PG makes you feel like a spec of dust.

Post graduate education is like a pimple you get on your butt. It takes a long time to show what it truly is and it pains at the wrong moments- more when you’re trying to relax. It literally doesn’t let you sit in peace. ever. While all the professors (and some seniors) make it their life’s mission to make your life as miserable as they can and you tend to tip towards becoming a borderline alcoholic with issues of frustration, there are just a few things which let you breathe.
Food is my primary reason. Food is actually my primary reason for anything, actually. Sad? Cheese. Happy? Cake, cheese (as separate courses, of course) Angry? Biriyani- which reminds me- the biriyani here in Pune tastes like foot hair when compared to Calcutta’s aloo-heaven-melt-your-mouth biriyani.

Suji 100%

Hearts flying with pink sparkles all over

The second thing is my weekly trip to Mumbai. Although it isn’t really a weekly affair (See what I did there? weekly ‘affair’? No? Okay.) because I end up going there only twice a month, sometimes even lesser but it is how I count my weeks. I look forward to the three and half hour journey on recliner seats which I don’t recline because it hurts my back. I curse when the bus halts for no reason but commission at Maganlal Chikki for ten whole minutes when we could’ve just reached that many minutes earlier. Then again, just because it stops, I eat chikki (refer to primary reason listed above). Once in mumbai I am ensured  the primary reason for happiness. I digressed. Okay, I should really stop talking about food lest ‘someone’ feels slightly overshadowed.
I count my days till I can finally hug someone and feel at home. He is a sight for my sore, tired, almost-panda-like eyes. To have someone who will love looking at you even when he knows you haven’t showered in two days just because. It is relieving to have someone who will be selfless in his love because I get enough of the rat-race- competition bullshit on the weekdays.

 

Shine 100%

The lifeline minus one

Staying in a girl’s hostel is like walking on recently erupted, really mucky volcanic lava. everyone is on edge, either because of the blood flowing from in between their legs or because of the blood flowing  in their throbbing heads because of medical / dental school. It is tricky business, maneuvering your way through the various frustrations in different departments, add to that unwashed and unironed clothes that pile up. If we were to calculate the number of clothes we all have accumulated over a week’s time all over the world, it would probably almost match up to the number of stars in the galaxy. Pretty close.

I must work upon writing about the same thing for longer bouts. We have hundred mark essay answers in our final exams where we have to drone on and on about one topic for ten to twelve pages. I should master the art of staying focussed which I clearly need work on because I digressed again.

PG is like a race where no one wants to hurt you but almost everyone (save for your friends) ends up destroying your day. It’s a course that makes you realise your true potential to achieve either of the two- total bitchiness or zen-like nirvana and not give any fucks at all. Love and food and love for food keep me alive. and shoes. Please send either or all my way. Dominos, even though I’m not a fan of mass-manufactured pizza, is welcome as well, with a pitcher of chilled beer, please.

Image result for biryani arsalan

Just a photograph of one of the things that matter in life.

 

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