I see dead people.

People who no more laugh or no more exist. All that can be considered fairly lively on them, is a dead face lumped on their slouched body, tired and exhausted of the mental burden they have been carrying since the past few days or even years. The burden of college exams. The burden of Grades and GPA's and Better futures and what not.


The terrors of A's and D's.
The grimace of those B's and C's.
The regret of those E's and F's.

Yes, all that looms around.

I see exams around me.



Yes, they have struck me as well. I waste more time glaring on somebody's crumpled notes instead of my own blessed computer screen. As my mind crams, grasps and gallops what should have been slowly digested in the past 6 months, I experience things in their strangest mutations. As sweat rolls down my back, I arch it further to delve deeper into my notebook to understand the so called concepts that have been laid peacefully before me. But the more I dig in, the lesser I understand the physics and mathematics involved. All I can find in the end, at the most are the punctuation errors and typos in the book.

Sometimes, I get nightmares about exams too. A typical nightmare that I have already missed the exam that I am going to appear for tommorow has apprently become the most cliched dream of my life. It's like too common in these times. I have to pinch myself and check if everything around me is real or not. Because sometimes, it's  just too surreal.

To garnish the nightmares, there are alarm clocks. Alarm clocks of my hostel neighbourers, which go off on their own whim. One of them fancies to bell at 5:15 A.M and the other one a bit after the first one tires out. This is the time when I am finally taking a reprieve from the exhaustive studies. When people are preparing to wake, I am almost preparing to sleep. Because they had their full night's sleep. And because I can afford only a two hours sleep. And why? Because this brain, this very brain that is ushering thoughts right now, is damn slow.

Damn slow at Engineering. 

There is no sense of time or dimension around me. Every minute evaporates into an hour as the next subject approaches with caution. There are no more good jokes to hear about in the air. Only grim and lengthy formulas and equations. Formulas, blurted and remembered from those lips that have only learned to smile.

Equations that are beyond my capability exist ceaselessly in front of me, waiting to be driven and proven. Assumptions and clauses stand there naked, waiting to be used and exploited. Integrations and differenciations stand like twin demons, unconquered and unmatched. These are the things which I never liked. Things which will one day become the most important part of my life. Things that I hate. Things for which I will be known. I am going to be a scientist, you know? But, that, will be an illusion.

It will not be real.

Engineering can not be real to me. It was never meant to be. But still, it will always be. No matter how far I run away. It will come along with it's own poorly fashioned exams like a snoopy dog wanking it's tail faithfully before it's master. It will come. Then what is real? If this is what is pursuing me, what is that I am pursuing?

This.

These words. These expressions. These thoughts. This is the ultimate sink. This is what I want to be known for. To be known as a writer.

But will that be possible?

The vortex motion of the whirlpool converging down the sink, with it's radius tending from infinity to zero, velocity undergoing an exponential increase, integrating along my life's elements, will have to decide.