The Air Near My Fingers

Thursday, April 26, 2012

You know it's a sad day when "P" for Philosophy changes to "P" for Partying. I've been out more this month than I've lived in my house and spent the kind of amount that exceeds the GDP of Uganda. No offense to Ban Ki Moon, of course.

In this Partying spree, I've managed to fuck many things up- including my finger. On a particularly hungover morning when I was coordinating some crap on clearance slip with half of my class and trying to find my friend in an auto to get to Jamia (to apply for Masters, blah blah), I managed to get my finger fractured. My body moved out of the house but finger decided to stay between the door and was rather reluctant when I tried to run out to look for auto. Alas, purple finger isn't the best when you're less than a month away from exams.

This is when the second blow comes in. Delhi University pushes our exams by a whole fucking week. Which means, we'll be sweating out in June. Fuckers. This was only to ensure that people like me could write IIMC (which I won't clear, anyway). Now, that there's an extension for that by a day, I need to run to that place and rush with the application. With revised date sheet, I've ten exams ranging in less than a month's time and All of them completely determine the course of action for next two years, if at all there's some. No pressure at all. This happens when I'm trying to figure out the entrance date for my other exam. The chances of me clearing any of these entrances are as good as Cumberbatch fornicating me some time soon. Good future plans.

Before we get to the future, dwelling and keeping a record of past should be better. I almost cried on the last day of college. Almost, cause I didn't want to be a tearjerker on the last day and get those snarky remarks on my emotions. I need a guy, as my HoD claims and I will respect her view and strive my best to get one, yes. It must be done. Other than that, she believes that my talents are over a measly prize and that she believes so too. This was written over the gift she got for me- as being a part of the privileged few. I feel honoured. Much more than that stupid parchment telling me how regular I've been. Haha, crap shit. On a slightly convoluted note, I don't want to leave college. I may sound like a hypocrite but of the institutions I've been a part of, this one's been most nasty to me. Which has, in some way brought out the best. I feel this will be missed in time to come. Also, for the lack of better plans post exams in life and otherwise, having college a little longer will be okayish.

I've a deal. First division in return for all that this place has offered me in these three years.

Graduation night was another excuse to waste time and wear a Sari and crib about swollen feet and damned heels. Running paid off. Those who know the back story will smirk. Those who don't will wonder. Good for everyone. After party or conti (pardon my ToI reference) was a dud. Shady, psychedelic laser lights and trance has never been my scene. Especially when alcohol costs you a bomb and pre-gaming didn't work cause there were three of us with two bottles of beer and a driver who was anti-girls drinking and going clubbing. Hotdogs from 24/7 are always the best uppers after such events and they were the saving grace. Plus, I was starving since graduation night dinner sucked dead monkey balls. Even the monkeys from the first scene of 2oo1: Space Odyssey would hate the meal they served us.

If partying, being hungover and coming home after vomiting those nasty shots wasn't a big deal, then this should do it. My mum saw a picture of me, smoking a black cigarette at the after party, post graduation dinner night.
This was after a series of back to back partying for a little over 3o hours and I got home, finally- just to grab dinner and sleep and mum dropped the bomb,

"Since when did you start smoking?"

Uh oh.

Not the coolest thing after you've entered home and she decided to take it out by saying, "I've also read your smoking stories on your blog."


"You've smelt of smoke so many times after you came back home from college but I could not bring myself to imagine you've been doing it."


If that's not it, to bring it to complete comedy of errors style, she begins questioning about a friend's ex who's now dating another friend, with whom I've managed to pose with in a picture. This wouldn't really add up to anything if she hadn't seen me blow smoke rings in the previous shot.

Anyway. I think it ended well. No smoking please. And no more fictionalized pieces and no more posing with friend's boyfriend.

There. Did I cover it all?

Stop shaking your head, would you?

Put your 3D glasses on. Philo girls are outta here.

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