Dozing off during lecture…

Date; Quite frankly, I am too disoriented to recall it.

Location; Classroom ( the same place that Sleeping beauty had cursed with intolerable somnolence years ago and fell asleep herself as the curse backfired. )

Dear notebook

Either I am turning Narcoleptic or this Lecture is actually a heavy dose of anesthesia. And I mean no offence but I really, really am trying hard to stay awake. I am literally counting every second in hopes of shedding this dreadful heaviness off my eyes but this clock is ticking so slow that this strategy is back firing and all I am getting is even more urge to sleep. Time is crawling and I am sure the wrist watch on my hand has got pretty much scared of this dopey face of mine that keeps flashing in front of it every now and then and the act that might have once seemed cute to it, has gone far beyond being creepy.

As I was struggling to keep my eyelids open and epically failing in doing so, my body swinging to a rhythm of uncanny sleeping routine, I decided to use one and only tool I have to fight the pitiable state of mine.

So, here I am writing.

I wish I could pen down some notes instead of penning down my thoughts, dear notebook , but I have tasted this delicious sin and I can’t make myself to not do it. Precisely because;

  • Self control sucks.
  • I am hopelessly addicted to it.

I have experienced the time passing through a black hole in so many lectures and the fact suggests that I must have felt the semesters passing by but quite surprisingly I haven’t.

And this is what we are going to talk about dear notebook;

Time and the way it deceives our mind. And Vice versa.

I know you expect some drives and motors and rectifiers, notebook, but Nah-uh. Not happening. I am diary-zoning you.

What is it with time?

Time is such a weird entity that nobody seems to understand it. And yet the term is there in every language and used so frequently that sometimes we forget that this thing is still unfamiliar to us!

The word time brings an image of clock in our heads but it doesn’t seem fair to confine it to two weird stout and slim ladies making rounds through the very same twelve sectors again and again. Time is more than that. It’s so much more mind boggling than that.

Time seems to matter so much to us but our brain doesn’t seem to give many fucks to it. There is no organ in brain that is dedicated especially to act as timer.

Our brain has the freedom to treat time the way it pleases. It can fuck up with the sixty seconds of a minute or sixty minutes of an hour. It can fuck up with dates. It can fuck up with history. It can fuck up with everything and you can just sit there and watch and grow old and die.

What it is with our mind and the time?

And why does the relationship between these two faceless thingies is so weird and so difficult to understand?

And can we put this weird relationship to our advantage? At least a little?

Can we train our brain to treat time the way we want to? Can we slow the speed of the passing years and fasten the speed of the passing hour?

Oh! Please, I am too sleepy to answer all this but I know someone (well, sort of) who can.

Claudia Hammond.

Who is she?

The author of the book; Time warped.

Time warped is a book which attempts to answer many interesting questions about time. And though it might not be able to cover all the weird questions that we bear in our mind about time but it’s worth your time. 😉

I am not advertising anything. But I mentioned it because, you know, I read it recently. Thought you should too.

I feel less sleepy now but the lecture has ended, so I guess it’s time to end this book-review-and-scribbling-to-stay-awake –diary-entry-and-then-later-a-blog post thingy as well.






Another day; same love story

Another day
Moon sits alone, now the stars are gone,
But a smile brightens her face as he walks in with the dawn…
A brief period of embrace, a much awaited unison,
Clouds dance in joy as they bath in the hues of yellow, orange and crimson…
Then comes the time to bid an awaiting adieu,
The moon dies,
The sun cries,
And the sky grieves into a million mild shades of blue…

The time goes by and the sun continues to storm,
Anger steaming,
Earth burning,
Mad in grief, how could he care about the norms!
But here she comes as if she had never gone,
Tears are no longer sad!
Wild in happiness, he is no longer mad!
Drenched in amazement, he dances in joy!

Madly in love, he is back being a little boy!
The hues comes back, the clouds resume to dance,
Gazing each other, they celebrate their second chance,
But soon they sense something is wrong,
Sun has to go and he can stand no long,

Here comes another time to bid an awaiting adieu,
The moon cries,
The sun dies,
And the sky grieves into a million dark shades of blue…

Stars wonder what to do,
They twinkle realizing they don’t have a clue,
Silently they smile at the painful picturesque parting,
For they know for every love that’s true, end always precedes the starting.”





“Down below,

amongst the filth and the dirt,

 Here we all stand,

disheveled and hurt,

 What could we do, except grieving over scars…

But Oh! The madness!

Some of us are looking at the stars!”




{The original quote is by Oscar Wilde which is as follows:

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” }