It’s a rather exhilarating experience to give your last lab exam. You come out from it with a smile, notwithstanding the fact that you might have messed it up wonderfully. It’s a sense of victory, relief at the fact that you never have to go back there again, or as a friend put it, a survivor’s pride.
You could see the strain in her eyes. She was actually lifting it, the mountain of Mandaranchal on her shoulders, with the Gods and Asuras of yore by her side. The Mizhavu drums kept a wavering beat in the background, keeping tempo, even as she tried, and failed, tried and failed again.
I sat down to write this editorial with something of a similar mindset. It has been a year that I have been venting my CDC related frustration in sporadic rants in the cover-page of our largely (un)read newsletters. The year has been spent trying our best to cover most of the events happening in this campus of ours, and hoping that they are read. I find myself sitting down now, handing over the same job to the next generation hoping that they will be more successful at it.
The Audi was mostly empty. It was a Kudiyattam performance, a 2000 year old Sanskrit theatre form of Kerala. A handful of enthusiasts were sitting on a makeshift semi-stage in front of the main stage. The main performer, danseuse Kapila Venu, was enacting the first part of the Samudra Manthan story. In that part, the Devas and the Asuras were lifting the Mount Mandaranchal to make it the churning tool for the samudra manthan. The dance was of their struggle.
A friend once told me that BITS was like our own little kingdom, with its quaint customs and rules. Three years on, those dreams of a kingdom of my own has been long gone. I hand down those dreams and allusions to a new order, fresher in spirit. It’s a journey worth taking.
She rose, her whole body quivering under the weight of the mountain. Her eyes darted to and fro. She stood there, her movements slow, elegant even as her shoulders stooped under its weight. The beats of the Mizhavu were reaching a crescendo.
A drop of sweat fell, glistening in the darkness.
The audience broke into applause.
The real world beckons all too strongly. I have to but answer its call. This is me signing off for the last time as a denizen of my own kingdom, with a title that I shall fondly cherish.
Ed.
P.S.- A big thank you to my club and all its members for this wonderful year. I might have cribbed, but guys were the best lot I could have asked for. Thanks again for making this journey so memorable.
