A holiday at last. Not a joke that Sundays usually are, squeezed in between six days of being a work-crazed maniac, but a proper holiday. Away from the four bare walls of my house. Away from the beautiful place that I live in, the beauty always a reminder of the fact that I appreciate it alone.
A walk down memory lane. A two-day holiday in the city where I spent the last two years of my life. I am going to Ahmedabad to visit my friend. But who am I kidding! I need to go back to my institute, to our campus. To the time, when I looked forward to being alone. When the door of my room was constantly open, when my friends and hostel-mates didn’t think twice about entering. To the time when I longed for some privacy. To the time I so desperately miss.
A tryst with emotions that I have tried hard to block out. Emotions that I have pushed back to the cob-webbed corner of my mind.
My ‘To do list’ for Saturday/Sunday:
• Walk barefoot on the front lawns. (How often did I do that in the past! In the moonlight, in the early hours of dawn, when the dew-wet grass tickled my feet.)
• Sit outside my room. (Where I sat every day. Sometimes in the evenings, sometimes at 5 a.m. when our campus was finally quiet, sipping coffee made with no milk and sugar begged off a neighbour, soft music playing in my room.)
• Play a game of badminton. (I am almost proud to admit it, I was a badminton maniac. I have played hours of badminton. Sometimes, after finishing off my assignments, till 5 a.m. in the morning.)
• Go sit at Chhota, our canteen. (Green trees with wide-spread branches sheltering the canteen from the hottest of suns, ensured that Chhota was a great place to hang out at all times. A hammock and a tire, swinging on them; bucket chairs, that we always fought over; food, though half the things on the menu were never available; cold drinks which were usually out of stock and seldom cold; cups and cups of coffee, welcome at any point in the day; studying under the shade of the tree and at night under the dim light of a solitary lamp; chatting with friends, yapping, soul-talking; weeping the last few days, when I knew that the time to leave had come.)
• Pat Roxy and Peggy. (The famous homosexual couple of our campus. Roxy the Alsatian. Peggy, aka, Pegasus a stray dog named so because of the sound of his feet when he ran. Roxy, the docile dog, who accompanied me on most of my morning walks. Peggy the dog with a snipped tail, who begged for attention, begged to be hugged and patted. Roxy, who loved the comfort of our air-conditioned class room, and often sneaked into our class much to the disgust of our faculty. Peggy, whose tongue was forever licking my hands, my cheek.)
• Ride my friend’s Kinetic. (I learnt to ride a two-wheeler for the first time there and then I never stopped. The wind in my hair, the speed, the wonderful times, singing on the Kine as I rode, getting away when the campus got claustrophobic; freedom)
• Go Neel gai (Blue deer) watching. (My favourite pastime in the last term. Knowing the right time to spot them, the right places. The silhouette of a Neel gai in the setting sun. The perking of the ears. Once, on a field trip to a neighbouring village, I had hugged a baby Neel gai for 15 minutes, the poor thing had been caught by some villagers. Scared, shivering, its long-lashed beautiful eyes fearful. I wanted to hold it and protect it but I let it go so it could join its herd.)
• Talk to Thakurji (The senior-most watchman. The most talkative of them all. The one who would unfailingly stop me when I wanted to go out. The one I have sat with on a cold winter night, roasting my hands on the fire. The one who said that I am intelligent and that I will do well in whatever I do in my life. The one who told me that I will find my dreams.)
• Have a glass of cold cocoa (The most amazing drink for Rs. 10 only. The owner of the shop, an old fat, bald man with old worn out clothes, had told me that he would visit me wherever I worked. Another person, who I know heaved a sad sigh when I had said goodbye. He, who would treat me to a glass of cold cocoa, while we chatted for 10 minutes about the most inane of topics.)
• Go to the mess for a meal and then not eat. (How many times have I done that? Food in the mess was always awful. Pretty good as mess food usually goes. But awful when you have to eat the same thing day after day, with no respite.)
