The Existential Hiatus

That was one long occlusion that was omnipresent, whose existence was in the absence of myself. Since the commencement of the formalities before the valediction ceremony that lasts five days, back to back events, which seek to delve into our stealth to conceal the sprightly joys in our bottoms, the non-audible ones, mind you. The whole vibe that many of my conscientious well-wishers, may conjure up is that the events our subjects and the valediction better known as the 'majors' in some fellow abbatoirs, here we regard them with a venerable abridged phrase, 'end-sems'. The whole camaraderie started from 12 April itself, with the whole thousand strong commonality running in circles on the dazing fancy footwork of their senile but surreal in their chicaneries, who in the end, make you stand at the same square from where you started.

As the mass hysteria began, I could not help but abstain from all the hullabaloo, very well aware that this mayhem would be the only largesse that our authorities will show, a gratuity resembling a certificate that this lexicographic bipedal may be professed as an engineer. My Degree. Those days portrayed the whimsical authorities to their best pococurantism. With mates running around the place painting it yellow, the deadlines just wont stop. Notices to follow deadlines, garnished by more deadlines to meet the previous deadlines. Some of the more pragmatic pedagogues had their charter of demands up and in time. When you are called to a prof's house and if you are from a seminal and a prime spot on the map of India, take Delhi for an instance, you are in for a game called waiter-waiter, and of course you play the waiter. Give them what they want, and you will get what you watch the populace go ga-ga over. Thought, I respect that thoroughly. Even they are aware of the ineffectual and futile bibelots that they follow, or are rather happy to do so. The more respectful ones, who atleast gauge the stature of their coeval ululations in the eyes of a haggard and largely nonchalant student, realize it first hand the bootless concern we all maintain. And so the mafia way of things is incorporated. Yeah, the mafia. (The author's visage is currently a painfully contorted DeNiro)

After storm which wasn't preceded with the quintessential lull, like it passed with the victims or more veritable preys, were more than happy to face the hard rock, atleast the simulacras of abhorrent Bappi Lahiri would stop. Our ears were already bleeding. On the penultimate day to the departure, there was a subconscious shrug on everybody's expressions. We had already started bidding adieu to each other when we returned to our hostels that day. Like saying under our breath, "See you again, but I am not that eager alright!" With a haste unseen to their ownselves yet, they started piling stuff, literally sitting on them to flatten them down, and disposing the crapulous mass into their cupboards and trunks. I was one proud member of the mayhem, but rendering my characteristic choler to the blithe affairs, I was packing till the last second before boarding the cradle to freedom, the heavenly auto-rickshaw! With six of us along with their baggages stuffed into the vehicle, we smirked at each other's composure to accomodate. Perhaps, we were too involved in the near future than what buffonery ensued in the present.

Now that I am back, back again, back strong, not all the same although, there is a Nicholas Cage animation a la City of Angels, to stand on the tallest building in my locality and jump to be imbued into the urbane noise that soothes your soul, the white noise that would be nothing short of a chopper hovering back their in the abysmal locales of the graveyard I am on a sabbatical from.
Looking forward to your cynosures...
Ravi