It’s a boring day today; I am almost on the verge of getting drowned in the boredom of regularity that I surpass everyday. And there I am back with the thoughts wandering over my mind. The expression that I cherish the most is to write of what I think, feel and all those obnoxious emotions which creates a zombie out of me and I am person different of the regularity that I follow. A split multiple personality disorder hits me. I am not the one you know.
Why do I write? This question is lingering on my mind. Interesting question and shall surely be answered. I wander through the green pasture of thoughts. I had recently read this book named the Women and Men in my life by “Khuswanth Sigh”. The way a person has professed the significance of the people in his life. I like the very thought of writing for someone, its more of concentrating on a person and burning his qualities to smoke so as to enable people to know the smoky presence of the person in your life and the intoxication.
Just the way my writing goes I remember my school days and more appropriately my English teacher. Some months ago I learned that she no more belongs to the world of living mortals. I still remember the way I was shattered in my English period, Geeta mam always had a point to raise me up and put me a heinous situation. I had no other option then to be a victim to the exceptional fluid of knowledge that she sprinkled over me. She almost made me feel like a pest in the lush green farms, the only reason for the meteoric destruction for the class.
Grammar was something which I hated the most. I cannot forget the match which I had with Geeta mam in 8th standard. I was on the batting end I had to score 35 marks to win the match and I was left with 2 balls in hand. I pulled off my socks and got ready, she came running from Garware end with the spur of moment I moved myself ahead gave a hard hit and the ball landed up beyond the ropes. There I felt like a star and for the next ball, I could gather was a single mark and thus the match winding up to 7/100. I was so drained and after 15 days I had a boxing match with my dad in which I acted like a punching bag…………..there again my dad goes bang!!! Bang!!!! I use to miss my teacher a lot at these hard hitting moments. But as much I can make an effort of writing today its all for a lesson of figure of speech that I like the most. Irony was my favorite figure of speech. Life still stands as an irony.
- Nikhil ©