This poem is written by Clarissa D’Lima (BA. LLB. Class of 2021)
You are what you breathe, I remember the campaigners say,
But my nose cold and hostile, forced by brain to disagree,
I doubt what I breathe, in the classes with windows ever shut
Fixed with a freezing machine that blows you into fray.
In its silent working, chilling shudders it drives into my bones,
Increasing the lecture hour’s drudgery.
My coat and sweater may not always suffice
At times they too fail to contain my mumbles and groans.
As a few more troubled voices pitch in, the call for the remote is made.
And till the aid arrives, I try to be pacified by imagining myself furry.
Crossed fingers, hoping that no ignoramus fiddles with the fan switch,
And give me a feel of having the Antarctic currents to wade.
My comfort while I encounter this unruly placed appliance,
Is then to imagine the sun, gloriously beaming over the flower and tree.
It’s warm embrace I crave to feel.
How happy with it shall be my alliance!
Each day holds hope that a more even air the gift of invention in future blow.
With the right adjustment of speed and degree.
So that the chills don’t induce me to weep nor seduce my sleep.
And let me unhindered listen to wise words and grow.