I turned the first page of the question paper and had to whisper to myself, “This is the sickest joke I have ever seen in my whole entire life.” “They must be crazy,” I added.

Duration of the exam was one and a half hour. First page of the exam question stunned me so hard that I put down my pen. I should have at least written my admission number anyway where there were seven boxes for those seven digits. They must be out of their minds. Writing in those tiny boxes made me feel like I was stupid. Well, it didn’t matter. Not much anyway. I noticed that particular smell of the answer booklets. It gave me a thrill. It reminded me of my childhood. I even took two close breaths intentionally while putting my nose against my answer booklet. What a pleasure it gave. From here on out, I had to keep doing something to keep my mind occupied at all time. My empty mind was killing me literally. With this mind, I was not capable of performing complicated tasks, according to the definitions. Maybe I should start counting all my steps from my home to school, that might make me feel something unusual, for good. I could not let myself get carried away, I must not forgot. I collected all my thoughts and I looked at the digits more carefully and I suddenly got dizzy. Were they even recognized as digits? Or were they fish? How weird. I was sure my answer booklet was definitely not a pond. I started checking other students. Surprisingly, they seemed to know what they were doing, getting on with their answer booklets. I could not see any trace of any fish hanging around their answer booklets. How nice. I took my time taking deep breaths with the hope of getting back my reliable senses. So I again checked my question, which still didn’t make any sense. The second page was even worse. Maybe it was because I drank too much coffee that morning. Maybe it was the smell of the answer booklet I took into my lungs a little earlier. I must completely stop drinking coffee ever again. It was killing me slowly.

My watch was showing me that ten minutes had passed by. It seemed as if it was working fine. I smiled a little thinking the water from my answer booklet didn’t affect my watch. Not yet anyway. The lecturer in the room stared at me for nearly a minute when he saw that I was not making any movements. His eyes seemed to be asking me what I was waiting for. To which I had nothing to say. So I said nothing. But I had to pick up my pen and wrote the date anyhow on the first page. After 3 or 4 seconds, I took a glimpse back at his face, I decided myself that he could not be the one who set this tiny little cruel sentences with digits coming in and out of the passages. How disgusting. They ought to ban this kind of writings. I could not even imagine for a second that he taught this kind of things. He seemed pretty normal for a guy in the 40’s. I was hoping he would come to me and change this non-sensical sheets with something I could at least read. Maybe he was not aware of all this happening to me. So I put my left hand up for around two seconds and he came to me. I told him about the wrong question paper. But he said there was no mistakes. My question paper was exactly the same with what everybody got, he insisted. I didn’t quite understand but I nodded twice quickly because I was so ashamed that a few people around me was looking at me like I was some psycho. I said to myself, the lecturer who set these questions would come around in a few minutes I was sure, I must wait for him and tell him everything. Maybe I could even claim back some of my lost time waiting for him. He would understand. He sure would. It was not my fault clearly, he would see. There had to be some mistakes with all this. So I waited.

My seat was right in front of the air-condition system and the direction of the air was flowing right toward me. That was not good for I had a very sensitive nose. It tended to run like a waterfall after exposing to cold air for even less than ten minutes. If I got myself a runny nose, I could not manage to study for the next next modules coming so soon. That I was sure. I had to refrain myself from thinking about this nose for it would only get worse. Then I started drawing pictures into my answer booklet. It helped a lot. It even convinced the lecturer in the room that I finally got some answers and I was doing my best before it was too late. I filled up my first two pages with revolvers and motorcycles. Well, time flied so fast then because my watch was saying it was almost a half an hour already that I had been in that room. The question writer must be somewhere bumping into some old college friends for all I could think of. Never mind that. I remembered it was a sunny day. I could even see the sky from where I sat. Little bits of cloud here and there. That was so beautiful even through the glasses which separated the room from the outside. They must be crazy to put those kinds of glasses which completely ruined the nature’s beauty. That day was the day that I learnt trees were that green. How surprising. If I were someone who mattered there in that school, I would lose all those glasses. Rooms would be without air-condition systems though, I know. The heat would come into the classes. Well, I loved heat. Why not.

At first, I was not even aware but soon I realized that the day’s beautiful weather had brought me to one isolated place inside my brains where there were exactly the same warm weather and the same sky with little bits of cloud here and there. A sunny day, indeed. But instead of the classrooms and buildings, there existed a small little village. There in the morning, I was sitting out having a cup of coffee in front of my little house in my own little garden while the girl that I fancied was in front of hers. From where I sat, I could see her. However, she could not see me. I was looking at her affectionately while she was carrying on with her duties in her garden, enjoying her hobbies. I hadn’t got to know her yet, not even her name, not a clue. I didn’t have to, anyway. The distance between us was around, say, 20 metres. I just sat there looking at her. Without any certainty there everything in my mind was so white and clean, I would not ask anything more than that. I could die right then. I could. I would just keep staring at her, feeling that simplicity that I could die for. I wouldn’t go out there and talk to her. I wouldn’t try to get to know her or touch her, not because I was scared of rejection but because I didn’t need anything anymore than that. That was it. The moment. I was whole, just nice. If I tried to change or improve anything anymore, it would all collapse I knew. That perfect set of conditions under that beautiful sky on a sunny day with the girl who didn’t know I existed. A warm day with green leaves shaking high above from the ground whenever the wind had its actions and the pleasure of listening to the sound of the leaves. When everything was so perfect, I just stopped fixing anything anymore, and started enjoying what I had, right there at that unique moment. Trying to linger as much as I could. I was contented with what I was seeing and hearing at that particular moment. “This is so nice just looking at her,” I couldn’t help but said to myself. I believed that sentence had gone out loud. Loud enough for an exam room that the guy beside me gave me a strange look.

