XXVI-MONICA AGAIN

                                                                   XXVI

My instinct was sharp. I shouldn't have accepted the conditions, but it was time to face the music. After all, I would spend all day studying. In class, they could stare at me for as long as they wanted, wear me down with their eyes, and subject me to the social judgment of those who had nothing better to spend their time on.

Monica. A name to forget, no matter how over it was. Diya, Diya, what was the use of repeat- ing all those names in my head? We are what we are, regardless of the circumstances.

And always in spite of the circumstances, which in reality do make up what we are. What a mess!

On paper, in the exams, all those philosophical and literary theories could be of some us