A Sunday...

It started with a second year knocking my door at an 'unearthly' hour of 5.30 to wake me up for tennis practice. Although I haven't played tennis for over 2 years now, it truly remains my favourite sport. I had slept at 3 am yesterday night, but a promise is a promise. So, I trudged along with a battalion of second years to play tennis. Half an hour into the warmup+practice, there were no regrets of loosing sleep. Tennis seems to be the most enjoyable way of getting into a diet & exercise routine (details on why i am trying to start such a routine, i hope to reveal in another post).

So. Tennis over. Now what? The sun had come up and it was getting quite sultry. I didn't want to sleep immediately after playing, so started watching a few episodes of F.R.I.E.N.D.S and read the paper etc. Around 11 am, I woke up my room neighbour (Nick: Bagru)and we set off to the venue of the weekly Mock-CAT. No,No! Not to give the exam. Merely to get my account transfered to him. You see, Ladies & Gentlemen, I have FINALLY decided that I shall not be appearing for the mandatory exam for those who covet a seats in the IIMs. And parallely, Bagru decided he has more chances to get through CAT than to apply abroad for higher studies. Therefore, we decided that the most economically sensible thing to do would be to switch accounts at the coaching centre. He gets his coaching course at a discount (I did well in the 'discount exams') and I get some moolah which is otherwise stuck in some course.

Even after completing these formalities at the coaching centre and procuring the remaining sets of materials, the weather was very sultry. In fact, it was quite unbearable. I then proceeded for a long over-due haircut. It was when i got out the saloon, that I heard thunders from afar. It had started to drizzle and the drops were falling vertically (literally). For the next hour or so, it felt like there was an impenetrable curtain of rain around us. It was smothering any ember of energy left in me. I hurried up my bath and shut myself in the room for my ritual prayer. Although I hadn't explicitly asked the Lord to make my day better, i guessed he sensed it.

Wisps of cool air started entering my room from under my door. I could actually feel the cool wind first touching my feet and then, as it got more windy, the cool air reached my waist. The room above my waist was still warm and stifling. It was odd. Half of my body was still sweating and confused that the rest didn't feel the same way. And the bottom half propelled me to my door: 'Open sesame'. It hit me. I could actually feel the front of the cold wind sweep through my body. I immediately opened all the windows of the room. A supendous musical piece: Yanni - A face in the photograph; was playing on my computer.

It was heavenly.

It was perfect.

The complete rejuvenation. Just a few minutes back, I was subconsciously praying for this day to end in its existting form. And it happened. I don't intend to take a spiritualistic or rhetorical view on this, but prayers do get answered. Some may say "Hallelujah" and some may cry out "Coincidence". But I don't care. Scientifically, I believe that every event has its own set of probabilistic outcomes. Spritually, I believe that prayer gives us an ability to rejoice when the outcome is desired one and to be stoic when it is not.

I guess that sometimes even the erratic weather of a village can teach you how to find a balance between science and spirit in atleast one facet of life.

P.S. I have been writing this blog with all the windows and door of my room wide open (like in all other rooms of kharagpur, i guess), continously listening to the theme of Bombay composed by Rahman.