This is the one question which has been raised by everyone in this college since time immemorial.
Why does L&D(Literary and Debating Club) waste so much time and effort on a noticeboard? Why do we insist on a completely hand-made noticeboard(i.e nothing printed)? Isn't it an antiquated affair? In an age where perhaps, if it's about spreading literature or art, can't it be done through the electronic media like online blogs and social networks?
It's simple. If it's a pain, it's worth remembering. That's true about a lot of things in college life. You have to work your ass off for something and only then would the end-product be something you did take pride in.
It's simple. If it's a pain, it's worth remembering. That's true about a lot of things in college life. You have to work your ass off for something and only then would the end-product be something you did take pride in.
And, until people come sit together and slave it out on something that tests their patience day and night, they won't understand what it means to be a part of a team.
Besides, some things should be preserved. Fifty years have passed since this college came into existence. We have inherited a pretty good heritage and it's important that we hold on to atleast some of those age-old traditions because if we don't, GenNext wouldn't simply understand what it means to be from CREC/NIT-C. And that is perhaps true, not only of this noticeboard and L&D but all the countless things that we have washed our hands off. The acute lack of interest in the college magazine. The change in perspective of most clubs from quality to populism. The downward spiral in our cultural activities.
Interestingly, I wrote this post because I came across an article that I wrote for the L&D noticeboard in my second year.
Here goes.
He was standing before an archaic, white building. It seemed abandoned amidst all the newer developments surrounding it. His eyes were staring at that small, dusty architecture. And, curiously for somebody looking like an entrepreneur, an epitome of seriousness, he had a small paper plane in his hand.
He was taking a short trip back to his hometown from his workplace. His work life annoyed him sometimes. The only thing he looked forward to was the first of each month, when that fat cheque reached him. The late night parties and the fun that he would have till the money lasted, was what kept him alive. But, he wasn’t satisfied .As the landmarks of his hometown blurred behind him one by one, something caught his attention and he stopped the car.
His memories took him back to that one evening. He recalled that he was to leave the neighbourhood that night. His friends had gathered for their last kids-only bash by that small, white haunt, their unofficial headquarters. Suddenly the space around him had been filled with paper planes whizzing through the air. He had always loved that part.
He remembered taking aim with a paper plane.
And he launched it. As his eyes traced the path of his paper plane, a light sensation overwhelmed him. His lips curled into a smile. And, he slowly walked back to his car, whistling an old tune that suddenly sprang up from his memories.
Paper planes.
Not all of us will be able to catch hold of our passions and achieve Nirvana.
And, so definitely, we must hold on to the paper planes.
Interestingly, I wrote this post because I came across an article that I wrote for the L&D noticeboard in my second year.
Here goes.
He was standing before an archaic, white building. It seemed abandoned amidst all the newer developments surrounding it. His eyes were staring at that small, dusty architecture. And, curiously for somebody looking like an entrepreneur, an epitome of seriousness, he had a small paper plane in his hand.
He was taking a short trip back to his hometown from his workplace. His work life annoyed him sometimes. The only thing he looked forward to was the first of each month, when that fat cheque reached him. The late night parties and the fun that he would have till the money lasted, was what kept him alive. But, he wasn’t satisfied .As the landmarks of his hometown blurred behind him one by one, something caught his attention and he stopped the car.
His memories took him back to that one evening. He recalled that he was to leave the neighbourhood that night. His friends had gathered for their last kids-only bash by that small, white haunt, their unofficial headquarters. Suddenly the space around him had been filled with paper planes whizzing through the air. He had always loved that part.
He remembered taking aim with a paper plane.
And he launched it. As his eyes traced the path of his paper plane, a light sensation overwhelmed him. His lips curled into a smile. And, he slowly walked back to his car, whistling an old tune that suddenly sprang up from his memories.
Paper planes.
Not all of us will be able to catch hold of our passions and achieve Nirvana.
And, so definitely, we must hold on to the paper planes.
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