Mansi Rege

A room full of students, each one a fighter.

Armed with pens, stick- ons and a highlighter.

Each competing to know more than the other.

The noose of competition just growing tighter.

Each student makes guilt rise to my throat.

My exams look like a sinking boat.

I force myself to read a few lines.

Seldom understood, mostly by rote.

Words blur, sentences seen as a haze.

I feel so confused, as if lost in a maze.

Unwittingly drown in deep slumber.

Lose track of time, get up in a daze.

I force myself to read some more.

Smile to myself as I hear someone snore.

Watch a video or change the subject.

Until the other subject also begins to bore.

I get up for a snack and a cup of tea.

Grab a few moments of being carefree.

Sip it as slowly as I can.

Before dragging myself back to the Library.

I then lose focus, then begin to yawn.

Yet persist till I just can’t go on.

I finally give up and pack to go home.

Promise to come back next day at dawn.

So that’s how, in the Library, I spend my day.

When exams beg and plead me to stay.

As all other means of passing have failed.

And studying seems like the only way.


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