Red Rose. Red rose, with its glowing redness, sweetness -- for sweetness comes along with the act of perceiving rose's metaphor. Mild breeze and the rose plant. Shining summer day and the rose plant. Days, every passing days and the rose plant. Smiling, giggling roses on the rose plant. The idea of roses gain prominence over the existence of the rose plant. But roses die! Small black lines inscribe it. Roses die! But who suffers the seclusion out of this death -- the plant which lives the life of rose, or the one who imagines the metaphor of rose ? The thought that emanates from the occlusion of a tender flower, the thought that suffers the tyranny of death of flower; how much that thought is cared of ? Roses die. The perceiver of beauty of a rose caught by the emotion of death of rose suffers. Moves. Moves, but frequent honing of the aura of rose plant calls him. For there is a thought that the plant will remedy his vision. For he prays to God for the days. But the next time, the cold, the lack luster, unknown, remote coziness of the plant; the dry, lifeless lone branch where the flower earlier used to be, haunts him ... silences him. Introspection says -- "why you wished again to have the glimpse of the rose plant" ?
Results have come. I passed this year also with usual mental peace. Finally, after almost twenty years of passages, I have no more usual academic class to go through. There will be no more class tests, no more subjects, no more college projects, no more round making across college campus and yes no more spicy stories. You will tell me, okay you can have PhD yaar, but then I will respond back -- "no more interest". My career was never rosy and also it was never pale, it never made me jump high, but it never made be feel remorsed, it was a typical career of an average Indian student. I still remember how much it was tough to study Geography in school days and how many times my Father used to mention me exam schedules. I always disliked going to class and I will wonder if my average attendance through out my career will be more than 60%. Well, the white shirt and navy blue short was always boring to wear. I remember the first day when I cheated from my friend the definition of
आपके विचार पढना और ब्लॉग पर आना अच्छा लगा ! लिखते रहिए !
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