Wednesday, May 20, 2009


It will be sunrise soon, and the biscuits in the tin are nearly all gone. For weeks and weeks I haven’t had a single night’s uninterrupted peaceful sleep.

On some nights, I’ve been up finishing a journal entry and drifting onto the endless interwebs crawling through spaces. On others, I’ve had conversations that have lasted for hours. On yet others, I’ve tossed and turned and finally given up.

These weeks have been a blurry wave of semi satisfactory afternoon naps that give me a buzz like I’m high on something. It’s funny because I always hated sleeping in the afternoon when I was little. With the sleeplessness I’ve noticed an alarming increase in slips of tongue and typographical errors. May the Grammar Nazi spare me.

Some evenings have passed by the lakeside. Mostly with a friend or two, but sometimes alone – once, a little snake and I simultaneously scared each other. As I backed away, it slithered back into the foliage. Once a woman distracted me and a friend by going right down the treacherous slippery mini-bank with a bundle of clothes and washing them in the water. She took her time, letting the clothes float away a little bit and catching them at the very last minute, beating them against the rocks, washing her face with the lake water.

There are lights in the houses across the left side of the lake, and above there is an endless sky. The stars have disappeared from the night sky a little every year. I barely see any these days.

I have an exam in about seven and a half hours and I’m probably not prepared for it. But I know I’ll go to University by 11 am, I know I’ll write until my left hand is aching from the effort and I know I’ll regret not immersing myself into the course earlier. At least I successfully finished re-reading Hayavadana and actually had a smile on my face in the end.

That’s what happens when you study literature. You end up appreciating why exactly a particular text is taught, if not falling in love with it.

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