Not quite Hammered!

Yes people today was hindi! The final exam! Yippie right? Well not really. I have my entrances beginning in about three weeks....And this time, well I'm pretty much screwed. But there is still a chance I may be wrong. There may be a chance that I might just finish the two year course in a mere three weeks, studying 23 hours and 56 minutes a day. Aah well! We can only hope! But you see, it does cut into my very busy schedule of....lying around.

Today was a day that brought many surprises. First, I woke up and realised - O MY GOD THERE'S HINDI TODAY!!! Ok I should have seen that coming. But I was really not ready for what happenned next. My sleep the previous night cannot be termed 'honey sweet' (but then again, whoever describes his sleep as 'honey sweet'?) I was aware of a constant chattering, a bat-struggling-against-the-wall-to-try-and-get-out-but-it-couldn't because-it-was-as-blind-as-a-bat
kind of noise, u know, the type you normally get before a second language paper which nobody cares about. At first I thought it was the great winged Japanese nymphomaniac geisha in my dream. No, wait...that's another story. So anyway, I found myself alternating between irksome preiods of dream and reality. It was only when the first ray of light crept in through my paneless (damn painters had to remove the glass panes) and curtainless(damn maid had to wash the curtains) window, that I realised there was something struggling against the ceiling on the far corner of my room! O my god! Was that a bat-struggling-against-the-wall-to-try-and-get-out-but-it-couldn't because-it-was-as-blind-as-a-bat?
If yes then why would there be a bat-struggling-against-the-wall-to-try-and-get-out in my room? Where did it come from anyway? Was Batman finally here? Not bothering to ponder such vexing questions, I slowly reached out to grab my tennis racquet,(I use it more as a pesticide than a racquet nowadays anyway. (See what I did there? A pest'icide'? A bat...a pest...committed su'icide' by entering my territory. You get it! I should give you a little bit more credit. Well maybe not all three of you. Hey Arijit you better be reading this! I just made a joke on you! So hah!)) and went swinging away at my little friend there. I like to think of all the little critters I mercilessly slaughter, burn, smash, squish, decapitate as my little friends. Who's a better pal than the person who puts you out of your misery?...who gently helps you out of an enclosed hell hole(my room) by sending you spinning into...well, a whole new place! As the poor little creature lay struggling and streaming gooey stuff all over my marble floor, I yelled out in the most savage show of testosterone possible - THIS IS SPARTAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! As the jarring rock music in my head came to a fading end, I realised I should have shouted that BEFORE I mercifully thumped it! Oh well! What the heck?

Speaking of little friends, I really thought 'Sacchi Mitrata' would be a part of the hindi paper. That's a poem you can just keep rambling senselessly on and on about.(kind of like I'm doing now) Who can't write about what friends should and shouldn't do? They buy you stuff, they praise you in front of shitload of people, believe you when you say an xbox 360 is called so because it costs 360 bucks, wash your underwear, shake the drops off for you after you pee....well so on and so forth. Imagine my disappointment when I stared blank at the ominously white piece of paper, and read the names of poems I had never heard of before! Imagine my anger at the cursed person who told me "Dude you gotta do this poem man, it's the only thing that can come" Well a good backstabbing saccha mitra you are!! Fortunately, I was in top notch as I scribbled on and on, using words the examiner will never have heard before. Come to think of it, even I haven't heard them before. Hell, do they even exist? Two of my pens actually stopped writing( I think they just lost the urge to write in my hands, the one thing they were mechanically put together for).Three deaths at my hands this day so far...5 minutes left till times' up I turned to the guy behind me -

"Dude I need a pen!"

"Hold on!"

"Dammit man! I need it now!"

"Keep your pants on!"

"GIVE ME A PEN YOU FUCKING MORON!"

The guy gave me the most hateful glare ever - but 5 minutes left and the last exam on your schedule - It's hard to give a shit. Anyway, I think the whole hall heard me that moment. The invigilator gave me the most hateful glare ever. The guy who brought the food from the canteen gave me the most hateful glare ever.The bengali student in front of me gave me the most hateful glare ever.Geez! I'd never turn my head 180 degrees around for anything, let alone giving people the most hateful glare ever.

Time was up and I had just scribbled the last undecipherable word as the invigilator spoke - "Time's up!"I struggled to tie the sheets of paper together as one of the invigilator's trusted sidekicks stood beside me with a look of benevolent patience on his face. He was an obese, rotund, chubby cheeked, sweaty, pompous football and the first thing you'd like to do when you see a person like that is poke him in the stomach and see if his adipose is bouncy enough to spring back and fill up the depression of its own accord. Footballs always do.

"Sir I haven't written my name on this second sheet, do I have to?"

"I'm sorry," came the curt reply and he stared back at me stoically.
I returned his apparantly steely stare for a good 3 seconds before attempting to write my name on the paper again, thinking he'd be too slow to realise what I'd just done. Well I've got news for you - some fat people are really fast! He grabbed the answer sheet from in front of me with a heartfelt "I'm sorry" and a look of sincere compassion on his face.

"It's alright son,"I muttered as he dragged his cumbersome behind to the next desk.

He turned to give me the most hateful glare ever! In the words of the great Chanakya - "Blood has been spilt this day. Things bad begun make themselves worse by ill" Or was that Macbeth?
Well I used it anyway. As I played football to celebrate my one day of freedom after the exams, somebody passed the ball to me. As it crept up slowly to my foot, I looked at the football and immediately was reminded of the fat, sweaty old man who had snatched the paper mercilessly from me. I poked it...and it did spring back! I gave it the most hateful glare ever!