2:51 AM and its me who’s suddenly worried

I am worried about myself.

I am here in the best college in India which can give anyone a masters degree in civil infrastructral engineering. It was indeed an effort to get in here.

It will take more than two and a half years before I am awarded with the degree. That will be a dual Bachelor’s and Masters degree.

I never feel like an engineer. Will this world respect me as an engineer when I step out of this great institute of technology?

A few moments ago, I googled for a civil infrastructure company and that led me to the webpage of “never heard before” Colorado based civil infrastructure company. There was a link that led to internship program at that place. As I read it, i found out they take about 20 guys each year as interns and involve them in their projects. Can I ever be one of them? Will they ever call ME?
There are obviously more crucial questions to be answered. Why do I want them to take me in? Well the answer is pretty simple. I wanna get hands-on experience in this engineering field because this is the area in which I am going to be called a Pro. But have I ever cared about being a Pro. Have I ever looked at things that way. No.

So you understand now why I am worried. I am worried about myself. I am worried about my attitude towards life. I dont say I dont like my attitude. I love it. But that gives me pains sometimes. Specially when I realize I have been missing on something because of the way I have set myself mentally. And just because I love this attitude so much, its so difficult to change it. Am I confusing you? Oh.. I think I should have better told you about my attitude in the first place.

I will call it “carefree”. It gives a sense of freedom when I get up with this attitude. It gives me pleasure. It lets me feel life whatever way I want to. And so i love this attitude.

But then it sure has a problem. I dont care about the future. The future’s not going to care about me. So this is how this carefree attitude gives me pain. Whenever my mind does the future-probing, the same attitude that makes blood run inside me at other time, hits me with a solid bang.

Bang Bang. I dont need to conclude all the times. Do I?? Dint I tell you I am carefree?

my freaky stories

love at salon

He said nothing when he entered the room. I was passing the best of my razors back and forth on the strop. He took a seat quietly. Only traces of beard were present on his face. He was looking into my eyes; his eyes calling me. It was the fourteenth time in a single week that he had come for shaving in this salon.

I stopped my work. The time for duty had come. He was staring at me as I approached him. A slight smile appeared on his face. His face was good to look at. His body was better. But then people like him kept coming to this saloon. This was the only salon in town were all the staff were females. I was sure the same reason brought him here, more number of times than needed, that brought everyone else. That was the reason why this salon had only women working in there in the first place. We were twelve women there. And I wondered sometimes, how he always managed that I be the only one available whenever he came.

I applied the shaving cream. I didn’t need to ask him anything. We had developed some kind of mutual understanding. I knew he was still staring at me. I never liked men staring at me. But he had been different from others; different since the first day. Today however seemed a day, more different from others. He looked so nervous today, and yet he had a never-before-observed feel about him. His eyes wanted to convey something to me. And the thought of that sent a shudder through my body.

His face appeared cleaner as I approached the end of my job. I looked into his eyes, and before I could know, I was smiling. A chemistry was developing; or had it already developed? But I knew all this was going to vanish soon. As soon as he would know who I was. I was sure I would refuse him before he could do so. But I was sure of something else. I was already in love with him. And yet I could never tell that to him. I could never speak a word.

My job was done. He sat there clean shaved. He sat there silently. And then suddenly there was a movement. He had taken out a piece of paper from somewhere. He wanted me to read it. I knew this was the time to decide. And I did decide. I took the paper from him. If that was going to be a proposal, I knew I had to answer in negative. I was not sure if I should read that.

The next moment I was reading it. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I read that. And as I finished I could see tears in his eyes too. He had proposed to me and I had accepted. I had accepted to be his wife. And there had been no need of even a single word.

On our wedding, my father overheard someone saying ‘isn’t she the girl who worked at that salon in front of the town hall? I heard she is dumb; can’t utter a single word. Who agreed to marry her?’. ‘That man has an extra feature, he is deaf as well’, came back the reply.