White full shirt, with a pair of blue jeans, brown punk hair, stud in left ear, and glares shining brightly and reflecting back what is to be seen by him, was that guy, roaming continuously around the balcony of his college. It was the time of year, when one would expect a lot of heat and dirt and sweat on another’s body to be on display. As per regular schedule, the guy came and attended his regular lectures with slight amount of anxiety hovering in his mind. That feeling of anxiety, which was the outcome of the continuous hard work he did, for the results, which may crash his soul. The guy, always called as the DANCER of his college was in an unusual state of mind, where he was conflicting with his long term achievement of being a dancer and his newly introduced outburst of anchoring.
He was all known for what he did last year on the stage with the proper movements on the particular rhythm i.e. dance. He was now thinking beyond his imagination to do this newly eroded feeling of his own i.e. anchoring. He wanted to prove the world that he has the potential to do what he thinks he can, and what he actually can. No matter whatever the situation occurs, he would strive against them to make his mark among the odds. But the destiny had something other in den for him.
