The Late Lament

I have 7 weeks left in college.

I realise that this is highly unoriginal, but where did my five years go? It was only last week that we placed our brains inside buckets of formalin, how can I be on the brink of doctor-hood? I don't know where the origin of the pectoralis major is, and that was the very first thing I learnt. What am I doing here?

I didn't know anyone when I joined, and now they are the people I'll be the happiest to run into in the future.
Reminds me of that terrible joke that was doing the rounds in my third year.
Joe: Meet my wife.
Sam: I know her.
Joe: How?
Sam: I've slept with her.
Joe: WHAT?
Sam: Ten years ago. In pathology class.

I could cry oceans.

Why?

Because I could have been spent more time with my books?
Because the library could have been more than a quiet dormitory?
Because I could have poked at more patients?
Because I could have stayed awake in class?

Jeez, who cares about all that? There are plenty of people who do that, and they wear the same harassed expression that I do.

Could I have had more fun?

I remember all of us taking down notes diligently in classes when even the hardiest souls were in NREM sleep. Notes of the lecturer's atrocious grammar and pronunciation.

Once The R and I decided to explore the corners of the campus ordinarily hidden to good, law-abiding medicos and came up on a swing. It so happened that we were both just five years old that day.

The A was watching the river Cauvery (en route to Coorg, on a batch trip) flow by gently, and decided to wade in it. Later that evening, The R and I had a time trying to prevent The A from coming down with pneumonia.

All of us setting out for a lecture five minutes before it began, to reach the class late and breathless, only to find out it had been cancelled.

I remember Eli screaming when her pithed frog showed signs of being un-pithed.

All of us arriving well in time for a class: the lecturer was young and handsome. :)

Singing loud, off-key versions of Chhalak Dhikla Jaa along with the blasting TV enough to disturb the rest of the floor at the hotel in Mysore, and then have the management ring up the guys in the next room to turn down the volume, who had just switched on the telly to 'drown out the unholy din'. Take that, chauvinistic hotel manager.

Grinning across a crowded ward at each other in the middle of yet another night.

Survived the labour room together, with our sanities intact. Or as intact as they were prior to the internment.

Collectively developing vasovagal attacks in the middle of watching autopsies.

Catching the late show of Guru while at Hyderabad, and squeezing each other's hands when Madhavan (ooo, HOTNESS!) kissed Vidya Balan (the BITCH!).

Having nothing to talk about, and sitting around silently like characters from an art movie, and bristling with stories the moment exams are announced, with the peak occurring just outside the exam hall. Always.

Man, I LOVE college! Damn you, for being only five years long.