Warangal
His eyes are misty, because of the visions of the past
The movie of life is ending and vanishing is its cast
He takes a long drag at his cigarette, and stares outside
He sees himself at Warangal, with his friends by his side.
Those days spent in terrified self imprisonment
Just to escape the seniors and their forgettable punishment
The eagerness to celebrate the Fresher’s Day
When with whom he feared, he could play.
The early morning classes, which he thought were a pain
Now he craves those times come back again.
The heavy lunches and the afternoon lab tensions
The struggle for a five minute, peaceful sleeping session.
The slog in those fleeting nights, just before the exams
To satiate, the ruthless professors and all their tantrums.
The post mortems at the canteen about how he fared
The prospects of a GPA slump, which would leave him scared.
The endless nights he spent with AOE and Quake.
Going to Sinnu’s for a much deserved break
The pointless debates and the intellectual conversations
The scrambled noises of everyone’s expectations
Those drunken nights and the days so wasted
The miserable fights which he so hated
The scurrying around for the campus offer
The griping about, what he got was never proper.
Those times he walked round the LH lawn
In the evenings and sometimes at dawn
Hoping that the girl he doted would smile at him
Alas it still remains an unfulfilled dream.
The rush before noon, for chicken at the mess
The dinners at Kalinga, even when the dimes were scarce
The cricket and football, he played in the scorching heat
The quizzes and the books he exchanged to read.
From this stupor he is suddenly shaken
Checks his watch to see that he is not mistaken.
It is nine in the morning, not a time to daze
He has to head for work and into the monitor,endlessly gaze.
The movie of life is ending and vanishing is its cast
He takes a long drag at his cigarette, and stares outside
He sees himself at Warangal, with his friends by his side.
Those days spent in terrified self imprisonment
Just to escape the seniors and their forgettable punishment
The eagerness to celebrate the Fresher’s Day
When with whom he feared, he could play.
The early morning classes, which he thought were a pain
Now he craves those times come back again.
The heavy lunches and the afternoon lab tensions
The struggle for a five minute, peaceful sleeping session.
The slog in those fleeting nights, just before the exams
To satiate, the ruthless professors and all their tantrums.
The post mortems at the canteen about how he fared
The prospects of a GPA slump, which would leave him scared.
The endless nights he spent with AOE and Quake.
Going to Sinnu’s for a much deserved break
The pointless debates and the intellectual conversations
The scrambled noises of everyone’s expectations
Those drunken nights and the days so wasted
The miserable fights which he so hated
The scurrying around for the campus offer
The griping about, what he got was never proper.
Those times he walked round the LH lawn
In the evenings and sometimes at dawn
Hoping that the girl he doted would smile at him
Alas it still remains an unfulfilled dream.
The rush before noon, for chicken at the mess
The dinners at Kalinga, even when the dimes were scarce
The cricket and football, he played in the scorching heat
The quizzes and the books he exchanged to read.
From this stupor he is suddenly shaken
Checks his watch to see that he is not mistaken.
It is nine in the morning, not a time to daze
He has to head for work and into the monitor,endlessly gaze.
posted by avishek at 12:04 AM
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