encounters on a monday morning

well this blog canbe very well be named as "ghotu's day out" or "how to stop living & become a ghotu". but i think its too early to confer upon myself the title of a ghotu as its just been 2 weeks of gruelling classes which i have assidously attended. 2 weeks of venting all the frustration on a badminton shuttle. 2 weeks of plain tardiness which has so ostensibly crept into the body. 2 weeks of no philosophical chinwags. 2 weeks of no cinematic relief from the gnawing peer pressure. 2 weeks of no whining except on the fact that after about 2 years for the first time it seems that 24 hours are way too less to fit in all the lucubration that we want to do. so after a relatively calm sunday comes a monday, my monday.
in order to free myself from the sluggish slumber in the subzero temperatures of pilani, i always place my alarm clock and my cell at a distant range from where their tocsins can irritate me till i have had enough. finally i wipe off my face from the excessive drooling and my subconscious dreams which though weird, are strangely very relevant and profoundly related to my myriad daily activities. the success or failure in the belligerent act of putting aside the warm the blanket will decide the prospect of my day.as i step outside in the cold and dark verandah where the chilly winds slap me on the face, it is precisely at that moment that it strikes me, the day has begun.
BANG, BANG , KNOCK, KNOCK. the mumbles come from the other sides. i know they are not up yet. so BANG, BANG, KNOCK,KNOCK. now comes a much more +ve response. in 10 minutes all are outside, jogging our way to sac. after 1/2, 1 or 2 hours at the badminton court and gym depending on the time constraints, i hurriedly rush to my room.
i am one of the few ones who have the luxury of owning 2 buckets. when many other face the abulia of whether or not to go for a bath, i dont. 2 buckets means a lot of hot water, though fetching it from the back tap ushers into my mind the thought that i am living in a pre-medieval era. as i get ready i smile at myself for having packed my bag last night before going to bed like the most diligent and obedient school boy. last time i did that was when i was in 4th grade. Ah! those were simpler days. waiting for the school bus with mom making it so much easier. Damn You - self discipline..
heading for the mess i realize i have got exactly 10 minutes which i will have to judiciously divide so that i can have a nice breakfast. should i go for the boiled egg? should i go for the omlette? should i go for a regular dark coffee or tea? should i try the pongal thing tht seems to be working the southies. damn, i need more time for this. after having wasted 2 precious minutes standing in line, watching others pass away with their prized possessions of a half fried or a full fried, i decide that its high time for a policy change. so i go from back and ask for a boiled egg . now the guy who controls the egg department is as usual singing his marwadi folk songs. i have to wait for his song to end as it is almost impossible to decode his wrinkly expressions. after about 30 seconds, he says no boiled egg left. to top it all his song wasnt tht good either. tht pongal thing looked pretty much like the diet for a diseased fellow with a weak bowel. so i go for the emergency bread and butter solution. there is no bread left. only crumbs are left after the umpteenth thorough investigation by other fellows in which they look and hold every single bread piece in their hands which drives me nuts. i head for the kitchen to get hold of some fresh ones. the cooks arent their. after a minute one of them comes in and gives us some bread. i rush back to the refrigerators for some butter. its locked. that mess manager is one of those guys who are never there when u need there and always there yammering stories about the hills of uttaranchal when u dont have any business with the. after a similar jam situation i sit down peacefully to swallow whatever i could accumulate. infront of me sits daga, dipping a butter piece in his milk and chewing it plain. what surprised wasnt his choice of combination but the question that how did he get one of those butter pieces.
after all this i head for my morning classes. so much for knowledge.