Memories

"Every day, a page turned down; every night, a lonesome sound,
Like a freight train rollin' through my dreams:
Every mile, a memory."
-Dierks Bentley

With every beginning, there comes an end. For some it comes earlier than others. These last few weeks have seen a chapter close in the story here in the Tartan World. About one-third of my class survived the tortuous, as well as many fun times here, to enable an early escape, somewhat unscathed with something we all came here to achieve, their Master's degree. First, let me congratulate them on this accomplishment.
[Edit: The rest of us hope to be done by May. ]

Of course, we have never been a bunch to shy away from extracting humor from a situation. So as the graduates prepared to leave, we all gathered together to talk about memories, and first impressions. We spoke about times past, and times yet to come. We spoke about connections, and things we will never forget. And all this while, we spoke about friendship.

Nearly two years together, and a bond formed between everyone. The bond may have been stronger with some than it was with others, but it ran through like a twine that connected each one of us. There are still many things that we can claim to be exclusive to us here at the INI.

There were many highlights of these 2 evenings that we have had so far. Stories narrated about everyone present. Recollections made, jokes cracked. In the end, I have to finish with my most hearty congratulations to P and S for taking the next step in their lives. They have come through here, and will leave INI with not only their Master's but something that, I am sure, will be much much more important later in life.

Its in the air...

Walking home from school last night, passed a normally ordinary bus stop. The bus stop, a lifeline on campus, is the starting and terminating point of the airport shuttle. And for students, nothing has more meaning than a way to get home. :-)

Last night, however, was different. Festivity rang through the atmosphere. Was it because of the day? A festival of colors in India, a holy weekend here. Or was it just a special night for a few special people? Whatever it was, it was beautiful.

A bus stop with satin cushions on the bench. A small table with a tea-pot and a tea cup. The walls of the stop covered with paintings, and the curtains drawn back.

A charming sight.

(Extra)Ordinary People

He always thought there was something fishy about them. The two years of intense work that they seem to put in. The fruits they bear may be ripe, but to an outsider it always seems to be short lived. Yet, his biases were always strong, and to him, the job of management should be earned not handed over to some infants of the corporate world.

That was before he knew people who were on that side of the fence. His side always seemed like the "right" place. Many friends, however, saw otherwise, and walked the bridge into that part of the world.

Thats when he got exposed to what that world really was. The effervescent and confused souls that they were, they now give the impression of being composed and well thought out. What impressed him most was the way they could pick up on any topic that came up, and glibly carry on a conversation about as if it was their pet topic and they nursed it right from inception.

It doesn't stop there. He had never seen such attentiveness, and sense of drive. His world was full of aimlessness, and lack of direction.

But then, they really aren't ordinary people.