September 9, 2004

I think I am being bossed by a lot of people . . ..

We were having lectures from the lecturers and one of my friends committed the mistake of whispering to his mate. The next moment the hall exploded with the sound of severe tongue-lashing. One thing that the reader needs to understand is thy type of situation under which I study. 40-50 trainees to the class mixed with inadequate fooding made even the most pious of us, liable to the slightest irritation. Thus it was with mixed feeling that we received the early morning toast. ‘You are a bunch of animals’, ‘ . . .. Illiterate people. .’, ‘Gundas’; these type of words break our hearts, and me with my own personal problem to my disposal I felt like retaliating but I couldn't do so. I was a student and she was a teacher. How can a student stand up and go against the teacher? That is how much we respect them. And this was also how the teachers exploited their freedom, especially this teacher.

So now I was sad and I decided to go on and blog. I went to the Computer Lab and opened a MS doc. And started to type with my fingers, my mind in a trance and my jerky typing making a lot of sound in the otherwise still room.

I am reminded of yester-night’s rain. I had been to Sherub’s (my friend whom we call ST Fox) until mid night, smoking and playing card, and later back in the room I had tried to sleep but sleep eluded me so I got up and made a cup of coffee. My roommates were snoring the night away. I was in to the second sip when the lights went off. I thought that some one might have fiddled with the main and went out to look but it was not the case. The soft mist chilled my bones in the otherwise hot night.

Then it started. The low rumble in the hills. It kind of reminded me of the Baghdad bombing by the US forces a year ago. There were sudden flashes, but the sounds were muffled in the drizzling night. I was in the room within no time and wearing a sweater over my shirt, I went to the window to shut it. The light drizzle of the night was forcing its way into my room through the wire gauze in the window. As I was pulling the window shut, the muffled noise of the thunder still in the horizon, I saw my mate Lapex (whose real name is Tshelthrim Palden) peering from below the sheets and uttering a word of warning.

“Don’t hold your had to the Iron railing of the window, you might be struck by the Lightning”.
With a subtle thanks I closed the window and huddled down on the bed. I was wondering what damages this night’s storm might do to people across the kingdom, and across regions. . . . ]

But now I am in a better mood because I didn't see my friend today and I haven’t heard from my girlfriend for the last two weeks. May be she is waiting to spring a trap on me.
Maybe . . . she doesn't love me anymore . .
Maybe she . . . . .
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