Chapter 1 It had been a long time since I had written something, but it still felt like yesterday. I didn’t like that it felt so, as those moments had a sort of grief associated with them that you’d go through once and not complain, twice and you break. “Keep your shoulders straight and your hips tight!” I had to write despite the fact that if I do, my brain would run my thoughts in a certain pathway for all week long. If I am lucky enough, I might get a new thing to worry about and this will last only for a day or two. I just wondered if people were worried of new stuff every other day. I only needed time, and some paper to complete whatever it had to be called. Some called it a memoir, I called it ‘paraphrased version of your experience at school which you hated with your heart out.’ Everyone runs out of time, some early and some a bit later. As far as time is concerned in my matters, I get a lot of time to think and live the dream, uh, I mean, live in my dreams and get exclusively less time when the moment demands productivity. So one doesn’t need to guess what time it was for me. It definitely was time to run out of time. I meet him in the corner at 12.33 pm sharp, as we decided, and perform the elaborate handshake to make sure that none of us have been brainwashed or hypnotized by the government or both. “Let me have a look on that paper of yours.” He doesn’t say that to ask permission. He says to actually mean ‘I am going to read whatever you have written on this paper and there is nothing you can do to stop me.’ He then starts reading the paper aloud. “He was never partial to anyone and I guess that’s something they’re taught in the fields during training, or maybe his heart was really good. But what he didn’t know was that the bow that he made us to perform as a sign of respect to the people who fight for our country made me nauseous as well.” “Nausea? Hahaha dude, but I have never seen you puke in almost years.” I have a clear remembrance of events since I was 12. It’s been only five times since I’ve puked. That day could have been my sixth. That day I could have just rested on those brown benches, my head on left arm until it went numb. But my thresholds of releasing mushy, semi-digested mouth bombs are just so much. “They march for our safety, they endure sleepless nights. They go through so much, and you can’t perform this bow for them?” “Are you there or have you been mentally abducted by aliens?” He asks me as my neural pathways run the same train of thoughts over and over again. “Yes, I am here. About the puking, well, I just know how to control it. Moreover once you puke, you get weaker and that’s not what you’d want when you are ill. It hurts and irritates the throat as well.” “Thank you for this biology talk sir, even though I study sheets of paper filled with grids of notations.” “And when translated and played, turn into ear-soothing vibrations.” “Yes. Ok listen I have to be there by 1.15 .Let’s hit the canteen and move forward. “Keep your shoulders straight and your hips tight! Eyes on the flag and move forward!”