Collinearity
Two things made my (yester)day:
1, Lying on the frontyard of my hostel:
2, As Dr Ramaprabhu, my E slot professor, read his slides aloud in a tone modelled on short-wave radio newsreaders, and as the hour deepened and the lecture reached a plateau phase, my brain gradually shut down, lobe by lobe. I fixed him, like the ancient mariner, with a glittering eye, and behind this foolproof facade I boarded several trains of thought. I contrived to spend the rest of the lecture in this fashion.
Dr Ramaprabhu stopped.
He returned my gaze, threw his arms up a little and said: 'You're sleeping'.
My trains of thought derailed. Suddenly the world went quiet, time turned elastic. My lips parted in reflexive protest, but I couldn't summon the right words. I felt an acute need for a teleporter. The cameras -- the slot is held in a studio -- rolled in silence, chronicling every bit of it. I saw two doors. One was marked 'I was only listening, sir!', the other 'Sorry'. I was about to open one of them -- I forget which -- when the chap next to me uttered in an undertone: 'Guy-wreck'.
It was a peculiar yet familiar word, and the next moment the mystery solved itself: Gairik Sachdeva, a former course-mate of mine, woke up behind me. I had been sitting right in his line of sight. I exhaled in relief. The professor grilled Gairik, poor soul, with a question or two from the slides, while I inwardly fumed at him (the prof) for his amateur eye-contact skills. If my saviour hadn't called out 'Gairik' at the correct moment, I'd have been cutting a farcical figure in front of a class pursuing all degrees offered by the institute.
Gairik spoke in his defence; in reply Dr Ramaprabhu ordered him to stand up. A confused Bharath Parthasarathy, seated behind Gairik, promptly came to his feet.
1, Lying on the frontyard of my hostel:
2, As Dr Ramaprabhu, my E slot professor, read his slides aloud in a tone modelled on short-wave radio newsreaders, and as the hour deepened and the lecture reached a plateau phase, my brain gradually shut down, lobe by lobe. I fixed him, like the ancient mariner, with a glittering eye, and behind this foolproof facade I boarded several trains of thought. I contrived to spend the rest of the lecture in this fashion.
Dr Ramaprabhu stopped.
He returned my gaze, threw his arms up a little and said: 'You're sleeping'.
My trains of thought derailed. Suddenly the world went quiet, time turned elastic. My lips parted in reflexive protest, but I couldn't summon the right words. I felt an acute need for a teleporter. The cameras -- the slot is held in a studio -- rolled in silence, chronicling every bit of it. I saw two doors. One was marked 'I was only listening, sir!', the other 'Sorry'. I was about to open one of them -- I forget which -- when the chap next to me uttered in an undertone: 'Guy-wreck'.
It was a peculiar yet familiar word, and the next moment the mystery solved itself: Gairik Sachdeva, a former course-mate of mine, woke up behind me. I had been sitting right in his line of sight. I exhaled in relief. The professor grilled Gairik, poor soul, with a question or two from the slides, while I inwardly fumed at him (the prof) for his amateur eye-contact skills. If my saviour hadn't called out 'Gairik' at the correct moment, I'd have been cutting a farcical figure in front of a class pursuing all degrees offered by the institute.
Gairik spoke in his defence; in reply Dr Ramaprabhu ordered him to stand up. A confused Bharath Parthasarathy, seated behind Gairik, promptly came to his feet.
-----------------
posted by Marlin Jar at 5:11:00 pm
5 Obiter dicta:
very nice. in particular, the last line...
ha ha.. Very well written
Two comments:
one: well written
two: lol
This is the first post of your blog that I read and it is amazingly well written. ROFLMAO at the last line.
:)
Yes, I am the 'Guy-wreck' here!
And would you believe how I came across this blog?
Well, okay, we all admit having googled our names!
:P
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