A day in the life of a Five Point No-one

Statutory Warning: All names, places, and events depicted in the article are not fictitious and bear resemblance to, connection with, or relation to particular real entities. Any such similarity is purely non-coincidental, intentional, and intended. The article is deliberately verbose and pretentious just to annoy random readers and GRE-Muggers.

Part 1: I saw the best mornings of my generation destroyed by madness

Our eyes were glued together and our lips were parched from an eternal yearning for the moment that lay before us. It had been laced in one complete euphonic accord where the cosmos was the architect and time had become imperceptible. The deep waters that lay concealed in our eyes were roaring to fuse in uncharted territory. At that enchanting moment, the clamorous cacophony, of a polyphonic punk-rock anthem, a battery drained delirious alarm clock and thunderous thumping (Ok! Ok! I promise. This is the last time I’ll torture you with alliterations and mediocre smut) on my room door, drags me out of dreamland.

Its 8:15 A.M. There are 8 missed calls on my mobile (Wake-up –useless-son-of-mine- Calls). My door is on the brink of a literal downfall from the incessant battering doled out by the obnoxious lecture enamoured wingmate.

{Wingmate = A conceited and academically oriented nitwit, bestowed with an absolute birthright to attend all the lectures (even the ones without mandatory attendance) and compel fantasy-dreamers to follow suit, in the illusion that his divine obsession with a schedule is a ticket to a 7 lakh per-annum job. And ya… he also lives on the same floor as I do in the dorm.}

Like a foetus savouring sunlight in its maiden voyage into the world, I close my eyes to observe nothing but the bare minimum, in my mammoth task to locate the bathroom. Like an infant embarking on his primal walk, I totter to the washbasin – toothbrush, toothpaste and a day exhaustive with routine, in hand.

After five minutes I realize that succumbing to the rapture of lethargy, I’ve returned to relish the essence of dreamland. Only this time, it’s gory as hell. My parents are murmuring gatekeepers of Hell – “I told you he wasn’t mature enough to live by himself. I told you so. Didn’t I?”- and my Engineering Mechanics professor is The Satan Reloaded – “You will pass this course over my dead body, you slothful bas****”. The very prospect of murder being the only solution to the passing of a course is an ample source of alarm and morning sickness.

It is 11:35 A.M. I’ve slept through lecture one, two and three. I’ve missed breakfast and am late for my tutorial-session. Good ol’ routine.

{Tutorial-Session = An assembly of 25-odd almost empty stomachs, to solve problems only on the lines recommended by Mr. Vacuntum Cranium a.k.a. The Big Giant Empty Head, failing which we are subjected to the torment of his Hinglish rebukes. But, ‘A silver lining, my warrior, there is.’ 100% Tutorial attendance = 10 marks.}

End of Part 1. Phew!!

Part 2: I could never survive my prequel to write this.