Crap

P.s. i don’t usually swear, but then, i am prepared to make exceptions under exceptional circumstances. anything for the sake of yours truly.

It’s probably a universal law.

If thou art a freshman, thou shalt drive yourself (or, be driven by yours truly) to do jobs that a lazy-[censored] of a senior took up, but is too dumb to accomplish anyway.

And while i don’t relish it, i have come to terms with it. I find nothing wrong in it. To a limit, that is.

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It took but a moment to kill.

He was a senior. Well, in terms of age, not very much so. But acedemically, yes.

It’s funny how they interpret Senior as infinitely Superior. Pity.

Senior. And one of the first i’d met since i’d arrived here it IITG, almost half an annum ago. Not really extraordinary in any directly perceivable sense. Even then, i found shards in his persona that gave me immense hope. Hope, that he would not turn out to be yet another pointless existence. I must admit that i’d initially longed for us to be friends.

But soon it dawned on me: Senior.

No matter the fact that we were about the same age. No matter the fact that we shared some common traits. No matter the fact that both possessed a common passion. No matter the fact that we wouldav been more than just peers (please, i am straight; control that imagination of yours) had we been introduced elsewhere. The plain fact that the society (yea right!) prevalent here normed otherwise, and the fact that he had no qualms in going-with-the-flow, established that our interactions would almost always be devoid of exceptionals.

He came across a silent fellow. I use the italicised words to clarify that this is what i observed. It might as well have been the visage he put up. His persona.

Persona: The aspect of a person’s character that is presented to or perceived by others. (by definition)

They wise say that one is perceived as smart, until the instant one opens his mouth. He was a silent fellow. Maintained his silence, and spoke only when spoken to. Let the others talk. And observed them while they did so. Observed. That, above all, was his one quality that won my admiration. My respect.

Everyone has failings. And endeavours to keep them secret. For, when they emerge unbound, they endanger all that we have struggled to build. Endanger our image. Our dignity. Cripple our personae.

It all took but a moment to kill. The porch i set him upon was shattered.

Senior. He got carried away. Began to believe that he was superior, and that it was his right to see me bow before him. I’d respected him. Respected his silence. They say a man is great so long as his lips stay sealed. How true. Because, for the one time he bowed to his predicament, i realised that he was but despicable. Pity i judge IITians based on their ability to appreciate talent and not just idol-worship their own.

IIT, Guwahati. On the banks of the Bramhaputra.

It is winter now. The lush surroundings yeild to a chilly frost come daybreak or dusk. Pullovers and sweaters, even at noon are quite the fashion. Migratory ducks amass on the swamps like antelope on the savannah. Robins, drongos, mynahs, doves, storks and many others i can’t possibly name; dart about incessantly. There’s a lake beside my hostel. A majestic eagle swoops down onto a fish as i cycle to class. There are hills beyond the street that drives by my room. There are trees whose silhouette in the mist compels me to stand. And stare. And stare.

It’s cold. And it just began to drizzle. Yeay.

Dad and me may pay Everest a visit in May’08. It’s not certain (not in the least), but a plan is being made. Here’s a bit on what i feel about the whole arrangement.

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Blank verse.

Blank? Can’t have a qualification more inept than that.

Blank verse is the one truest form of poetry. Uninhibited. Pure. Never calling for the poet to play around with rhythms and such extravagances. For, poetry, as an expression of the deepest of emotions, has a rhythm of its own. It appeals to anyone and everyone that shares in his bosom, the poet’s own emotions…

Success. Joy. I doubt i’ll ever make a composition as simple, and wonderful, again. B’coz i doubt i’ll ever hate myself as poignantly as i did then.

Success. Joy.

Twas not so far ago,
I was what i wanned be.
If i were to look back
On myself
I’d smile,
O those was the days.
No wont, no need,
Yet, such a fine stead.
Tasted success so young,
It poisoned my veins.
Today, sunk in vanity,
I look to but weep.
But tears won’t flow,
Ebbed by a resolve to resurrect,
That which i oughtta be.
Stand upright once more,
And look back to my time.
This time i look to earn,
What was once mine.
Success. Joy.

Sometimes, i sit up and wonder whether i’ve done anything worthwhile since i wrote the verse (which, by the way, i did in april,’07). And then i realise that i’ve actually achieved something i had not expected, or, for that matter, wanted. Yet, i choose to make the most of it. Play with my destiny (if there ever was a thing such as destiny) by my own rules.

I knew nothing. Whether acquaintances, friends, buds, or elsewhat. But everytime i’d seen them pass by me, i’d smiled. And they’d smiled back. I’d made-believe that they were friends, no matter what people told me, no matter what it may have actually been. Coz i’d hoped that’d i’d someday possess a friendship, such as the one i believed they had.

My walks, i like to hope so, have come to an end. I just hope theirs’ don’t.

Random thoughts on the We Care initiative launched by IITG. And there’s a nice li’l verse to go with it too…

IIT. Indian Institute Of Technology, Guwahati. That’s where i am currently a student. Recently, they initiated ‘We Care’, a venture through which the students will lend themselves to the cause of bringing joy into not-so-bright lives. An honest attempt at doing good.

Here’s what i’d composed for the same:

She sat there everyday. And he’d gifted a rupee to her bowl daily, for as long as he could remember. Yet the lens-man never saw even a flicker of a smile on her time-ravaged face, save for the one day when he’d pointed his camera at her, and told her that she’d be on the papers the day after.

No one could have surpassed her glee…

Joy is not what we have, it is how we give. A few words, a gentle smile, an ear lent, or simply a hug; often, these can light up a person’s life in ways that a million dollars can’t possibly. And whoever said that you need to be extravagant in compassion? Hence, we embark on this journey, which we’d like to call ‘We Care’, because, we genuinely do. Whence IITGians walk the halls of fame, is it not our duty to lend to the world, our support, no matter how modest, so as to spread a smile or two?

Not a boast, not a blab, and not in the least a selfish endeavour . This is IITG reaching out, for all those that feel deprived.

An orphan needs not a flashy toy,
He longs for a kiss, for care.
The aged need not solitude,
They wish someone be there.
Aids won’t heal if they’re alone,
A pence wont buy a severed leg.
Don’t leave a man in agony bare,
Imagine, if ’twas you there.

Success is hollow, if we can’t do as little as spread love.

Ironically, i’d composed the article so that it may be printed in the brochures that market the Techno-Management Fest of IITG, Techniche2008. Is ‘We Care’ even remotely associated to the underlying theme of the fest, or is yet another noble deed brandished to market and publicise? In all fairness to the organisers (and, i hold atleast one of them in exceptionally high regard), ‘We Care’ is an IITG initiative and people need to be made aware of it, and the fest is the one best method for the same. I can not agree more (on the awareness aspect of it).

They say a brilliant salesman can sell you anything. Well, did my article sell you the idea that this was, indeed, a serious attempt on my institute’s part at doing good? Then yes, i am a brilliant salesman.