At the officeroom...

The office was such a lame place. I neared its entrance. There was the receptionist, barely visible, flanked by schools of ever-patient students, each clinching a paper that smelt of kerosene. I recognized the aroma of man’s most useful aromatic hydrocarbon.
I couldn’t help noticing large banners that announced of the top ranks someone had achieved, of hard work and sheer dedication in mugging up a couple of mercilessly un-rememberable formulae ,sitting round the clock in a prison. I pitied them. Then I pitied myself. However, there was no time for such trivial things as pity. I moved on. I held on to the aluminium lining that adorned the place. I waited.

Amidst the chaos, I stood. I stood like an innocent Jew in one of Hitler’s concentration camps. I waited for the poisonous gases to be released. Alas! My college couldn’t afford any poisonous gas. I realized that it could afford someone else. I was sent into another aluminium enclosure. I saw two grim looking specimens sitting like a simulacrum of a guard who guarded the Buckingham palace. Not an ounce of happiness was to be seen in their faces. Each of them minded their own business, lost in their own solitary work.

They were moving about the place on the cushioned blue chairs, never caring to look at what the other was doing. One of them was scrutinizing a large sheet of paper with such an enthusiasm, that it looked like he was sure of snatching the Nobel Prize for it. I peeped in. There were a couple of people, waiting for their trial. I went inside. He broke his penance. He looked up. He strangely enquired as to why we were there (I didn’t know why I was there) .And some people answered. That was the last thing I cared to listen.
Then began a series of seemingly perpetual lectures, pity, there wasn’t a scribe to jot ’em down, he could live in as much comfort as an oil-rich Arab for a forty days. He was philosophizing us; I looked at how beautiful the office was.

A series of popular cell-phone ring tones added to the melancholy strain, a mélange of them, cacophonically ringing until their owners caressed it with utmost precision. Then they spoke. They spoke on till the other person could afford, It was ridiculous and I changed the sight.
My class –in-charge was summoned. He shot a meek look at some person there and obeyed him like a four and a half year old child. I looked on. He was ordered to call up our homes and reveal our marks (I don’t what marks, they happened to be) , and advice our parents to shout at us when we had reached home.
I stood there like a silly goose…and thus, composed this freaking embellishment for my blog. So, the next time you are summoned up to meet some workless person, try not listening to them…ha!