What’s Up

Hello again.

So, the month of July is at its end, and as promised, ‘Black Rose’ now has a collection of two hundred posts, the last sixteen of which were published this month, under the new category ‘Autumn’. Now I realize it may be a huge overstepping to assume you have loved each and every chapter in the category, but I hope you liked it overall, and somehow connected through it, and may be even liked it chapter for chapter. Thank you for that, if it is so.

But it is time to move ahead. So what have I been up to while you were reading ‘Autumn’? Well for that I will have to begin from the beginning of July, and so it might be a long post, but I’ll try to bring it down to a small topic, postponing more minute details for later posts. Among happening things, I paid a visit to Agra. If that name strikes a chord with non-Indians, you’re probably not wrong. Agra holds in it one of the seven wonders of the world, the Taj Mahal. I’ll obviously not bore you with its descriptions, which you might have already learned time and again in history books or if you were ever doing a thesis on it, and so I’ll keep it short by saying, it was a good trip, but I think a trip in the winter would have probably helped me appreciate the Taj more than I did this time. Moving on, so, yeah I am an engineer now; which for those who are new to Indian college system, means that I have finished four years of my undergraduate studies and now have a ‘placement offer’, which really means that I work in a firm for nine hours a day to earn a living. Yeah, four years have passed, isn’t it sentimental? I had started this blog five months into my college. Long time. Anyhow, so while I work for most of the day, I do have free weekends when I try to do some writing for the blog, some learning up of vocabulary so that my future posts could have a little more of better words, new words. Neologism it is called, the making of new words; well that is something I learnt while learning new words. There.

In other news, when on one hand I have stopped reading ‘A Feast for Crows’, postponing it for a later time when I have lesser things on my mind, right now I am taking up two courses on Coursera, which I hope, would help me increase my value; to what extent, only time can say. Andrew Ng from Stanford has offered a course on Machine Learning, which is very interesting indeed; I urge you to look it up online sometime and may be take the course when it is offered the next time, you will probably have a very good time through it. Dan Boneh, also from Stanford, is offering a course on Cryptography, which is a bit difficult, at least for me, since I did not have the course in my college, but it is okay and kind of doable; you might want to go online and check the site for more courses which are better aligned to your interests.

Apart from that, what else is on my mind? I have started working out a little, so you might see a completely reformed ‘me’ in a few months from now. That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Coming to my blog, well August would be slightly less packed, and I think I will put up not many verses and prose around here this month, so that if you really want to read and haven’t read ‘Autumn’, may be you can read them up. I have an array of plans for this blog ahead, which will represent the new ‘Black Rose’, celebrating two hundred posts. You might see a shift in ideas, a change of paradigm, and a new approach to writing. Apart from that, I really want to delve more into analytical writing, and reviews, but I don’t know how much successful either of them would be. So I think I will start with analytical writing soon, writing on issues and interacting more with you, talking more about what your views are, and how they are aligned or not aligned with mine. So yes, that might be an interesting notion, which I may experiment with, soon.

Fiction. Well, no, I think I am not going to post much of fiction in the coming two months. For fiction, you will have to wait until October, when I promise I will bring to you a new dimension of fiction for this blog. They say though you might not always get what you wish for, you will always get what you work for. I want to put this thought into action and stop for now, and go do some work that might help me. Happy reading! And I hope the verses this month help you develop a keener sense of imagination, and a predilection towards fantasy.

How the Essay Spoke

Mr. Susanne then handed over the sheet to me. Stapled were two sheets of paper, A4 size, single ruled, with notes written in blue ink, cursive, beautiful. It seemed that whoever had written the essay had planned well before writing. Neatly written, without many scratches, the write-up would surely get a ten on ten if assessed on handwriting. I started reading it, knowing not why I was doing so, but knew that Mr. Susanne had asked me to, and so I ought to. Mr. Susanne was a teacher in the primary section of Edinburgh School, the most famous school in our town. He was an English teacher, however, frequently he also solved a bit of mathematics for his son, had he any doubt in them. Tall and lean, one could have hardly guessed he was in his late-fifties if not informed earlier. I then took out my spectacles from the pocket on the right hand side of my shirt. I was wearing a formal shirt today; it had been gifted by one of my old friends last month on my anniversary, and I hadn’t got a chance to wear it all these days. So when I opened my wardrobe today, I first glanced as usual through the whole wardrobe and, coming across this, I decided to wear it, and was consequently complimented by Susanne for doing so.

I was in the personal cabin of Susanne now. Although most teachers were allotted chairs in the staff room, Susanne had been allotted a separate cabin. There could be possibly two reasons for this. The more probable one would be his long stay at the school, for I remember he used to teach in the school even in the times when I studied there. Back to the essay, Susanne had said to keep in mind that it was a fictitious one, it started off,

“An Accident”

“Accidents are things that happen by mistake, of course, and that is why they are accidents, not deliberate attempts to harm people. They may occur with anyone, anywhere, anytime and the person involved may be slightly injured or seriously, and if fatal, it can also lead to death. However, the people involved in the accident are to be blamed too, for it may cause the life of a person too. Being an eye-witness to an accident is bad enough, however, being a part of an accident is worse than that. I narrate to you an account of what happened to me last year.

It was the season of festivals. The various festivals along with their pompous celebrations had instilled into everyone an urge of fun-making. In such a situation, people cannot stop but commit mistakes. In some other cases, people get overdrunk and run into accidents. Such a case happened that day, and I do not know whether fortunately or unfortunately, but I was involved in it. Not that I was drunk, not that I was driving fast, but only that I was crossing a busy street. Even then, I was very cautious, because, being here in this city for so long, I have learnt that people hardly care about the traffic rules, and that they could well run into anyone if the signals showed red. Moreover, there was a faith, because I was holding my father’s hand, and if I forgot to tell you, my father was with me all this while, and also my mother, because we were out together as a family.

Just as I was crossing the road, suddenly a car, I can bleakly remember, but it was a Volkswagen, although I don’t intend to blame the name of the company, because the entire fault was of the driver’s, rushed through the street, and even before I could realize, it ran into me and then I do not know what happened, because when my eyes opened, I was on bed number 5 in the children’s ward in the local hospital. I looked desperately for my right leg, but couldn’t see it. I had become lame, however, I could still see, smell, taste, feel and hear. All my senses were perfect, and I looked around and saw my parents sitting beside at the table. My father smiled wryly at the fact that I had finally opened my eyes, but no one could stop my mother from crying loudly, as if it were hers and not my leg that had disappeared.

Now, I am absolutely fine just like any other friend of mine, except that I need to use a pair of crutches, which hardly makes any difference to me.”

The essay ended there. It was written finely, and I admired at the imagination of the boy who had written it. He would grow up to be a great poet, or author, or script-writer may be, I thought. I turned around at Susanne to request to meet the boy, and it was then that I saw tears in his eyes, he was weeping, softly though, so that no one would hear. I asked him what happened, as I could see no reason to cry at such a beautiful piece of writing. He then said, “This was written yesterday morning, and yesterday afternoon, after the school ended, while he, the boy who you want to meet, was returning home, a car ran into him. The right leg was cut from the body, and the boy passed away on the spot.”