LOST

Cupped your hands

plunging it deep down

you bring me up

to drink it

to your soul.

But

you stopped and pondered.

What happened then?

I fell from the spaces

Trickled down
where I came from;

Not to be the same forever.

My Experiments With Exam

-PL i.e. Preparation Leave is strictly abided and you start it with enquiring syllabus and scouring books.

-No matter how many days of PL you get, you wait until the "do or die” moment. (That’s the spirit!) B-)

-Exam eve is never celebrated without saying “kaash! Ek din aur hota.”

- Ripley’s believe it or not:

What your prof taught in the whole session can be mugged overnight.

-One all nighter makes you all set for exams, if we had two such then surely one could be professor in that subject.         

(But as we don’t have such days, the talent goes wasted). :(

-Answer sheets swell when you have properly studied and they swell to explode if you haven’t. :O

-If you and your friend have come unprepared and you go clueless after seeing the question paper. You fiddle yours wondering, "What the heck is she/he doing!!!"

-After getting the result you blow a fuse:

THIS CAN'T BE MY MARKS ??!!! 

**# # @@ **..beep..beep..tarr..tarr.. : commemoration to prof.

~Thus Spoke Student

Imagination Lost…!!!

 

Feelings and  desires

Shaping my thought.

A quest to pen it down,

And  all of a sudden my imagination is lost. 

A lump in my head ,

Growing bigger and bigger.

The  gun is loaded ,

But there’s a glitch in the trigger.

I am helpless,

My heart writhes whilst.

The mind hunts for words,

Together they fight for zilch. 

I write three words,

Cutting two of them next.

With the remaining left,

Outlandish it is, I still wish to finish the text. 

I recall those days,

When my words had much more to it.

The water gurgled, birds chirped

And I could write the whole world in ink. 

Now knowing I will never capture the finale,

I escape the infinite cost.

Converting my travail to trash,

The ink flux ceasefire as my imagination is lost.

ps: This was written 2 years ago and again not because I wanted to write it but because I had to write something which I couldn't finally come up with. Strange are the vents of creativity.I will define it as a moment of creative atyachaar.

Greek Myth Vs Freek Fact...

When he gazed into the pool, they called it "narcissism". When I do so into the mirror, dad calls it NARICISSISM.