Maybe. Maybe not. But it's close.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Mid-Semester Dilemma Syndrome
Symptoms:
Holi passed by quite uneventfully this year, but it didn’t matter.
Send an “Appy Oli” SMS to all my friends. Some replied, some didn’t. It didn’t matter still.
Had my favourite, bhel-puri on Sunday. Did I relish it? I don’t think so. Worse still, was I possibly blasé about it? Given my insatiable craving for things even remotely spicy and unending loyalty towards culinary delights, I hope I wasn’t.
Slept early on Sunday night. Yet, I woke up a fatigued, dazed Homo sapiens.
Similar events, galore.
Diagnosis:
A public park, somewhere on Earth. A child, unsure of his steps, comes up to his father and starts glancing curiously at a boy walking alone. The boy walks confidently, with brisk steps, towards a place unknown. A black cat crosses his way and scurries away towards the park exit. An old beggar, slouching comfortably on a pavement near the park exit, looks at her pleadingly as she walks away into oblivion, talking on her cell phone, trampling on the ants.
On the same planet, in some Delhi college, I (a resounding applause, accompanied by generous doses of catcalling and appreciative whistling by the front-row audience) was walking towards the college campus. Being a Homo Sapiens, who is, as pointed out by my well-opinionated Civics teacher, very much a social animal, I usually don’t get the opportunity to savour solitary walks. That was exactly the need of the hour, or of the last week or so. So, on my way to the campus, I decided to introspect/retrospect or something to that effect. In that highly contemplative mood, I realized that I was suffering from what I coined as Mid-Semester Dilemma Syndrome (a collective awe from the front-row audience).
Well, lets get further insight of the disease by trying to unravel the origin of the disease. The roots of this illness lie in the education system of India. The twelve annual examinations have ingrained in every school student, a natural tendency to get depressed in the months of February and March. Coming back to a more contemporary context, first minor examinations have just ended (two weeks back, to be precise). Second minors are imminent (two weeks hence, likewise). So, I can’t decide whether I’ve done enough, or a lot still remains. As a result, I end up wasting most of my time either doing nothing or day-dreaming. Should another episode of “Eroes” be watched or some deliberation be done on the applications of acoustic methods? I am confused, diffident. I stammer when I talk, get tongue-twisted. Even I, one of the most ardent patrons of my jokes, don’t laugh at them anymore. As a matter of fact, I don’t laugh at all. I walk with an uncertain, weary gait. I want to sleep all day long.
Prescription :
A more articulate, though outspoken, view would run on the lines of, “I feel screwed up.” Is there a solution to this illness? I am afraid not. I am confused and uncertain, remember? Only time can undo its misdeeds. I am sure that a very vague picture of MSDS (yup, it’s significant enough to get an abbreviation) has been projected through this incongruous, incoherent post by an absolutely befuddled me. Rx.
.....I reached the campus and confronted Troo and El Jo (no, she’s not Spanish) with this sad news. Troo found it to be quite amusing and told me why she dropped Programming Languages (a Computer Science course in my college). She even proposed a possible extension to my theory and merged it with time variables (future, to be precise). El Jo smiled, nodded her head in approval and confided to me that it troubled her as well. Basically, what I want to prove over here is that I am not the only victim of this illness and that, unless proper precautions are taken, it can affect any student. So beware as it might just be lurking round the corner.
P.S. It took me seven days to write this rubbish...and all because of MSDS.
P.S. P.S. It’s imperative to discern symptoms of MSDS from the exalted state of being (or falling, as they call it) in love.
Holi passed by quite uneventfully this year, but it didn’t matter.
Send an “Appy Oli” SMS to all my friends. Some replied, some didn’t. It didn’t matter still.
Had my favourite, bhel-puri on Sunday. Did I relish it? I don’t think so. Worse still, was I possibly blasé about it? Given my insatiable craving for things even remotely spicy and unending loyalty towards culinary delights, I hope I wasn’t.
Slept early on Sunday night. Yet, I woke up a fatigued, dazed Homo sapiens.
Similar events, galore.
Diagnosis:
A public park, somewhere on Earth. A child, unsure of his steps, comes up to his father and starts glancing curiously at a boy walking alone. The boy walks confidently, with brisk steps, towards a place unknown. A black cat crosses his way and scurries away towards the park exit. An old beggar, slouching comfortably on a pavement near the park exit, looks at her pleadingly as she walks away into oblivion, talking on her cell phone, trampling on the ants.
On the same planet, in some Delhi college, I (a resounding applause, accompanied by generous doses of catcalling and appreciative whistling by the front-row audience) was walking towards the college campus. Being a Homo Sapiens, who is, as pointed out by my well-opinionated Civics teacher, very much a social animal, I usually don’t get the opportunity to savour solitary walks. That was exactly the need of the hour, or of the last week or so. So, on my way to the campus, I decided to introspect/retrospect or something to that effect. In that highly contemplative mood, I realized that I was suffering from what I coined as Mid-Semester Dilemma Syndrome (a collective awe from the front-row audience).
Well, lets get further insight of the disease by trying to unravel the origin of the disease. The roots of this illness lie in the education system of India. The twelve annual examinations have ingrained in every school student, a natural tendency to get depressed in the months of February and March. Coming back to a more contemporary context, first minor examinations have just ended (two weeks back, to be precise). Second minors are imminent (two weeks hence, likewise). So, I can’t decide whether I’ve done enough, or a lot still remains. As a result, I end up wasting most of my time either doing nothing or day-dreaming. Should another episode of “Eroes” be watched or some deliberation be done on the applications of acoustic methods? I am confused, diffident. I stammer when I talk, get tongue-twisted. Even I, one of the most ardent patrons of my jokes, don’t laugh at them anymore. As a matter of fact, I don’t laugh at all. I walk with an uncertain, weary gait. I want to sleep all day long.
Prescription :
A more articulate, though outspoken, view would run on the lines of, “I feel screwed up.” Is there a solution to this illness? I am afraid not. I am confused and uncertain, remember? Only time can undo its misdeeds. I am sure that a very vague picture of MSDS (yup, it’s significant enough to get an abbreviation) has been projected through this incongruous, incoherent post by an absolutely befuddled me. Rx.
.....I reached the campus and confronted Troo and El Jo (no, she’s not Spanish) with this sad news. Troo found it to be quite amusing and told me why she dropped Programming Languages (a Computer Science course in my college). She even proposed a possible extension to my theory and merged it with time variables (future, to be precise). El Jo smiled, nodded her head in approval and confided to me that it troubled her as well. Basically, what I want to prove over here is that I am not the only victim of this illness and that, unless proper precautions are taken, it can affect any student. So beware as it might just be lurking round the corner.
P.S. It took me seven days to write this rubbish...and all because of MSDS.
P.S. P.S. It’s imperative to discern symptoms of MSDS from the exalted state of being (or falling, as they call it) in love.
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