the stupid mistake of leaving a comment on the blog, and with my blogger username too. BAM! All he had to do was click on my username to access my profile, see this blog and figure out who it could be.
I came to know from him that there are a lot of bloggers from our College. That fact didn't bother me much, though.
Monday, November 15. I head back to the College and its miserable hostel after my short vacation. I knew I would have flunked in Math. I didn't give a damn. I never did. But for some reason, I couldn't help feeling sick. One by one the other papers came, and I averaged a 75% in all of them. Except English. The one paper I knew I would be happy to receive, the one paper the professors hadn't corrected. I had to wait another day.
It was kinda funny, in a way. There's this guy who sits next to me. We share pretty much the same interests, and have pretty much the same views toward life. He's the only guy in my class with whom I can have an intellectual conversation. What I didn't get to realize is that we don't have the same views toward academics. He turned out to be the top of the class, and I sitting next to him, flunked in Math. In fact, he beat me in every other paper we got that day.
But I had something to live for. The next day, we got our English papers. As I had expected, I got 90%. And my good buddy, the only guy I can have an intellectual conversation with, got 85%. We were the top of the class. It felt good. But I came to know later that 90% is the highest in English in the College. That didn't feel too good. Why? 'cause the only guy with brains wasn't second to me. Just because he had committed an error, not a mistake, an error, which anyone could have done, he wasn't second. It wasn't his fault.
That performance in English brought me some revelations. There were some guys I knew in my College before we enrolled. Most of them usually just said "Hello" and went about their work when they saw me. After the above incident, all these guys started bootlicking me. What a bunch of phonies. I hate phonies, just like Holden Caulfield. Yes, the Holden Caulfield of "The Catcher In The Rye" by J.D Salinger. I read it recently. I'm assuming you've read it.
The next week was murder, I tell you, MURDER! With zillions of records to submit, one can imagine my plight. I was never one to submit record work on time. Or after time, either. My 12th grade Biotechnology teacher once told me that I might have some sort of mental block when it came to writing records. She had good reason to think so, considering the fact that I never got my record corrected. It didn't hamper my grades thanks to my teacher.
And almost every day of the week, this friend who found this blog would come into my class, and talk about it. We had interesting discussions, on blog design, etc. But I didn't like the parts where he nearly leaked out stuff to my classmates.
The 3rd week, i.e., the past week, was okay, but for the fact that my mobile/cell phone started acting up. That meant no free SMS. That meant no intellectual conversations. Damn technology. "It could destroy you, drive you mad. It could set you free." - Max Payne, but not relating to technology. But it fits just fine.
The lack of a phone improved the speed with which I finished library books. I finished both "Airframe", by Michael Crichton, and of course, "The Catcher In The Rye", in 3 days. But I'm still in the process of reading "The Ground Beneath Her Feet", by Salman Rushdie. The College library has a neat collection of Rushdie books. I'm also reading "Step Across This Line", Rushdie's collection of various essays and articles from 1992-2002.
My fellow boarders at the hostel get frequent qualms when they see me reading books instead of doing something useful. I don't know what they're problem is. Whether they're really worried about my future, or just that they're jealous, is a case to be investigated.
Just before I left for home this weekend, my roommate did something. Heard of those electric fly swatters? In a moment of euphoria, I presume, he hit me with one. Boy, did it sting like hell. Did I mention that he was the one responsible for the final blow to my phone? It cost me a 100 bucks to fix it. It would have been fixed for free if hadn't touched it. I'm gonna reclaim the cash from him on Monday. I sure am.
Now let's see... Sometime during the 2nd week in November, I get a call from a genius friend of mine. We were in the same school, and now we're in the same college too. His first words are "Ranting Human". Any other person in my position would have shuddered and would have started to stammer. Not me. For I knew how he could have found out.
It was all due to a little comment. Being a blogger, one would say I frequent blogs. And I do. And I happened to stumble upon a blog which interested me because of its name. Upon reading it, I was damn sure it was the blog of that friend. I made the stupid mistake of leaving a comment on the blog, and with my blogger username too. BAM! All he had to do was click on my username to access my profile, see this blog and figure out who it could be.
I came to know from him that there are a lot of bloggers from our College. That fact didn't bother me much, though.
Monday, November 15. I head back to the College and its miserable hostel after my short vacation. I knew I would have flunked in Math. I didn't give a damn. I never did. But for some reason, I couldn't help feeling sick. One by one the other papers came, and I averaged a 75% in all of them. Except English. The one paper I knew I would be happy to receive, the one paper the professors hadn't corrected. I had to wait another day.
It was kinda funny, in a way. There's this guy who sits next to me. We share pretty much the same interests, and have pretty much the same views toward life. He's the only guy in my class with whom I can have an intellectual conversation. What I didn't get to realize is that we don't have the same views toward academics. He turned out to be the top of the class, and I sitting next to him, flunked in Math. In fact, he beat me in every other paper we got that day.
But I had something to live for. The next day, we got our English papers. As I had expected, I got 90%. And my good buddy, the only guy I can have an intellectual conversation with, got 85%. We were the top of the class. It felt good. But I came to know later that 90% is the highest in English in the College. That didn't feel too good. Why? 'cause the only guy with brains wasn't second to me. Just because he had committed an error, not a mistake, an error, which anyone could have done, he wasn't second. It wasn't his fault.
That performance in English brought me some revelations. There were some guys I knew in my College before we enrolled. Most of them usually just said "Hello" and went about their work when they saw me. After the above incident, all these guys started bootlicking me. What a bunch of phonies. I hate phonies, just like Holden Caulfield. Yes, the Holden Caulfield of "The Catcher In The Rye" by J.D Salinger. I read it recently. I'm assuming you've read it.
The next week was murder, I tell you, MURDER! With zillions of records to submit, one can imagine my plight. I was never one to submit record work on time. Or after time, either. My 12th grade Biotechnology teacher once told me that I might have some sort of mental block when it came to writing records. She had good reason to think so, considering the fact that I never got my record corrected. It didn't hamper my grades thanks to my teacher.
And almost every day of the week, this friend who found this blog would come into my class, and talk about it. We had interesting discussions, on blog design, etc. But I didn't like the parts where he nearly leaked out stuff to my classmates.
The 3rd week, i.e., the past week, was okay, but for the fact that my mobile/cell phone started acting up. That meant no free SMS. That meant no intellectual conversations. Damn technology. "It could destroy you, drive you mad. It could set you free." - Max Payne, but not relating to technology. But it fits just fine.
The lack of a phone improved the speed with which I finished library books. I finished both "Airframe", by Michael Crichton, and of course, "The Catcher In The Rye", in 3 days. But I'm still in the process of reading "The Ground Beneath Her Feet", by Salman Rushdie. The College library has a neat collection of Rushdie books. I'm also reading "Step Across This Line", Rushdie's collection of various essays and articles from 1992-2002.
My fellow boarders at the hostel get frequent qualms when they see me reading books instead of doing something useful. I don't know what they're problem is. Whether they're really worried about my future, or just that they're jealous, is a case to be investigated.
Just before I left for home this weekend, my roommate did something. Heard of those electric fly swatters? In a moment of euphoria, I presume, he hit me with one. Boy, did it sting like hell. Did I mention that he was the one responsible for the final blow to my phone? It cost me a 100 bucks to fix it. It would have been fixed for free if hadn't touched it. I'm gonna reclaim the cash from him on Monday. I sure am.
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