After a while, I felt like I had to go to bathroom. I usually do not go to bathroom during my exams. That day was a little different as you could see. I had nothing to write anyway, at least before the question writer came. So I went ahead and asked a permission to go to bathroom. He made a couple of phone calls and got me an escort on my way to the bathroom. To which I had nothing to say. So I said nothing. We, me and the escort, had a chat as we were walking along towards the bathroom. And, of course, he found out I was a foreigner, who came from Myanmar. He started telling me about Aung San Suu Kyi. I could tell he was real comfortable and happy while he was talking about that. Or was it merely what he was trying to make me think about him and all this. I do not know for sure. And, suddenly, he sounded like he was guilty for all this happening to my country. I would love to convince him as a friend that it was not his fault. But I didn’t. Why did he even care? What was his point? Even I, a Myanmar citizen, did not have any slightest interest in that area. Then I asked myself a question: why didn’t I have any interest in that area. What kind of a man am I? There were people who had very strong patriotism. They would probably want me dead. A useless citizen, they would say. They would probably want me beheaded in some public place. Should I wear my glasses when I went for the guillotine? When my head went falling from the blade, I wondered where my glasses would be then. Would those still be on my face hanging from my ears. I didn’t think so.

I would love to explain to them patriots as a friend over a cup of coffee or two that I was exactly the same with them inside out. Of course, I had my patriotism and that I loved my country. Why wouldn’t I? I grew up singing my country’s national anthem every single day. However, every time I sang, I had to refrain myself from collapsing into the meaning of the words that I was singing. In which I saw no life. It was futile to let yourself fall into those words since you certainly would feel ashamed after falling. Let me put it this way, I simply am just a guy trying to live arranging my meanings of life into my tiny little box of mind. And I clearly could not succeed even that yet, let alone leading or doing something good for one’s country hoping it might change, which in turn would change so many people’s meanings of life without any certainty. Wouldn’t that be so cruel? I did not dare involve myself in that equilibrium so balanced and still. I myself could not find any real solutions to my troubled mind. I realized I was letting myself get carried away again. I finished up washing my hands and got back to the exam room. I even forgot about my escort, the poor guy. My watch then said I had to stay a half an hour more to stay in that room. Well, I didn’t mind that.

Then came the question writer who walked directly toward me, the lecturer in the room must have informed him that I was not acting very normal. I would not say he was crazy or something. I was in no position to judge him or anything. But I noticed he had sad eyes. He asked me why. To which I had nothing to say. So I said nothing. Three birds flew very closely near the glasses from the other side of those. Why did they do those kind of stunts? They could have died bumping into the glasses. After that thought, my eyes went gazing at the clouds so huge and heavy and amazed by the fact that they moved so fast, I even forgot about the man who was asking me questions. Am I absent-minded?

I must be sick. I literally could not find any interest in anything anymore. If you were to send me to my favourite place, I would not go, more like I would not care either being here or being there, let alone treating me my favourite food, hoping to see me responding to that like an animal. Fat chance. What about going to the moon? To the Mars. Would it matter? Try sending me to a prison, I wouldn’t mind. Seriously I wouldn’t mind at all. I could live anyhow. And I wouldn’t mind dying. What about all those obsessions that I had had once? I couldn’t tell. I might have lost my will to live somewhere along the way. Again I certainly would turn down anybody who came offering me a ride in his latest Ferrari or anyone who came offering me to stay in his grand penthouse. I didn’t want anymore experiences about anything anymore. Three months ago I went back to Myanmar for the first time in almost three years. I stayed there for seven weeks. What did I do there? I did nothing there. It was more like I went back to Myanmar to use my laptop, which I brought from here to Myanmar together with me when I was going to there. I did nothing as in I didn’t go out in Myanmar to have any new experiences. I stayed in, drinking coffee and reading philosophy. I didn’t care about anything happening there. I just kept thinking about meaning of life, thinking and thinking, changing my soul inside trying to find the truth with the help of philosophy. That’s about everything that I did there.

Three of the students who had finished their works left the room. I hated those kind of students who left the exam room earlier, before the time was up. I hated them a lot. I myself had never ever left the exam room earlier. It made me feel guilty leaving exam room earlier like that. Anyway, I had 15 more minutes by then. One of the students started tapping the desk. He must be so stressed out. White. I realized that the room was painted white. White was the colour that I loved. But I loved the colour black more. If I could, I would change everything I owned with all the black. As much as I could get. The lecturer was collecting the answer booklets already. I picked my answer booklet up and gave it to him rather than letting it pulled away from the tabletop. Besides, that slight rubbing sound produced from the paper and the tabletop would again scratch my heart deep. I simply could not let that happen. Oh, I must not forget to keep back my pen and admission card for I would need it the next day again for the next module. And I must not forget to zip my bag properly because those important things might just drop anywhere. I could not afford to let those kinds of things happen. Leaving the exam room, together with the smiling faces of others, thinking one hardship had passed.

Really. Nothing in my life had changed.

I was exactly the same guy who walked into that room one and a half hour earlier. Maybe that was just what I wanted to think about myself. I might be losing my mind. I might be.

Something must have changed after going through all this. Something must have changed.

triblenon-2
As inspired by Albert Camus, Jean-Paul Sartre, Fyodor Dostoyevsky and Franz Kafla.