I was wondering.
I had my books in front of me.
They were open.
But I was wondering.
My pink-ink pen had run its due course.
I had unknowingly started depending on it.
An underline there, a note scribbled here, a star somewhere in the corner, a box somewhere else.
All in pink.
A chapter with a lot of pink was a chapter well done for me.
It was my mark of satisfaction.
It was my catalyst.
And I am not even fond of the colour pink!
I had an inverted-U staring back at my face.
The page looked drab.
The chapter: more so!
I needed my magic-touch.
In the absence of the pink-pen, I rummaged through my drawer, looking for some inferior stimulant to my academic pursuits.
I found one.
Not a close substitute but the only one available.
I sulked some more.
I took a deep breath, preparing myself to be engulfed in a nimbus of monotony.
I turned to the first page of the chapter.
I started colouring the box which had the chapter number.
The box turned green.
All of a sudden it struck me.
I found reason in randomness.
It might have been trivial.
It might have been a random coincidence.
Then again, it could well have been a reasonable incident.
I took my ruler and underlined the name of the chapter: "The Environment and Development".
I miss my pink pen.
But then, things come to an end for a reason.
Apparently pens do too.
Although it was just a case of the right colour coding, I had one of my "quirky” realizations out of this seemingly trivial incident (or coincidence).
Ends add more rhyme and reasons to the beginning.