The velvet folder

"WHAT!!??!! why am I supposed to rehearse for it?" , the expression on my face was unpleasant. When I said rehearse I did not mean that I was going to rehearse for a play or a skit or any similar chore of that kind. The whole rehearsal concept was just to bring back civilization amongst the people during the University convocation. Though it was tough for me to understand the significance I attended the rehearsal on time not in the fear of repeating the mistake Chetan Bhagat might have committed but just to book my perimeter within the numerous row of plastic chairs. Wrote my name on a piece of paper and stick it to the chair, as instructed, everybody else did!! Some people managed to be there and receive their degree's some could not.

I stood there confused for a while, holding the velvet folder that encapsulated my degree and rank certificate. Suddenly I started to have a visual summary, framing every second, a flash and every thing ended abruptly on the velvet folder. The question was obvious - "is this what i have been working & slogging for, for four whole years?". Whatever might be the reason it somehow felt right and sweet. Not the slogging, working or getting the degree, but all the things i have done, i have learnt, i have experienced, all the ups and downs, all the sleepless nights, every cup of coffee at the college canteen, every fight, every hour before the examination and after it, every cigarette smoked, every song with the de-tuned guitar, every minute of struggle to convince the professor to cover up for the attendance, every bunked class, in short everything. The velvet folder appeared too small all of a sudden, just too small to encapsulate everything....