Wednesday, August 10, 2011

M Phil Applied Linguistics

I've the prospectus in my hands and the title says "2011 GCUF Prospectus". I am having this booklet in my hands and my soul is wandering around those moments which I've spent in this university millennia ago. Yes it seems I was there in another life. The days of MSc Applied Linguistics, the last and forever prevailing moments, I cannot forget them. At that time, 1 year back from now, I'd tried to write something. I'd tried to mourn on the loss, but I failed. I could not gather words, as if though my words had become meaningless. I was unable to say what I wanted to say. So considering myself a desert struck by drought with no single drop of water, I'd abandoned the effort to produce something. And now after 1 year, when I am supposed to be more wise, more practical, more mature and more professional, I am becoming saddened on the loss of my good old days. Sadness prevails in me, it adds to my feelings drop by drop and I feel myself a container filled with it. And when I move in my good old days, when I re-picture those moments, the parties, the joyness, the classes and even the hardest times of final examination I can feel this sadness within the deepest corners of my bones. I wonder why this is now, when I am supposed to be more stronger and ignorant of such things, why I feel it now. When nothing is left behind. The air itself has become a stranger to me, the place where I had sit for 2 years, my classroom, has made other friends, other ones like me who succeeded me on that same corner chair of last row. I wonder why I feel this now, when I am going to sit there again, perhaps on that same chair and bench and same classroom. Perhaps this is because now I wouldn't be able to laugh out loud, the parties wouldn't be that enjoyable, maturity would hinder with joy and innocence, torments of time and tension will dance in my head, the god of money will bend my attentions. Perhaps I wouldn't be that old shakir this time, I would be more selfish, more swollen in my ego and I. Perhaps I would be more like a prisoner behind the walls of my own self.

No comments:

Post a Comment