I have been wanting to write on this blog since ever but haven't had any time because of the rigor of academics at IIML. Well, I am not really up there when it comes to the stakes but certainly it has taken time to get used to the work schedule here. Another thing that has nudged me to write again is the fact of my subscribing to newspapers after a gap of nearly four months. Yes, this former journalist has not had a newspaper dropped to his room for four crazy months. And now that I am getting them again, I realise how much I missed them. There was a newspaper-shaped hole in my life, yes!
That happens to be my room at IIML. This picture was taken months ago and the room is in sufficiently better condition now, both in terms of its look and hygiene. Life here passes by in one continuous strand of activity. You wake up, attend classes, have lunch, sleep a little, get together for projects, prepare for quizzes, have dinner, study some more, read the newspaper, sleep, wake up and so on. It is a rigour that one takes a while getting used to, but one that one comes to enjoy after a while. If only because it lends such structure to one's lonely days and nights.
Which reminds me, friendships need to be cultivated, yes. I realised that a little late in the day, but once I did, I learnt that happiness and friends need to be engaged actively for them to have meaning in your life. And it can be a rewarding experience, taking you out of yourself and reminding you that at 28, you are still relatively young.
For sometime after coming here, I was literally living two lives in one person. One, the life of my former self, given to gravid pondering and the other, trying to be cheery, overtly so. But now,I have set myself into more stable ways, as exemplified by my status message on Facebook a few days back: "The contemplative life and the forceful life must meet, only then can one be happy!"
Also, speaking out and working one's charm offensive on others (presuming one has it) can do wonders for one's soul. Vanity does have its advantages. Especially for someone who made a living out of words, to be suddenly deprived of a ready source of expression can mean death. And so, this!