My story is unlike others, in the manner that it doesnt have any climax, a twist or the more so

common college love story. Its not about an adventure or a thriller, its not even human drama,
and in fact its void of any element that would make this piece faintly resemble a story. Just like
my life. So whatever am I writing is there any purpose to it, just as anyone would ask, what the
hell is the purpose of your life?
My question is, is it necessary for my life to have a purpose? Without purpose would my life
be a hollow existence, a wandering lost soul being pushed aside by the rush hour traffic of the
spiritual world, all of them rushing to find solace and calm, all of them frantically in search for
their piece of empty space in the universal fabric so as to park their Jig Saw puzzle of a spirit
and in the event of so, all of THEM colliding with me and throwing me in a deep chasm of god
knows what spiritual relapse.

I was sitting at the Galla, Tea cup in 1 hand, an irritating begging dog and 2 cynical friends on
the other. The sky was yet to be pierced by any glimmer of the sun. A cold chill was running
amok the Galla, indicating high time we started wearing some clothes more suited to winter, or
simply wear anything except shorts and a half sleeve. We were seated opposite to the Galla
with a cross road in between us. Bhushan was sitting on a piece of slab that divided the wild
foliage from the road while Mrunal and me were on plastic stools courtesy of the Galla.
Bhushan and Mrunal were in some heated debate whereas I had my eyes averted to the empty
skies.
What is it with stars, someplace they show up and someplace they dont, am I supposed to
feel privileged just to be able to see them? I thought to myself, sipping on some throat
warming Chai. The dog was muzzling his cold nose against my slippers. I knew it just wanted to
be scratched behind his ear. Instead I patted on his head and pushed him away.

Bhushan and Mrunal were still going hot on the topic, it wasnt exactly a debate, more like a
competition to see who could best bitch about the college. Not that I was above the topic, but I
had simply gotten bored of it all.

So its like, if my project guide doesnt have a Ph. D, what the fuck would I do with a LOR from
a person like that. Bhushan went on. If the college doesnt have the resources , dont see any
reason why they should be restricting us by these confounded rules.

Look, whatever it is that the college has or does not, there is nothing we can do about it.
Frankly I dont care. I said. You know what; all that you guys have ever expected from this
college was a job and a degree in hand. You are gonna be getting all that so I dont think you
should complain.
Both of them looked at me skeptically.
Like you dont worry shit about a job. Bhushan murmured.
Here we go, Moaned Mrunal, I thought we had put some sense in this guy not to rant off
philosophical shit.
Look, frankly, I dont care about the job or pointers. I explained. I mean, whatever Job I am
gonna get, I get. Whats the big deal about it? All I know is, I came to college to get a feel of life,
though I am not happy about whatever it is that I am getting here, but I just came here to
develop my mind set. Thats it. Am not doing a good job at it if I go by the way this college sees
me, in terms of pointers I mean. Its the philosophy of thinking I am after, and whatever that
this college is giving me, I take it.
I looked around for my friends input but strangely enough heard none; they had finished their
cuppa tea, and were 5 minutes worth of walk away from me. Pay up the Bill. Shouted
Bhushan.
I handed the Ramu Kaka a 15 Rs note and kick started my bike. I didnt feel like returning back
to hostel so headed in the opposite direction to tuta Pulha (broken Bridge).
Riding the bike always calmed me down and put me at ease in life. It was a place where I could
reflect on myself. This time, I went through the dialogue I had with my father about what to do
in Life. Not a good memory to reflect upon. Everyone told, get your life planned and sorted out.
But whats wrong with it being chaotic.I used to interject. That used to piss them even more.
Whats the sense in living then!
It was 5:30 am and I could feel that daylight was soon going to mingle with the darkness.
Straight up ahead of me was the Broken Bridge with the canal beneath it. It didnt have any
protective fencing on its side and thats why I used to call it a broken Bridge. You could just sit
on the edge and let your legs flap in the air above the water at that height. There was a good
feeling to it. Every time I crossed it, I used to dream that one day I fell in the canal. Riding the
Bike always did used to put me in a ethereal state. And then suddenly I felt a bump and when I
came to my senses, I could see the dark water reflection beneath me and the wind gushing past
my ears. There was something eerie about the water. Maybe it was just the pollution in it.

Fucking great, I am going to drown in the canal with my bike and my mind thinks about
pollution.
People say that when you die, your whole life flashes by you. Unfortunately since my train of
thought during my fall of 20 ft from the bridge tangled around the pollution of the canal water,
I had to give my life flashing by moment a rain check.
Amazing, I am still falling, come on life memories flash by me, I begged to myself. I had a
few micro seconds to impact.
And what the fuck do I still think about. If I die in this way, my obituary will read that his last
dying moments were on how polluted the canal water was and that something must be done
about it. He cared about his country and its precious resources till the end. That thought put a
smile on my face. I always used to take pride in the fact that I never used to throw garbage on
the public roads; whenever possible it went in the dustbin. As I looked up, I could see the red
shafts of sun breaking through the darkness
SPLASH
The next moments were all blurry, the first thing I felt was a hot Iron being rubbed all over my
body and then the cold sensation of the water kicked in. I was waving my hand like a mad man
underneath the water but it felt as if someone was pulling me down. Maybe the old man of the
canal. The lack of oxygen was making my brain dizzy. But I could faintly see the outline of the
old man. He had surprisingly slender body.
Wait a minute, there is no old man of canal, its called the old man of sea. After that I had no
consciousness.
----------------------------x---------------------------x------------------------------x-----------------------------------

Angels are really very beautiful. What people said about angels was true. I said coughing
water.
You are still alive the girl blurted out in surprise.
That really hurt me; it was as if she wanted me to be dead. She was dressed in her night suite
which I could see was wet. And then it hit me all of a sudden.
What Happened? I shouted rising my head above the ground. My upper body was bent up so
that I could absorb my surroundings. I was lying besides the canal. And the girl besides me was
on her elbow.

Nice day for a suicide attempt na? she said. The frown on her face could be felt in her voice.
Look, whatever your problem is, its not mine any more. Please dont involve me in this any
further ok.
I had just lost my dear bike and had almost died, and this girl has the nerve to say she has
enough problems on her head.
Saying this, the girl stood up and walked away from me. I could see her walking towards a
imposing mansion.
At least tell your name? I shouted to her.
Mansi!!!
With that word, she was out of my sight.
All this was too much and I crashed to the ground on my back. I thought to myself, So what if
my life doesnt have a purpose. What if I have no hope in my life? I can always live in
anticipation of the hope that is yet to come. Somewhere up above, I think there is a spirit that
doesnt seek nirvana, that doesnt go along with the flow. It just stands there with time,
waiting

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

If you read the story till here.much appreciated :P