For a mechanical engineering student, workshops are what a public loo is to a person in need of it. An unavoidable obligation to say the least. The usual Wednesday post lunch workshop returns you in post mortem status: Ghosts. Pale, exhausted, livid with life and its choices. The walk back to the room is not easy…especially when there are a whole bunch on non-mech ‘humans’ roaming around hissing at us, khakhi clad ghosts, and announcing, “Boss, T.C. chalega..?”The slow march back, under trembling thigh bones and unsteady calf muscles is just as pitiable as it sounds. The world does not seem to matter and it gets quiet when all seems futile: I could hear even the rubber sole under my canvas squeak. A feeble female count in the department and our behavior towards that small number, have rightfully earned us some queer titles. But Wednesday evenings, even our fundamental traits seem to lose vigour. As we pass by the 13th block; like Pavlov’s dog, our heads swivel around towards what normal guyz call eye candy. But mathematically, figuratively or genuinely Mech ≠ Normal.
And as we inch our way towards our shelters, the want for a soft comfy bed consumes our physical self. Climbing stairs is never more difficult. The knock on my door is then attended to. The door swings open and my roomie welcomes me with a smirk, gazing at my sweat drenched khakhi. A normal reaction in college life. I have done it too and hence shall not hold him guilty. After traversing 4 meters of my room in 20 seconds I look at the shelf, second one from the top. A piece of cast iron, once cut with a hack saw in my hand…
I turn a blind eye to my wet shirt, I turn a deaf ear to the mockery 15 minutes ago and I become speechless. I hold the piece in my palm and sit on the bed. With my back rested against the wall, my eyes plunge into sound slumber.
For all the blisters it presents me and all the joys it denies. I was blind deaf and dumb. I was in love, with gears, casting moulds, nuts and bolts. Love nonetheless.
And as we inch our way towards our shelters, the want for a soft comfy bed consumes our physical self. Climbing stairs is never more difficult. The knock on my door is then attended to. The door swings open and my roomie welcomes me with a smirk, gazing at my sweat drenched khakhi. A normal reaction in college life. I have done it too and hence shall not hold him guilty. After traversing 4 meters of my room in 20 seconds I look at the shelf, second one from the top. A piece of cast iron, once cut with a hack saw in my hand…
I turn a blind eye to my wet shirt, I turn a deaf ear to the mockery 15 minutes ago and I become speechless. I hold the piece in my palm and sit on the bed. With my back rested against the wall, my eyes plunge into sound slumber.
For all the blisters it presents me and all the joys it denies. I was blind deaf and dumb. I was in love, with gears, casting moulds, nuts and bolts. Love nonetheless.
7 comments:
We are all prisoners in a cage of our own design.
i personally kno his luv for mech...
must say this one branch is true engg.
n wot u wrote makes me respect dis branch even more... :)
but yeah.... me not a "foolish geek"!!
Love nonetheless, indeed. Interesting post.
Nice blog. :)
oh my god ...agonizin luv ..u must b pretty disillusioned with those khaki clothe ? khaki are they running a police training camp or what? best of luc for nxt wednesday :) blogrolling you
u know wat..never read nethin so heartfelt b4..loved it yaar!!..mech has always been ma first choice..n ur description really makes me jealous..keep writin dude..u r a fabulous writer!!..
@ think tank
thank for the comment
nay buddy..no training camp.. its the workshop uniform...needless t say college administration lacks some serious amount of aesthetic sense.
Wendesday.. well this time was no different.
wonderful sir..could feel the same here but never had the talent to express it...as that of yours... really admirable!
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