Skip to main content

A promise kept

The official photographer @ the convocation failed to snap my photo! But that needn't have got me depressed, many others met the same fate. So when grilled, the fellow promised to deliver a CD each to all the unfortunates containing the promised snaps.

The promise has been kept...but only partly. The CD was delivered to me last evening, but it didn't contain my snap. Instead it contained a poor-quality video of the entire ceremony. To make matters worse, the camera was placed so awkwardly, it just caught the backs of the recipients as they received their nominal degrees!

All this boils down to there being no pictorial evidence of me ever having received the degree from the VC.

Comments

Anonymous said…
I'm catching onto the pattern now...seems nothing ever gets to you on time! If I were you, I'd be one frustrated person..

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