A runner

A runner. He runs his heart out. Every muscle of his body, voluntary or otherwise, knows that. His coach knows that. This ‘knowing’ is the silken thread that has pulled him out of gravest of miseries. This time shall not be an exception. He knows that.

He is 22 year, 3 month and 2 day old. Yes, he has been counting. This is the only form of meditation he has been deliberately pursuing, perching atop a wheelchair for the last 7 months and 5 days. His mind is ticking ceaselessly with the vivid image of that cherishing penultimate event. He was one race away from his dream win when that fateful incident happened. He was literally racing towards his track on the D-day when he had to make a choice. A choice. He had no idea about it until then. He fell victim to a seemingly ‘ordinary’ road accident. For a moment, he was happy that it was him and not that straying kid who was lying safe in his grip and had an innocent smile now on his face. By then, the curtain was down. He knew it. That was then.

He leaves his wheelchair today. For good. He still has 13 days left for his event. He is ready. 13 days are far too many. Or so he thinks. The D-day arrives. He takes his position and here comes the gun shot. And, oh boy! He freezes. He hallucinates a winding track lying before him surrounded by a cacophonous crowd. No, he is not on drugs. The dope test came out clean. It is something else. But he was ready.

He and his coach spend the rest of the day toiling around a children’s park. They are not however dissecting the incident. Absolutely not.

The coach has a plan. The runner follows it unquestioned. He takes up the role of a newsboy in his neighbourhood. He goes to his customers, makes sure to greet them, and delivers papers daily without failure. 9 months or so have passed. Not sure about the time though. He is not counting anymore!

It is that time of the year. The event. The runner wins it this time comprehensively. Amidst all joy, he is still confounded by the logic behind his mentor’s peculiar plan. He is not sure whether that plan actually had any ingredient for his success. The coach unravels the mystery with a ‘Yes’. It is the ‘social network’!

Here I am

Here I am, striking keys at my room, MS W3-304. I find my room’s Vaastu quite pleasing. Gentle breeze makes its way through the western face at night time. This is the autumn semester of my final year. I have got so many things to accomplish. Not that I need to prove anything to someone, it may just be perceived as my idiosyncrasy to live up to my expectations. I am feeling rapturously satisfied to retrospect my eventful stay at Kharagpur only to be jittered by the slithering tick of time. I can’t help it but I am getting the notion of an outlier when I see my peers’ lackadaisical commitment to the coveted degree. Or is it me whose attitude is lackadaisical towards life?

The penultimate semester is inundated with all sorts of exotic examinations. The purpose, of course, is a ‘secure’ future. So what if the present is unfounded? But there is hardly any other way that could be referred to. A heavy volume of fluid is certain to fragment itself at some point of its course to explore the unending diversity provided by nature. The sole point, therefore, comes down to priorities. It is no frivolous task to decide upon priorities, and it is heartening to know that Kgpians do eventually inculcate the quality of efficiently fulfilling that task. There is, however, one glitch that keeps pricking my peace of mind. More often than not, there is a trade-off between securing a future and commitment to the curriculum. It may be only a matter of time when we shall see that wicked gap mended and we shall pass out of the prestigious IIT Kharagpur on a high note. And that is when the era of stupendous global popularity will dawn on this institute.

Hangover

Clock’s ticking. Need to run. But I lost my zeal somewhere. I don’t know why.

Shapeless days. No classes. No stress. Yet something isn’t right.

Everyday’s déjà vu. Happens during every long vacation. But this time it’s different. Or is it?

Mates are missing. Life’ll never be as vibrant as before. Wish the vacation remains forever. For I’m scared to feel the void.