Tuesday, 9 August 2016

Exam Fever

The clock showed 1.45 a.m. My eyes were red and burning after hours of poring over mountains of notes. 

  Image source: Pixabay

I had sorted out the study material (basically xeroxed notes of intellectually superior folks) into different piles. I mentally wondered, why isn't there a scrap of my scribbling anywhere.....didn't I make any notes myself?

Pile 1 (the largest) - Never laid eyes before
Pile 2 - Looks familiar
Pile 3 - Definitely visited but still can't figure out what they are about
Pile 4 (the smallest) - Done and dusted, to the best of my understanding

I noted with distaste that Pile 4, didn't seem to be getting on too well. 
Time to reconsider the plan of action. Much like the Indian team's required run rate based on no. of overs/balls remaining, I calculated the No. of pages to study Vs No. of minutes remaining. This complex calculation took me some time as I couldn't find my calculator. When I looked at the clock next time, it was 2.45 a.m. Atleast now I knew, how deep the waters were that I was wading in!

The required page rate was 5 pages/minute!
Lord! Is that even possible? I mean just reading through a page took me more than a minute, leave alone deciphering/memorizing its complexities!
Sagely, I decided to re-evaluate the piles. Pile 1 was relegated to the deepest recesses of my study cupboard.  The required page rate still showed 3 pages/minute. With trepidation, I stuffed Pile 2 inside the cupboard. I decided to stick to the known devils. The stats had improved! 
I was down to 1 page/minute! That's the best I could do, wasn't it?

The time was 3.20 a.m. The house was so quiet, so were the streets below, I looked out of the window, not a light on in any of the buildings around. A wave of self-pity engulfed me...
Setting the alarm for 4.15 a.m, I settled into an uneasy nap filled with formulas, diagrams, equations flying past me at a dizzying rate.

The sudden, jarring grate of the mixer from the kitchen had me waking with jerk and and a palpitating heart! I snatched up the traitor alarm clock; it showed 7.30 a.m!
God, help me through this one I fervently prayed, jumping out of bed, hurrying through my toilette. Let there be an earthquake, moderately big and preferably damaging only the exam center, a total strike....aww any catastrophe to avert today's exam! 
I promise, I promise God, next exam I'll be better prepared!



I am with Team #CrimsonRush for the #BarAThon from Aug 1st - Aug 7th.
Today's blogging prompt is Promise.
You could find out more about this lovely blog marathon at BAR.


 Copyright © 2016 KALA RAVI

To Dear Old Friends


 Image source: Quora

To Dear Old Friends

Remember dear girls, that chai so hot,
Old Krishna from the canteen brought?

Eccentric professors droning on,
Slide presentations that made you yawn,
Canteen was our sole refuge,
Saving us from boring lectures' deluge,

Remember dear girls, that chai so hot,
Old Krishna from the canteen brought?

Worrying over filling journals for Prof Briganza,
Praying he would come down with influenza,
And suddenly one of you shrieked,
"There goes Sheena with Fareed!"

Remember dear girls, that chai so hot,
Old Krishna from the canteen brought?

The Bold & The Beautiful we mooned over,
Contemplating who would be Ridge's new lover.
Wondering if Prof Shah would ever retire,
Complaining how much that Vipul does perspire.

Remember dear girls, that chai so hot,
Old Krishna from the canteen brought?

Thrown out of class I was one day,
Drowned in misery I was that day,
Cheering me with hearty laughs that day,
Dear friends you saved me that day.

Remember dear girls, that chai so hot,
Old Krishna from the canteen brought?


This was me reminiscing my college days, with my best friends, our group that secretly called itself G1 for group 1 (how lame right?). And undoubtedly, the best memories of those youthful days were of course the times we spent in between lectures, lunch, bunked lectures and lectures you got thrown out of, at the college canteen. 
A rather modest canteen it was, that had a man named Krishna running it. We rarely got anything edible there besides his chai for a humble Rs 5 for a glass or Rs 2 for the cutting that we obviously opted for. On occasions he announced hot samosa/vada pavs, which cost a princely Rs 7, which we desisted from shelling out. On 'special' occasions he even offered misal pav, which was basically the samosa pav stuffing refurbished, remodeled, garnished and served. Anyhow it all depended on how hungry or how low we felt to devour even that!

The times we spent here mocking, joking, crying, raging, bitching, complaining, finishing assignments, discussing everything under the sun over a cuppa are indeed the ones that I shall cherish for ever!

Here's to you my dearest friends, G1 rocks till date!

Purani jeans aur guitar.....
 




This post has been written in association with Chaayos & Blogchatter on occasion of Friendship Day, 7th Aug'16.



Copyright © 2016 KALA RAVI