Legends die. Infants are born. Wars break. New countries make. People fall in love. They fall out of it. Friends are formed, enemies faster. Rain drops. Sun shines. Wind blows. Humidity overtakes. But life, it thrives. It is static, not different from the hour before, not better or worse than the day before.
Each day I look forward to attend classes, because that is the only thing to look forward to of late and all we don’t have nowadays are classes. Friends have drifted; love is yet to come across. The college fest fever is driving everyone crazy, but I feel emotionless, bored, empty inside. Neither do I have any interest in studying nor chatting up with someone. Even my unending zeal for food has died a little due to a recent bout of food-poisoning. Basketball doesn’t entice me; I have no company agreeing to an adventure. I finished a book in a day, one of my fastest reads probably- “Delhi is not far” by Ruskin Bond. I was utterly disappointed for the first time with Ruskin Bond. Now, I don’t fancy reading another book. I sit, staring at the thousand pictures that my roommate has pasted on the wall facing me. I study the intricate patterns of my bed sheet. A strong breeze outside is swaying away all the dustbins along the corridor of the hostel. Leaves fly in whirlpool-like pattern. Dust hazes my vision as I step on to the verandah to enjoy the storm coming. But the wind subdues and all I observe is a lull and clouds hovering above.
For a moment, I consider photography as I glance at the bright red Simul trees at a distance. But I think, “Oh well!” as everything else seems so unattractive. A dilapidated bus below, the scrawny trees with their dry leaves, the smoke from a remote chimney polluting the environment all seem not so ‘capture-worthy’, if that’s a word. It’s raining now and I’m in a very pessimistic mood. All my hopes for discarding warm clothes in anticipation for a dying winter are down the drain. The cold creeps in again.