Stray Clouds, Stray Thoughts

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(Edited)

“I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud”

I can’t remember how many times I mocked this poem saying “I Landered Wonely as a Cloud” when someone ask me to recite a poem. But you know— I have always hated poems like I hate numerical matters e.g. Mathematics.

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As a literature student, I should have a fascination for literary terms and elements like prose & poems. Oh, how I wish I had that in me— even a bit. Only God knows why I can’t tame my mind to read poetry or focus on prose— not even after being insulted several times in viva-voce during my Bachelor’s courses. It’s not my thing— probably that’s the reason I cannot catch up with it. Instead, I am more interested in Post-colonial theory and such. Oh, I forgot, yes, God has awarded me with a tiny interest in African Literature and that too because I love postcolonial things, perhaps.

Okay, talking about the Poem thing, I didn’t know the poem I have mocked so often in my life would mock me sometimes. And it was so frustrating and insulting that I can feel it every day—it’s almost 3 years but it feels like those words thrown at me are as fresh as the morning dew or that tiny drop of water on a hyacinth leaf.

It was 2018 or 2019, can’t remember the exact time, I was a brilliant student— a fresh graduate with a zeal for securing a govt. a job like others. But little did I know that zeal was temporary with no solid reasoning and a robust work plan.

Not needed— I am brilliant; what will possibly stop me from attaining my dream ( this dream was formed out of family pressure, never wanted to be a govt. officer but always adored the POWER in it ).

So, let the fight begin— applied in some banks, BCS, etc. Luckily, I managed to pass the first 2 steps of a bank job and was called for the viva at Bangladesh Bank. Even though my preparation was not so satisfactory, it was my friends whose inspiration made me a balloon full of helium.

However, I love to dream. In fact, I live on dreams. I love to build my empire on my imagination— and why should I not— everything seems to have a balance there. Even if there is not, doesn't matter. As I am in control, I can take care of it with things reimagined and crafted accordingly.

But this time it didn’t work.

So, when it was my turn, I went to the designated room where three SIR-type people were ready to make me feel like a chicken. And trust me, I couldn’t think of myself but a chicken once I sat on the chair— it was huge compared to my tiny body. And then it began— after a few usual questions, they switched to my academic background.

As expected, most of my answers were close to the finish line but not up to the mark. Out of frustration, they asked me to recite a poem and I was like— should I recite “I Landered Wonely as a Cloud.”

The irony of fate!

I was asked to recite this particular poem. But I only know this single line— not even the title. I confessed I don’t know the entire poem.

They didn’t want me to fail, so, one of them recited the first line and asked me to continue.

So, what to do?

I started to recite it with great enthusiasm and just after the first line, I said I don’t know the other lines, sir.

I can feel those cold eyes staring at me even today— I have already told you the first line, you don’t know the rest?!

A pin-drop silence for a few seconds and the most helpful one came to my rescue, he recited the second line and asked me to continue.

As usual, my blank stares made them understand how a pathetic literature student I am. In fact, it’s not a new thing for me. One of my professors asked me 7 questions from basic literature in one of my viva-voce exams and I failed to answer all of them but one. And he replied with “Absolutely Wrong” when I finally managed to answer the last one.

I still regret not learning that poem that day and even today. Perhaps I should— for the sake of my degree. And of course, there's nothing to be proud of your ignorance.

But I don’t understand why people don’t ask me about colonialism and other stuff like that— come on, it’s my favourite— I love to discuss how fool we are to be proud of being a student from Oppressor's language; how strong African literature is and how interesting psychoanalysis is compared to many posh subjects. And oh boy, Anthropology— I wouldn’t mind learning it even if this does not have a “bright” future in our country.



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