Today i awoke with a rock of pain settled at the base of my head and neck, talk about how yesterday's can influence the today's and tomorrow's.
It was an odd day yesterday, final jury always marks the end of a phase, concepts, ideas, drawings, idocyncrasies, stupidness and what-nots. Somehow i was sure it would go well for the class as a whole, its always how things are supposed to end. All the brickbats are thrown at us in the course of the semester and eventually most of us work our butts off for the last leg of the project so it makes perfect sense for it to go well. But alas, the downside of optimism jumps out at you from a dark alley when you're least expecting it.
I felt stripped, helpless, repeating on and on what I'd said to myself for the last whole month, the importance of my project to me, they seemed unconvinced and i tried in vain to establish my case, twice i lashed back like a furious tide but ebbed in diffidence as i saw forces stronger than me subduing my worth. Obviously i placate myself saying that it's always the unresolved things they talk about, but a part of me knows it never reached them, the hesistence i saw when a pencil lingered for a second longer on the column where my work was being reduced to two numerals that would compartmentalise me in relation to all the loves, hates, contradictions, edges, respites, interphases, et al.
On the whole, it was terrible as always. We pretty much are a lost cause. Some of us try, but its just not good enough, never good enough, maybe we'll scrape through and find a comfortable place in mediocrity, maybe that is all we're capable of.
That aside, all the shame and remorse really got the better of me and i yelled my lungs out at some old couple trying to watch "what's your rashee?" in peace because they complained that we were making too much noise, I don't blame them, we are pretty good at masking unpleasantness. I'm sure they didn't sense all the misgivings beneath the hollow laughter and I couldn't believe they were taking that away from us.
Hopefully this shall pass too.
I finshed reading "The Sister of my Heart" by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, lovely fairy-taleish narration as two women battle demons and dungeons to find eternal rainbows only to reveal mythical palaces that dissolve to dust rendering them helpless and in search of the sword of light to banish the darkness of their worlds.
I enjoyed it thoroughly, fantasies being tickled once again in my oh-so-stuck-up life of so-called practicality.
No comments:
Post a Comment