Reflections ……

The last four years of my existence has been the most eventful of the miserable 19 I have suffered. I have perhaps learnt more in the last two than all the rest put together. My first 17 years has been much like that of a lamb on a farm, just as blissful and oblivious about the perils that lay ahead, placing much faith on the very hands which later held the blade. Unlike my comrade I survived, but just about. To be fair it hasn’t all been bad, to be honest it’s mostly been good, it’s these last two years which have made it a bit acrid, acrid enough to vitiate the rest. People I know tell me I shouldn’t be complaining, that others have it way worse, “as in look at you, you did pretty well for your boards, we all know how much you worked for it, made it to one of the best universities in the country, look at X, he ain’t complaining”. True, but then neither am I, atleast not about the things X is not (and this is perhaps why they are ‘people I know’, and not ‘people who know me’). All I am saying is that two years back, misanthropist was one of the myriad of inconsequential words I learnt up in the hope of cracking the very exam which put me here, not something I thought would one day primarily define me. I don’t know when the transition happened, maybe living in the hostel with others of my kind, being forced to interact with them on a scale I had not done previously made me see them for what they really were, to unravel the veneer that each had so meticulously put up, some discreet, some not so; each coming with a standard issue knife, each waiting for some sign of vulnerability to plunge it in. But I am not complaining; for I am no different, for I am after all one of their kind, I suffer from a similar affliction, I am every bit the scheming bastard as any of them. I still smile like I used to, atleast put up a stupid grin if nothing else, but in my mind, I wish I could knock the air out of him, pin him to the ground, and plunge my standard issue slowly through his heart, watch him writhe in pain, beg for mercy, apologise for every jab he has ever taken, promise to put away his knife for ever, while already plotting how to get back up on his feet and give me a fatal blow. I am not complaining. For it is here that I have discovered true friendship, learnt the value of loyalty, found the few I trust, found the few I don’t want to pin down. For abundance makes you complacent, scarcity makes you conscious. I am perhaps luckier than the rest in this aspect, for there aren’t many who are similarly endowed, for most choose to play with fire.

I look back and the grin turns into a smirk. I had to survive I tell myself, it aint no fun being a lamb, you either hold the blade, or you are under it.