Mufasa is here 👆

Sometimes I too wanna run away to far far land. A little cottage of ours and paths will be drawn. In the dawn we'd wake up just to see our tanned faces under orange sky. We would laugh together and in each other's arms we will cry. Through the mountains and the rivers, we'll find a way to be together. We'll walk down to plains, we'll follow the trails. You would stand atop of the rocks and I'll shout, come back !

I need someone to tell me yes I believe in things we cannot see

The world's hanging over me The glow keeps me company

Can I feel your hands on my arms? Lavender blows through the room

I know it's not the ending yet Sleep next to me like no one does No, you're the only one No, you're the only one No, you're the only one No, you're the only one

Everything went silent except trees still whispering under rustling of leaves. Most of them were young, just thirty forty years old. They were healthy ones who were cared and carved for beautification.

They've had seen the things that I found hard to believe. They whispered how roads now used to be clean, they whispered how noisy it has become to be, they whispered how different air felt to be.

For me it felt the same, same as seventeen years before, when I was born. Yes, recently my eyes had begin to burn but it weren't the air.

In a moment, silent broke as a bike almost injured me by mere centimetres. I came out of my summer delusion as I saw the tree in front of me smiling.

Sometimes days feel much longer as if someone forced Earth to move slower. And on it's own burden Earth seems to stop for moments, stopping moments. At for time everything seems to be stuck.

Funny, how we're nothing but a fragment in this large lump of time. Even fragment's a too big for our human lives. Yet we celebrate our attachments and grieve on detachment. Nonetheless every breath feels special as if our little world does revolve around us than Sun. Every shriek, every scream we do makes the sun flare. It affects around us. It appears as if everything is going too fast or too slow.

In void.

Not in control.

A loud 'humm'

No more moment.

Shimmering stardust.

Wide body, tall strature, broad shoulders. The building was proud to be privileged. Counteless windows it possessed to see foolish people below him. People working, suffering and dying, while it stood there strong and alive. High in the sky.

I often find the slapped boy watching the building. He wanted to be strong and resilient as the bricks, he wanted to rule this building. Little did he know, to be the top of the pyramid he needed people working under him. He would have to be corrupt and deceitful as the brass. The brass shining on top of pyramid as if it's the gold itself. But right now, the boy was not worth even a handful of iron nails, let alone to be brass or bronze. He was just a grain of sand, blowing as far as the wind wanted.

I passed by the family silently without seeing them because everytime I see them building for us, they break me down. Sometimes I wonder if they celebrate Mother's Day or Women's Day. Mother is of course a working mother and she deserves to be celebrated like any other working woman. In some moments it is realized that she would not even know that such a day is also celebrated in the world.

Ignoring them, I walked ahead. There was a traffic on the other side of roads. Cars laughing and cracking jokes with each other, hooting like it's the end of time. While this side, it was empty. A vibrant auto whizzed by at a slow speed. The road was constructed for smooth surface cars. The road was necessary anyway, otherwise many people would have come to know that the poorest of the poor are living at the mercy of the rich on this very road. So they divided. One side rich other the slum.

The scene freezes

I wanted to blame people and the policies,

almost had a breakdown

but controlling myself, I knew I could do it just fine.

Picture this: it's early morning, with winter's icy grip or the scorching heat of summer making life unbearable. But what's worse? The first lecture of the day, held at a torturous 8:30 a.m. slot. And what's the subject? SEC (short for "Survival in the Education Chaos") - Innovation & Entrepreneurship. Sounds cool, right? Well, think again.

Now, our esteemed professor for this subject happens to be a self-proclaimed marketing genius. Instead of diving into the syllabus, this person takes it upon themselves to enlighten the class about their favorite topics: philosophy and marketing. No, seriously, folks, not a single class was dedicated to the actual curriculum. When students questioned this bizarre approach, their response was nothing short of mind-boggling: "It's a practical subject, I'll manage it." Well, isn't that reassuring?

Fast forward to today, where the plot thickens. Our professor, the embodiment of ignorance, has unleashed an unprecedented bombshell upon us. Brace yourselves for this one: they have just sent us the entire syllabus and material for the entire semester. And guess what? They expect us to study and be ready for a viva within the span of a single day. I kid you not!

Can we just take a moment to process this sheer lack of accountability? It's like the professor is playing a game of "How to Crush Your Students' Spirits 101" and winning it with flying colors. How on earth are we supposed to cram an entire semester's worth of material into our exhausted brains in just twenty-four hours? It's simply impossible.

But here's the kicker, folks: this sad reality is just a glimpse of the larger issue at hand. The legendary DU, touted as the epitome of higher education in India, often falls short of the romanticized image painted by society. It's a place where privilege and reputation overshadow the stark realities faced by students day in and day out.

I'd rather carry ocean in my eyes, than to cry in front of you.

This week had been quite hectic compared to any other this month. I had to submit multiple assignments, gave a test and two presentations; most weren't in same days. So, I'd to make a trouble going to college regularly.

Yes, my PPT is in brownish orange color. Many people I come across do not like this color. I like it for it makes me connected with ground. To know whatever I do, one day I'll meet this ground and it would embrace me without any daubt. Beauty of the brown I suppose..

Well, some things went fine while others didn't go as planned but in the end I think I am satisfied. I'm tired like a panda and can eat dozens of bamboo sticks. Basically right now I'm the most normal college kid.

I've another test and ppt next week. I'm pretty sure there will be 2 more practicals as well :)