(From the Diary of Nirmita Sarma, my roommate, my skinmate)
No sleep all night, no stars either.
Wake up with a conscience.
Of classes I’ve missed,
But can’t remember either,
What I’ve gained. Loss, only loss.
Winds beat against the closed window glass;
But no time.No time, to watch the morning birds flock
The barren rooftops.
Coming from the land of tea gardens,
No chance, I have, of finding the cold tea here,
No time to look into the mirror,
To check if I’m not stunted anymore.
The pile of sheets of literary criticisms,
Not quite ready yet, lies under my couch–
Along with a big box of stale cigarettes.
I’m late. No time for a shower.
I’m late!!! No music now too.
Hire a three wheeled cab,
Since I can’t miss another class.
Hand over the change to the greedy cabbie.
Even gave away my favourite lucky note,
On which someone had once scribbled a handsome ‘33‘…
No time to stand and regret at another one of my losses.
Otherwise I would choke.
Then I dash up the stairs, and crash into the classroom.
More, more humiliation. Perfect! Just Perfect.
Laughing quietly, are you bitches?
Well, I don’t really mind. Or care.
You all have no idea,
What I have to go through,
Every. Freaking. Day.
No friends. No gains.
Losses piling up,
Like elephant dump.
When trying to win back a few friends.
They take me out for fun.
Still no friends for me, no gains for me.
My pocket just leaks out more and more.
Late for the next class.
Hire another three wheeler,
But that’d never be fast enough,
To get me away from those shiny shops.
Assignments. More tests, the pun’s on me.
The hours drag, but it’s still not enough
My hands slog. Dizzy in my head,
I wonder when it’s going to get over.
The final thing.
When I’m going to settle bets with life itself.
When I’ll strangle its throat with my own bare hands…
For now, even the coffee shops have closed.
And I am out of change.
I walk out into the storm,
My music strolling along with me.
As the day closes, or maybe it’s the light,
I’m still where I had started this dawn.
Not one credible to be called friend.
A one who knows me, not my lies.
Not one friend, nothing gained.
Just losses and pains piling up.
But in this hour of rush,
I don’t really have the time,
To think about all of this mess,
Or even begin to forget them as well.