Back again. Yes, I know you noticed. I also know you are not surprised. After all, who leaves a blog to rust and dust after two posts (Did I hear an ahem from LL?)?
News updates include a trip to the financial capital of this country, which, for the fifteen who went, translates as the ‘masti’ capital of the nation, and, indeed, of all Earth. Pigs drank, dogs smoked, sundered hearts talked for extended hours on the phone with pining quadravalves a thousand miles away, but all ate and were merry. Horizontally challenged parvenus and the pilgarlic beings dropped in to ease the pecuniary burden incurred off us, and we hailed them as the true avatars of Bhai Parmanand.
Back home, the usual jest of ‘treacherous Raps’ made its quotidian rounds for the rest of the week, and all went on in good humour. Only the impending exams could put off the obvious celebrations that should have followed. That, and the fact that we achieved little more than what our hedonist impulses directed us to. The lure of the green bill was snatched by more powerful fishes, some by little more than half an inch. And so we came home, empty handed, to a delicious lunch at the other great city on earth, before proceeding to our home for the last three years.
I miss those days. Just five wonderful days of joyful abandon, relived only through pictures now. Five days- a working week. The sort of time we’ll probably never get again. The sort of time we’ll be milked in in the near future. Lefty asked me if it is about fun. It is not so much about fun as about what I’ll miss. I still maintain that it is his roseated vision that has worn off rather than a change in my countenance. But this time I have good reason to be sullen. And the kids! I have always liked the kids in the group, but this is when you realize how much they actually mean to it. The heart and soul, the very core is composed of these tyros, who, till recently, were relegated to checking the answers by themselves.
The wise old friend who turned up acknowledged us when he introduced himself. It was lovely to hear him call out our insti name on stage. It tells you how close we really are. Even the grouches like me. We are certainly not family, but heck, a family is not about closeness.
I have to go sulk. As usual, I have more than one reason for doing so. As usual, I’ll add that the post has nothing to do with the current bout of melancholy. Feel free to comment or add untypable material in the comments section. You see, here, what kids don’t know can’t hurt them.