-A window ajar is a prelude in building to the joy of being limitless! That uneasiness of being familiar somehow, sometime, somewhere.......

Friday, September 16, 2005

Transit Thoughts...

College is like a summer holiday that haunts the later winters of the life.

So with the autumn term lectures on, you could see again those eager unsure eyes focussed on you, trying to religiously devour everything that you hurl.Strange feeling.
Just by looking at them, you could say who had spent time looking for meaning in the lyrics of rock anthems, who's gonna become the environmentalist, who would go on into politics and who would be the reputed art critic. The enthusiasm in the air brought back memories from my life, when I was doing my forensics.

I had gobbled up a whole manual of homicide n ballistics- the calibre, the spin of the bullet the type entry wounds, etc, with the intent to vomit out in the viva which, I nevertheless did, in the sadistic spectacle of that cruel questioning until that last question by the stout professor who asked,
‘Could you tell us what is the cause of death in the decapitation’? Being sure it wasn’t in the book, first I panicked and later tried holding hands of lady luck, ‘Bleeding secondary to severing of main vessels’, I pushed with a smile. So you mean ‘All the blood would flow out...’?

I shamelessly mumbled something about cardiac shock, very well aware that I was the focus of the Kodak moment. Then the bugger made me think for one whole embarrassing silent minute, right there in front of all, until I could think for myself and answer vagal hyperstimulation.

‘Good’ he retorted, and finally consoling ‘Don’t worry its not the junior-term question, actually you did well’.

That was some frigging learning. And now you see it from the other side, you realise how originality and spontaneity is so precious.

Speaking of original unprejudiced view on life, this gentleman- in the picture here on a hardback that I received today, stands like a pillar; precise and content, he ought to be recognised at least by one particular reader here.


Between Uni and such expectant pastime, the winter should be interesting to say the least.

Life, unclassified!

For now friday alcohol beckons !

10 comments:

Rajesh said...

There he is, Perec moshai.

did you snag him outta hardcover?

Originality, is a question of recognition. Looks like a bit of light air coming up in the winter.

.m. said...

I cant see the photo but it was cool reading about your viva--more of this kind of blog for this reader please!

Just by looking at them, you could say who had spent time looking for meaning in the lyrics of rock anthems, who's gonna become the environmentalist, who would go on into politics and who would be the reputed art critic.

can we really? :) Sometimes life just turns out soooo differently.

going to read your reviews--tho they seem too long! :)

. : A : . said...

"College is like a summer holiday that haunts the later winters of the life."

So very true.

Ubermensch said...

Rajesh,
yes , got him right from the hardcover, pardon the challenged camera phone.The book smells of genius,havent yet got around to devour in fulltime.

wbix,
thanks, I was certain you would like it.:)just put that travellig from work, mulling over day's things.
Abt the rest, yes I see what you mean, but Its easier in cultural contexts where variables are less and rsponsibility towards self more.
I must apologise for the pain of the reviews, just dumped them at once!

:a:
thanks

Pincushion said...

' College is like a summer holiday that haunts the later winters of the life.'

Great starting line this :)and I think I agree with wbix, we really can't tell about life, it has a way of out manoeuvring the best of us.
:)

Ubermensch said...

Hey Pinny,
Thanks, life is a miasma, but some generalizations are the planks to tread .
cheers
Uber

.m. said...

i can see the photo now!! :)

Ubermensch said...

Its a black cat!!:)

T.S. Idiot said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
T.S. Idiot said...

"Realise how originality and spontaneity is so precious."

Did I utter that quote during some witching hour, staring out my window, sporatically writing as ideas surface from their depths? Déjà vu... From the taste in books down to the trailing ellipses. Am I a clone? Are you?

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