The W's had always kept her occupied, Manasvi. The Whys and Whens and Whats and company. As she was growing up, nothing of global warming, immediate politics or sports fanaticism kept her as concerned as the W's. She was one of those nerdy ones in the class, who would record an interesting conversation at school. This is her entry from when she was in standard eight. She had gone against the grain of her natural mettle in choosing Maths over Geography.
March 9th, 1997. Why do people embarrass me unnecessarily. I do not wish to be the one with 'potential'. I like my cycling, my chatting and my aaloo-chaat. The teachers were correct when they were shocked at having me chosen Advanced Maths. Dumb fools. I just want a letter. Who cares what I pursue after that? I liked the question Miss Catherine asked me though, in her little corner, warm and caring as usual. "What is your favourite subject, Manasvi?" I took some time and answered, "People". No. I think I like my answer better than her question. Mine has more merit. Merit never counts though. Letter-marks do. Hence, Maths!
Manasvi Brahma still remains rather preoccupied with the W's. She persisted with her habit of recording conversations, overheard or imagined, between people, her favourite subject. This morning, while she was at her job, putting carefully selected chemicals on infant plants in her lab, for she went on to become this outstanding researcher, she noticed out of her window, the two sweepers sharing a sly smoke, perhaps considering that researchers never get distracted. Manasvi, however, recorded What could have possibly gone on in their conversation. For her lunch, as she walked out, she was still wondering:
S1: We do the hard work, have biris and these students earn the money and have Wills.
S2: Why do you care? Did you study enough? Hey, how's your son?
S1: I will make sure he studies and earns enough to have Wills. You know that golden packet?
S2: Hahaha. Mine is barely managing the pass-grades. Guess he will inherit my job, and biris.
S1: Hey, how's your sex-life?
S2: Boring. Tiring. Yours?
S1: Same. Oh, the lunch bell. Let's get back.
Even as she was scooping her portion of daal on her rice at the canteen, she was thinking about them. And while she thought, she accidentally used her hands to eat, just like in old times, without washing them. Immersed in chemicals, her thoughts went chaotic within minutes. She was rushed to the medical-unit. She recovered within a week, to resume the experiment, and the observations outside the experiments. The last she remembered of the last week was the greatest and constant W of her life.
What am I even doing here? The stretcher guy has come out of a fight with his wife and the driver of the ambulance is sick of his siren. Well, I should be Writing!
March 9th, 1997. Why do people embarrass me unnecessarily. I do not wish to be the one with 'potential'. I like my cycling, my chatting and my aaloo-chaat. The teachers were correct when they were shocked at having me chosen Advanced Maths. Dumb fools. I just want a letter. Who cares what I pursue after that? I liked the question Miss Catherine asked me though, in her little corner, warm and caring as usual. "What is your favourite subject, Manasvi?" I took some time and answered, "People". No. I think I like my answer better than her question. Mine has more merit. Merit never counts though. Letter-marks do. Hence, Maths!
Manasvi Brahma still remains rather preoccupied with the W's. She persisted with her habit of recording conversations, overheard or imagined, between people, her favourite subject. This morning, while she was at her job, putting carefully selected chemicals on infant plants in her lab, for she went on to become this outstanding researcher, she noticed out of her window, the two sweepers sharing a sly smoke, perhaps considering that researchers never get distracted. Manasvi, however, recorded What could have possibly gone on in their conversation. For her lunch, as she walked out, she was still wondering:
S1: We do the hard work, have biris and these students earn the money and have Wills.
S2: Why do you care? Did you study enough? Hey, how's your son?
S1: I will make sure he studies and earns enough to have Wills. You know that golden packet?
S2: Hahaha. Mine is barely managing the pass-grades. Guess he will inherit my job, and biris.
S1: Hey, how's your sex-life?
S2: Boring. Tiring. Yours?
S1: Same. Oh, the lunch bell. Let's get back.
Even as she was scooping her portion of daal on her rice at the canteen, she was thinking about them. And while she thought, she accidentally used her hands to eat, just like in old times, without washing them. Immersed in chemicals, her thoughts went chaotic within minutes. She was rushed to the medical-unit. She recovered within a week, to resume the experiment, and the observations outside the experiments. The last she remembered of the last week was the greatest and constant W of her life.
What am I even doing here? The stretcher guy has come out of a fight with his wife and the driver of the ambulance is sick of his siren. Well, I should be Writing!
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Even in the randomness of accidents there is precision with a vision to the future…
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