Nebulous Library

Gone, are the days of fun. Gone, are the days of merriment. There was something that seemed scarier than TOSHIO now (toshio - the japanese ghostly character in a horror movie, which i happened to watch very recently), the EXAMS! There was a time when everything was fun. play your favourite game or sport after college, kill time with your folks bitching about everyone you knew under the sun, watch a box office hit late night in the newly built multiplex or a long ride to the beach in herds on a moonlit night.

Library seemed to be the only apt place to spend time now. I religiously entered the details in the register, though it's not mandatory (i feel not doing so is like a jinx to me, not letting me do anything productive, though i haven't been to the library many times to prove it. I am stupid sometimes), kept next to the scarp leading to the creepy library in the cellar. I feared of sciatica gazing into an empty chair and the desk (short enough to be called a table), which blurred into the background behind the pile of huge books (like the roulex of rbcs) in front of a burgundy burkhi (my codename for people wearing burkhas with reference to the color too), an inferiority feeling sunk deep in me. I chose a murky corner in the 8 x 16 grid library. Molecular genetics of malignant melanoma, lab diagnosis of SOME coxsackie virus, neural regulation of insulin secretion, all seemed to me like greek and latin. Learning judo or jujitsu or even fighting a griffin would be a lot easier. I wonder why they didn't teach us making speed balls (speed ball = cocaine + heroine, something i learnt in the forensic class), so that we could take one or two ROADS and lay flat, the thought brought a smile onto my lips.

The place gives you the feeling of being seated in a hermitage, where you can enjoy solitude even when people are around. BABY robbins looked herculean (i couldn't find a foetal in there). I started off with a topic and soon the side effects of the evening's volleyball practice seemed very obvious. I felt my head being cannoned by a toreador. the desk beckoned me like a cradle. I was keeping count of the number of yawns to keep my torso from crashing onto the desk. I wondered how i could feel so sleepy with a very bad headache (normally people with headache struggle to fall asleep). The Psychosomatic theory of medicine as explained by Norman Lewis in his Word Power now made sense to me. One's subconscious makes him / her susceptible to cold germs / causes headache, backache without any organic cause within the body.

A girl scampering next to me towards the exit (or the entrance, or whatever) to recieve a phone call brought some life to the dead atmosphere. Her footwear was slapping against the floor tiles creating a phonetic match with someone's claps as though to cheer her up to win the time trial to answer the call. Nothing much could be done than giving a curt look as she was a super senior. It's really funny to see people run as though the person on the other end is never gonna call again. Near the exit, a female who used the partition glass as a mirror to groom her frizzy mass of hair caught my attention. I couldn't help but smirk at her narcissistic concern.

I had already done enough justice to my watch and the wall clock. One of my friend came up to me remarking that i was too groggy and gave me his bike keys to get back to hostel. Being very pleased by his chivalry towards a guy, i digested the fact that i managed to read only two long pages. I thought i would have as well read so much sitting in the tv room and with better entertainment. It was my first day in library after a long time. Sallying back to hostel, i made a resolution to do nothing other than study in the library ( with my fingers crossed :) )