I retreated from the day consulting my conscience, senses of approval and propriety of mannerisms.No i actually didnt respond to the clarion call.All what i did was that i became the a part of the regularities for few moments and the rest remain freezed,solidified,intangible veil,unparalleled but personally visioned and uniquely conversed.A little refuge,a little walled room laced with my wanderings,a lost mind,a soul embrasive of guilty deeds of seeking mendacious paths for demanding the phase of finely defined isolation,little space much distant from stimulating bitching sessions and sarcasm without any formidable meaning to it. Somethimes things can be so meaningless and random.Those moments when i plunged in Tagore's poems,those moments when i circled around the stacks of books,those moments when never did i have to overassess the ambiguities and feel like dropped-in- pit like cynic,those moments when conversation didnt have the mandatory requirement of two minds,two souls,two facing nicely chiselled biological structures and converged into one and feeling of self-sufficiency and self-emphasis (briefly drunkard narcisst)resurfaced were optimally savoured,or should i say,devoured by me.The time laid down with broken arms,it laid down its mission for ceaseless acquisition and conquest occasioned by the fracture and amputation.And guess what i danced in thrill at such severence and obliteration.