A friend's birthday, and for the first time in a long while (a week), it was the night mess for me. I've been trying to maintain a healthy sleep cycle, the norms of healthy being 'early to bed and early to rise'. Anyway, on my way back, I noticed the hostel watchman reading off of a small book, perhaps the size of a dictionary. Whether it was a dictionary, or a religious book of sorts, I know not, nor did I ask, for Hindi isn't my forte ("kya pad rahe hai aap" - did I say that right?). The thing that piqued me was how this good man was up at an hour when most of our watchmen are, ironically, sound asleep, reading. Under the dim white glow of a tube-light high above, he sat against the wall cross-legged, and squinted queerly at the small font whose language I could not discern from my position.
The joys of reading! How I wish we could put aside all these troubles, this routine, to just sit in a corner somewhere with a book in our hands! The simplicity, the sheer priceless simplicity of the entire matter! How much I'd give for those holidays to last forever - holidays when I'd be up until four o'clock with a thick A Song of Ice and Fire book or one of the Dune sequels (irrelevant, but I'm talking hardcore Frank Herbert, not his son, the usurper!). A few of you may find the idea dull and boring, but a few more would relish it. One of my dreams, alongside flying and Mars-to-stay, has always been the idea of owning a wooden-floored library, with a thick floor-rug and a sinfully padded armchair, lit only by yellow lights reminiscent of the kerosene lamps of the 1860s.
The joys of reading! How I wish we could put aside all these troubles, this routine, to just sit in a corner somewhere with a book in our hands! The simplicity, the sheer priceless simplicity of the entire matter! How much I'd give for those holidays to last forever - holidays when I'd be up until four o'clock with a thick A Song of Ice and Fire book or one of the Dune sequels (irrelevant, but I'm talking hardcore Frank Herbert, not his son, the usurper!). A few of you may find the idea dull and boring, but a few more would relish it. One of my dreams, alongside flying and Mars-to-stay, has always been the idea of owning a wooden-floored library, with a thick floor-rug and a sinfully padded armchair, lit only by yellow lights reminiscent of the kerosene lamps of the 1860s.
So a watchman made me profess my love for something on the less technical side. I'll further my claim by saying that I have a deep regard for the arts. Yes, I said something almost blasphemous to the modern-day engineer. How does art - something so careless, so fragile, as to be unbound by physical laws - make its way into the heart of an engineer-to-be? It's simple, there never was a distinction in the first place. The science I fell in love with was romantic, poetic! Mathematics were art, nothing was defined but the obvious. Obvious, naturally-occurring traits developed into transcendental 'laws', all the way from approximately 3000 B.C. to the present day. And what is art if not something so complicated made of something so simple? A few brushstrokes can depict the state of your mind, and a few notes can sing its song.
I wistfully look at how everything has been made so mechanical that we take little pleasure from it - no more visualizing your engineering graphics diagrams, instead follow a set of steps! No need to tackle a problem purely by utilizing basic concepts, for there will always be another who has practiced ten similar problems who can race you to the solution. Yes, competitiveness does indeed have its flaws. We pray more for a number than for joy and hope et al. Not that any of this is bad. No virtuoso is created by giving a man an organ! Yet, I feel that something is missing, something profound enough to discredit any overthought I may have indulged in while writing this text.
It's simple really, and often something that is found amongst the captions in a multitude of seaside, coconut-tree pictures: live life to the fullest! How this rant-like monologue turned into an adolescent life lesson oozing with clichés is irrelevant, but if you do wish to know, here goes: "drill into that problem like it's hiding an oil well beneath it!", "delve into the deepest crevasse of your mind to find the elusive, ever-lost x!", "kick that ball like it's an annoying pigeon on your air conditioner (no offense EPAC, PETA)!", "slide into that solo like it's dripping acetone on a sultry summer noon!", "kiss her profoundly; let an image of you be imprinted upon her momory forever!", "eat that gatta curry like it's a boar from an Asterixian banquet!" You have no problems, brother. Only seas and oceans of unbidden delights.
