Waking of a Spiteful Man: The years we left behind us …

<blink>

I open my eyes, squinting through the blur that threatens to make me fall asleep again.

My head is abuzz with a montage of images from, well, nowhere, it seems.

I am staring at a decrepit old room, and in it, a dull batch-mate with a toothy grin.

“Hi. I’m your roommate”

Wait. Room-mate? I look around me, at the room vaguely reminiscent of the years of engineering that I had left behind. I take a quick glance at the dusty bed that was to be mine, at least for the next year; and then at the less-than-homely room around it … And I sigh.

No, I don’t want to go there …

A wrecked, cracked rooftop emerges – atop an imposing college building, by the looks of it. I see a motley group lounging around, coloured in a birthday mood. They pour some, and spill more – enough to go about. A fresh haze pervades my senses – a little happiness, and much more madness.

There’s broken glass all around, and the roof is laid to waste. Harsh crackling laughter can be heard, punctuating the sharp beats of music that pervade the air.

Strangely enough, there is a measure of peace amidst all the chaos.

<blink>

I rub my eyes. Why won’t I wake up?

I see a small red bulb shining dimly in the distance, amidst the dull thud of music.

The image begins to clear and I see an overflowing ashtray lying on the floor, long forgotten.

There is intense concentration all around, and smoke. A sharp peal of laughter breaks out.

Rewind.

A misty room, not mine, but close enough. A nervous boy sits meekly in the centre, surrounded by lopsided grins. Questions arise, raised by the grinning faces amidst the smoke – and bizarre answers follow … Raucous laughter fills the room. The little boy sits

Time passes and the music grows louder – too loud, is it? A sharp knock follows. In walks a boisterous man – the warden.

The laughter stops and the smoke burns out. The bulb screams …and silence prevails.

<blink>

I try to force my eyes open, and keep them there.

In vain.

The lecture hall fades in. Laborious engineering lectures, like never before – and empty vessels speaking there – and frantic scribbling by vessels, emptier still.

No, wait. I don’t want to go there …

<blink>

I shake my head, as if to pull myself out of this limbo, still groggy.

I give up, and submit to the fresh images knocking at my mind.

Glimpses of a botched attempt at a job; followed by a more successful one. I taste sour grapes in my mouth, and a little bitter-sweet respite after. The end of college is here; the red bulb is back, and so is the music.

Months fly by in a blur.

<blink>

I see flashes of four gruelling years swoosh past me – long nights spent poring over books, ever-so-strict rules being openly flouted, friendships being made and broken …
<blink>

Ah. Now I am awake; and back to the present.

I stare at the clock which screams back at me –‘8:30AM’. I groan and get up, silently cursing PGP1 life.

As I throw on a shirt and get ready for classes, dreading the long hours ahead of me, I think to myself: College. Why am I doing it all over again?

Meh.


Pitty is LSD’s pet pessimist. He wrote this article out of the love he felt for PGP1 in his first few weeks on campus.

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