On Trains and Picnic Parties

 

Since forever, I’ve had a few whimsical wishes. One of the most luxurious one that I allow myself to enjoy is the thrill of solving a mystery on a train. Nothing too gory or disgusting like the ones on CID. But something sinister and sophisticated. Something like the murder on the orient express. I love that book. In fact, I love all books that include mysteries on the train. I have no idea why. Do the psychology textbooks offer an explanation? If they do, I oddly don’t want to read that. Recently I read, “everyone on this train is a suspect” by Benjamin Stevenson and I gave it 5 stars. I could’ve given it more but 5 is the maximum number of stars you can give to a book which is not ideal.

Ironically, I have never ever travelled on a train. I would love to, of course. But what I would love more is writing a mystery set up on a train. The eerie ambiance of the carriage, the velvety interior. The night train, crawling through sleeping towns, silently.  The steam engine with its high and mighty whistle. Even the dull gray minimalistic ones that appear everywhere on media these days. The perfect atmosphere to hide one’s heinous act in plain sight. The silent suspects each hiding his own sinister secrets. The devious ride, the thrill of chase, a case that haunts its readers.

So far, I don’t suppose I could ever write up something so good. I am not ready for it yet. I will have to hold on to that dream for now.

There are a lot of things I’m holding for now. life has a strange way of untangling the mess around you. The cords and strings are still there, even untangled they look like a disaster. You have to see past the illusion of negativity cast on your sight by your own self. That is something I have not yet learned how to do. The crime scene is set. The victim’s been shot. The glasses are shattered, the curtains shredded, the blood is everywhere. The conductor has no alibi. He’s the one who has committed this felony. But I’m so spooked out by the messy crime scene, that I miss it. I would have been a terrible detective.

A better detective would’ve focused on the wound, on the evidence, on the weapon. And in this crime scene of life, a better human would’ve been grateful for the cords. Otherwise, life would’ve been too bare. A better person wouldn’t have complained this much. A better person would have actually written how good their life is, how amazing their institution is, how awesome their friends are. So, I guess I’m not a really a better person.

Shakespeare was right when he said that when sorrows come, they come not in single spies but in battalions. When he didn’t know was that sorrows also come in semesters. Though I may be over exaggerating a bit but this semester has been a symphony of discord. I am grateful that it’s over.

  The start of the semester was pretty nice, I guess. I was so happy that I had only six subjects to take this semester. That seemed too good to be true. And it was too good to be true. Who knew six classes could unfold so much distress in one’s life?

Parasitology was brutal. It was agonizing but I must admit that I also kind of liked it. but maybe I liked the portion of my notebook which was sorted by colors into different classification of helminths. I will forever be proud of those notes. I have always liked structure. The beauty of everything being sorted is something that I can only experience in my notes. Because life doesn’t actually go according to my plan. Ever. I fared well in all subjects, I think. And I actually enjoyed studying them on my own. it was the classes which I disliked intensely.

Another canon event that happened this semester was the ultimate picnic party. I cannot stress this enough how much everyone I knew wanted that picnic to happen. The main goal? To gradually increase interaction among the class. I have no idea how did we all collectively fail to socialize so badly that a picnic had to be arrange so that people would mingle. I am very much happy to announce that it all backfired horribly. (sarcasm, if you couldn’t tell)

 Somehow now there’s a blood feud in my class. I haven’t decided yet if the Montagues are correct or if the Capulets are true. I don’t think that I’ll be deciding that any time soon.

In books and media, picnic is shown to be the epitome of the essence of spring. In the back of my mind, I can see something from little women, William Wordsworth’s daffodils in the distance, people laughing, tea and cake, internal jokes and shared thoughts.

In reality it was a horrible game of UNO. Half the time was spent on learning the rules. It was also a crude game of guessing which feels wrong in hindsight. We should’ve gone fishing or bird watching. Something where people don’t pretend to make small conversations in order to establish the basis of a rudimentary friendship.

I’m still thankful that we didn’t steer anywhere near truth or dare because I have a feeling that would’ve ended in bloodshed.

Even though it all had pretty disastrous consequences, I do not regret that picnic at all. Personally I think that a picnic should be a private affair between friends that is spontaneously planned and executed according to no scheme but result in amusement nevertheless. I liked that picnic. it had not been according to my definition of picnic but it was a nice change of events in our dull routine.

One of the good things that happened to me this semester was Severance. That show is the single most perfect thing that has ever aired on a streaming service. But I say that about every other tv show. Still that show was mind blowing.

Everyone has a different opinion on that show. I feel as if Lumon was experimenting to see if they could eliminate the element of suffering from one's life by severing them into several consciousness. But you cannot eliminate suffering, you can only designate it. I have a 1500 words blog written on that show but I'm not sure if it will ever see the light of the day. Maybe it will.

Another thing was Parks and Rec. if I liked The Office, I adored Parks and Rec. and also, I disturbingly relate too much to Ben Wyatt. That show was the most positive and happy show that I have ever watched. No sitcom has ever been this much positive. Probably that’s why I never recommended it to anyone. People often don’t watch my recommendations. But out of all sitcoms, I have ever watched, I would like to rewatch it the most.

I can only think of one other major event this semester and that’s the annual farewell party. I especially enjoyed the chaos that followed after. Two exams in a single day. People lost their minds. I shouldn't say that it was one of the most exciting things that happened in the semester, but it was in fact very exciting. Parasitology was already disastrous. The two exams were just cherry on top. Still i enjoyed the whole thing. The night before and the day after, two best things of the entire semester. 

The cruel thing is the idea of friends is very different than actual friends. John Green was right. What a treacherous thing to believe that a person is more than a person? The concept of a person in my head differs so vastly with the actual person, the stark contrast actually makes me wonder how did I get it so wrong?

Though if all the people turn out to be exactly the same as we perceive them, life could become increasingly joyous as well as disturbing.

I used to think that Sally Rooney has gotten it wrong. That doesn’t happen in real lives. People have taxes to pay and dinners to eat. But I am a witness to my life turning exactly into a Sally Rooney novel. I fear the ending. But I also await it. its all gonna come together into a very satisfying culmination of all the events that would have happened by then. It will pass. And I will wait.