Skip to main content

8 hrs of futility

God doesn't play dice with the Universe. He plays it exclusively with me. And the damned fellow cheats with alarming regularity. Well, if I'm the Chosen One, so be it!

I was supposed to receive the original certificates I had submitted at BIT Mesra's office. I won't go into the gory details of what followed, but the harrowing experience left me feeling like a chicken being roasted alive in an oven. The erring officer(s) should be sent on a holiday tour of 100hrs to Venus. At least the jackass(es) will learn a thing or two about getting sunburnt. Thanks to his/their indifference, my journey back home has been put on hold.
Adding a cruel irony to all my miseries was a light shower in the evening that was enough to drench me and add a few grams to my denim.
I'm now soothing my frayed nerves with some Mozart over Shoutcast.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

This is what Bertrand Russell said about religion...

Religion is based, I think, primarily and mainly upon fear. It is partly the terror of the unknown and partly, as I have said, the wish to feel that you have a kind of elder brother who will stand by you in all your troubles and disputes. ... A good world needs knowledge, kindliness, and courage; it does not need a regretful hankering after the past or a fettering of the free intelligence by the words uttered long ago by ignorant men.

The year that was

I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still