{ cold, cold water. }

[delga]

Today's 19th Century Poetry lecture was the worst lecture I've been to since those atrocious Lit&Hist. lectures in my first year. No, really, it was awful. The lecturer talks so fast over the important parts, repeats the parts that you don't need and is one of the most disorganised members of staff in the English faculty. This morning was a nightmare. Towards the end, I just gave up.

In the next fortnight (well, week, actually, because I'm once again considering going to London for Diwali) I have to write a 3K critical commentary for this course. I also have to do well on it. I think my brain just switched off.

--

So, there's this story, and it goes like this. There was once a palace courtier whose name was Birbal, and often he took time to walk with his King. It was a cold day, and the King proposed a challenge: any man that could stand outside in the freezing water of a lake for a whole night would be rewarded with great riches.

Birbal found a poor man, a homeless man, and brought him to stand in the water. The King, not believing Birbal, sent guards to see if the man did spend the entire night in the water. After the night passed, the guards returned: yes, the man had endured a night in the freezing cold water of the lake.

The King questioned the man. How did you endure such a thing? And the man replied that he had spent the night looking at a lamp light that shone at a distance across the water. The King's other courtiers said that the man should not be awarded the reward as he was not truly cold - he must have taken heat from the far-off lamp. The man was sent away, disappointed.

Birbal, too, was disappointed, and wished to help this man who had endured such a feat.

Thus, Birbal invited the King and the other courtiers to eat with him, and when they arrived, Birbal informed them that they would be eating rice, before leaving to prepare the food. Time passed, then more time, and then more time yet, and the King and the courtiers grew impatient. Finally, the King called for Birbal, demanding to know what was causing the delay. Birbal invited the King and his courtiers to come and see for themselves.

In the garden, a fire was lit beneath a tree, and hanging from the branches of a tree was a pot in which was soaked the rice and the water. But, the King cried, Birbal, how will the food cook if it is so far from the flame?

Birbal replied, if a man can take heat from a lamp so far placed from him, why can I not cook my food this way?

The King understood, and the poor man was given his reward for his feat of endurance.

--

I think I will devise a bastardised form of haiku and use that to write my piece for this week's Experimental Writing. And I should probably leave for my lecture now.