My latest today.Do check out...
Today I am going to be a little offbeat. Maverick, if you may but no; not that much off-beat. But little out of the line and I am going to share with you something of my private life. It's common to many people I am sure and I trust many of you have done it yet it is private to me as that was private to you. I admit it' getting mushy and confusing but once I let youknow what it is , you will connect to it. And here I am not talking about the studious ones but the imaginative, creative square pigs in round holes, the misfits who create their own montage of life. The last benchers who never raise their hands but may as well store the capacity to awe the teacher.The choreographers of surprise.
But before I return to the main topic I must admit, I am here at Kolkata, an it's really very cold tonight. And as my figers are getting stiff I deduce one thing for sure, the speed of writing is directly proportional to the temparature. The less it is , the other is too. (I am not sure about the upper scale though... #facepalm ) Anyways lets cut this bullshit and get straight to the point.(Sounds cool... ain't it.)
You might have understood from the name of the post (Which you just checked again, now) that it has got something to do with a notebook. But what I will tell has got to do with not only me but many of you readers as well (Technically non-readers too). Being a un-mindfull student I doodled at the side of my notebook. And I am sure you too have done hat at some point of tme. When later I turn the pages, now, and the school notebooks reveal all my un-mindfull arts, those make me nostalgic as they bring back all the memories of my past classes, teachers friends and lectures. I wasn't the coolest kid in school nor was the smartest one at college. So whatever I did had to do strictly with me and remained forever so. And if you too ahve doen that at soenm point of tiem you too will understand that those were silly, stupid stuffs that we all carried with us and called them personal.
BUT.. the real stuff was what I did at my last page. And for that matter that second or third last page of the notebook. Poetry, poems, lyrics of all sorts. Stupid, mindless and so rhythm-less that even crows get scared. But nevertheless I would write them and still am used to. Those really transfer to an elegant past. And when I turn the pages as if I am returning to that past. I am sure you too have donethat if you were a back bencher at some point of time. And memories do make you smile. It's such a surprise or shock if you may that we have come so long a way from that time, from that state; because no one I am sure no one of us thought we will. That was my world. That was the time I thought time have stopped for me and that future was the next day or the next week after the tests are complete. Now as I step into the hard cold world and the chilled air pinches me to reality I too feel like going back to my days of doodling; when the last page of my notebook stored some fantasy for me...
Hope you enjoyed this little trip to memory lane...
Untill next time...
Today I am going to be a little offbeat. Maverick, if you may but no; not that much off-beat. But little out of the line and I am going to share with you something of my private life. It's common to many people I am sure and I trust many of you have done it yet it is private to me as that was private to you. I admit it' getting mushy and confusing but once I let youknow what it is , you will connect to it. And here I am not talking about the studious ones but the imaginative, creative square pigs in round holes, the misfits who create their own montage of life. The last benchers who never raise their hands but may as well store the capacity to awe the teacher.The choreographers of surprise.
But before I return to the main topic I must admit, I am here at Kolkata, an it's really very cold tonight. And as my figers are getting stiff I deduce one thing for sure, the speed of writing is directly proportional to the temparature. The less it is , the other is too. (I am not sure about the upper scale though... #facepalm ) Anyways lets cut this bullshit and get straight to the point.(Sounds cool... ain't it.)
You might have understood from the name of the post (Which you just checked again, now) that it has got something to do with a notebook. But what I will tell has got to do with not only me but many of you readers as well (Technically non-readers too). Being a un-mindfull student I doodled at the side of my notebook. And I am sure you too have done hat at some point of tme. When later I turn the pages, now, and the school notebooks reveal all my un-mindfull arts, those make me nostalgic as they bring back all the memories of my past classes, teachers friends and lectures. I wasn't the coolest kid in school nor was the smartest one at college. So whatever I did had to do strictly with me and remained forever so. And if you too ahve doen that at soenm point of tiem you too will understand that those were silly, stupid stuffs that we all carried with us and called them personal.
BUT.. the real stuff was what I did at my last page. And for that matter that second or third last page of the notebook. Poetry, poems, lyrics of all sorts. Stupid, mindless and so rhythm-less that even crows get scared. But nevertheless I would write them and still am used to. Those really transfer to an elegant past. And when I turn the pages as if I am returning to that past. I am sure you too have donethat if you were a back bencher at some point of time. And memories do make you smile. It's such a surprise or shock if you may that we have come so long a way from that time, from that state; because no one I am sure no one of us thought we will. That was my world. That was the time I thought time have stopped for me and that future was the next day or the next week after the tests are complete. Now as I step into the hard cold world and the chilled air pinches me to reality I too feel like going back to my days of doodling; when the last page of my notebook stored some fantasy for me...
Hope you enjoyed this little trip to memory lane...
Untill next time...
No comments:
Post a Comment