Subscribe Get your free monthly copy

Latest Issue

Follow feeds

Return To The Day Dreamer's Diary

By Edocsil
SLOTH
I snuggled against my pillow, pulled the blanket over my head and lost myself in deep slumber.  The book I had chosen to keep me company this rainy afternoon “Aunts are not Gentlemen” lay forgotten, discarded on a pile of dirty cloths. The general disarray in my room added  to the aesthetics of the scene. That reminded me, my mom fondly called my room the little pandemonium created by her sloth of a son. That pretty much summarized my lifestyle when left to fend for myself.
Well anyway there I was sleeping the afternoon away, when a ‘little’ kick on my door startled me. “By God! Which SOB decided to grace me with his presence today…?”, I thought, as I dragged myself to the door , opened it and got back into bed with the expression of a dead goldfish on my face. My friend used to my beautiful expression, walked into my room and made himself comfortable ( which included some crappy song, god forbid if I ever meet the singer I will strangle her) and then began our chattering, well,  more of a one sided conversation with me replying in monosyllables ( the art of talking when half asleep had escaped my grasp). It seemed like eternity before we reached  the grand climax,  okay, that is kind of heavy for a set of lines we seemed to exchange at the end of every such encounter, which went:
“Dude I’m hungry. Do you have food?”
I shook my head.
“Dude, shit!! Lets go to the restaurant, I’m dying of hunger here.”
This was followed by a cascade of phone calls, which eventually resulted in five or six, numb nuts like me starting a noisy procession through the campus to the restaurant ( I use the word ‘restaurant’ for the lack of words. The place was anything but that.).

Now the food took forever to actually materialize on our plates, so the act of consuming the rubber roties and half cooked curries was preceded and punctuated by random gossip, a really nice way to kill two hours. After the whole exercise of eating I eventually made it back to my room, fattened, content and ready for another sleepless night. One would like to assume that this nocturnal creature would utilize this time of relative calm in the surroundings to get some work done and study but I’d like to point out that this hypothesis is severally flawed, for one thing the hostel is anything but calm in the night, secondly at this point of  time exams haven’t really started biting at my tender backside. So the urge to study hasn’t yet bloomed in the interiors of my cranium. Thus until realization dawns upon me a day after the exams, let’s just sit back and watch what’s up in the life of my dear friend from Princeton, Dr.House.     

 

About Us

Let The Good Times Roll Magazine is an online youth magazine
-Read what young India has to say .
- Comment on articles.
- Anybody can Contribute.
- Simple, humorous, vibrant.
- Uncensored opinions
- Stories of the common men & women
In short, Good Times