It is that time of the year again.
the sheets have been rolled, papers stacked in piles, distinguished from each other by the crease lines and coffee stains and the stationery all arranged, stacked away in order in bulging boxes.The pencils are in the pencil cases while the models have been neatly packed , old fading newspapers depicting the latest in the bollywood circles.
And that is when you wake up.
Picture this.It's the first day of your vacations, and you wake up when the sun's already halfway up, hungover because of the bliss and sheer pleasure of not having to do anything , and I repeat anything for the whole day. but who says happiness lasts long anyway ( well,it does in fairy tales and classic-how-we-met-each-other-stories where everything ends with a "happily ever after")
There you are,having hopped,skipped and jumped across your room, not as a celebratory jig, but because of the sheer lack of space to move about.layers of sheets flood your room,a tsunami of subjects crawling all over you. pieces of paper flutter by, carrying remnants of old conversations and made up games.You see a pencil here and a broken set square there,and as you sift through the almost fossilized layers of junk, you unearth chocolate wrappers and crisp packets that helped you through those exam nights while you crammed in an years worth of notes in an hour.
you flash back to the present,wishing that the junk would have had mysteriously disappeared, having had fantastical visions including a self cleaning mop and a robot which eats rubbish.
But it doesn't.
A vacation,indeed.
