So Led Zep beats Charles Dickens for the that-usual-looking-back-cliched title for this post. For a guy who thinks he's both into Rock 'n Roll and literature, that was a tough choice. Anyway, I'm no longer a student of IIT officially, and that does deserve a look back.
The cliches end with the title. I wish I had added thankfully to that, but I can't. Time did not fly, four years did not roll over just like that and I do not feel that everything happened in a blur. Sure there were short moments that did feel like zipping by, but then there were those long, uncertain, lonely moments which made me hate what I had turned into. Not that I was a masterpiece to begin with.
Like most bad things, it all begun badly. The whole concept of relative grading made me think I just had to keep my head above water level, and I never was under the illusion that I could be a trailblazer. Never meant to be. Mediocre targets often lead to disastrous goals. Second sem hit me hard. Third wasn't better, but the fourth was the knockout punch. Two years down, I wished I could go back all over again. I was indifferent to begin with, not even doing things that I loved. Quizzing, football, cricket: everything was lost when I could have done so much more. In my entire second year I hardly played football a single time. You'll have to lock me up all tied up in a chamber to have that happen now.
There is no tale of magic transformation after the interval, but at least I decided not to let the good things suffer because of the unfortunately bad ones. That did not save me from having another torrid year. But at least I had the satisfaction of doing things I wanted to. Fourth year is too recent to revisit, the pre-placement mood is all over the blog some 10 posts back.
I wished it would all end relatively happily. But then I am not the one who gets to write the script. Like an actor written out of a play, they had to figuratively kill me off just when I wanted to leave the stage with a smile on my face. Incredible and sad.
For consolation, which I get in excess these days, my future isn't getting affected much. At least not the immediate one. Just 2 days of headache, marathon sessions of M*A*S*H seasons and having Tottenham Hotspur powered by Berbatov/Keane goals beat the hell out of every other club on my computer screen are what it took to soak it all in.
Goodbye, Farewell and Amen. Or Abyssinia, Henry. Whatever you prefer (non M*A*S*H watchers may forget this one.)
And to think of all those beautiful things I would have written had the mood been otherwise.
Dear friends, thanks for the memories. I hope I be a part of the happier ones of yours.
May the future be slightly brighter, I'm not asking for much. Amen.