• Eat a meal at Upper Crust (My favourite restaurant in Ahmedabad. The food was affordable as a student and ‘yum-yum’ tasty. Very far from our campus. But what’s a little distance when you need to get away from the mess food.)
• Let go of my emotions. (Cry all those tears that I know are locked in within. Sob for all the times that I have left behind. Another leaf in the book of my past.)
A walk down memory lane. A two-day holiday in the city where I spent the last two years of my life. I am going to Ahmedabad to visit my friend. But who am I kidding! I need to go back to my institute, to our campus. To the time, when I looked forward to being alone. When the door of my room was constantly open, when my friends and hostel-mates didn’t think twice about entering. To the time when I longed for some privacy. To the time I so desperately miss.
A tryst with emotions that I have tried hard to block out. Emotions that I have pushed back to the cob-webbed corner of my mind.
My ‘To do list’ for Saturday/Sunday:
• Walk barefoot on the front lawns. (How often did I do that in the past! In the moonlight, in the early hours of dawn, when the dew-wet grass tickled my feet.)
• Sit outside my room. (Where I sat every day. Sometimes in the evenings, sometimes at 5 a.m. when our campus was finally quiet, sipping coffee made with no milk and sugar begged off a neighbour, soft music playing in my room.)
• Play a game of badminton. (I am almost proud to admit it, I was a badminton maniac. I have played hours of badminton. Sometimes, after finishing off my assignments, till 5 a.m. in the morning.)
• Go sit at Chhota, our canteen. (Green trees with wide-spread branches sheltering the canteen from the hottest of suns, ensured that Chhota was a great place to hang out at all times. A hammock and a tire, swinging on them; bucket chairs, that we always fought over; food, though half the things on the menu were never available; cold drinks which were usually out of stock and seldom cold; cups and cups of coffee, welcome at any point in the day; studying under the shade of the tree and at night under the dim light of a solitary lamp; chatting with friends, yapping, soul-talking; weeping the last few days, when I knew that the time to leave had come.)
• Pat Roxy and Peggy. (The famous homosexual couple of our campus. Roxy the Alsatian. Peggy, aka, Pegasus a stray dog named so because of the sound of his feet when he ran. Roxy, the docile dog, who accompanied me on most of my morning walks. Peggy the dog with a snipped tail, who begged for attention, begged to be hugged and patted. Roxy, who loved the comfort of our air-conditioned class room, and often sneaked into our class much to the disgust of our faculty. Peggy, whose tongue was forever licking my hands, my cheek.)
• Ride my friend’s Kinetic. (I learnt to ride a two-wheeler for the first time there and then I never stopped. The wind in my hair, the speed, the wonderful times, singing on the Kine as I rode, getting away when the campus got claustrophobic; freedom)
• Go Neel gai (Blue deer) watching. (My favourite pastime in the last term. Knowing the right time to spot them, the right places. The silhouette of a Neel gai in the setting sun. The perking of the ears. Once, on a field trip to a neighbouring village, I had hugged a baby Neel gai for 15 minutes, the poor thing had been caught by some villagers. Scared, shivering, its long-lashed beautiful eyes fearful. I wanted to hold it and protect it but I let it go so it could join its herd.)
• Talk to Thakurji (The senior-most watchman. The most talkative of them all. The one who would unfailingly stop me when I wanted to go out. The one I have sat with on a cold winter night, roasting my hands on the fire. The one who said that I am intelligent and that I will do well in whatever I do in my life. The one who told me that I will find my dreams.)
• Have a glass of cold cocoa (The most amazing drink for Rs. 10 only. The owner of the shop, an old fat, bald man with old worn out clothes, had told me that he would visit me wherever I worked. Another person, who I know heaved a sad sigh when I had said goodbye. He, who would treat me to a glass of cold cocoa, while we chatted for 10 minutes about the most inane of topics.)
• Go to the mess for a meal and then not eat. (How many times have I done that? Food in the mess was always awful. Pretty good as mess food usually goes. But awful when you have to eat the same thing day after day, with no respite.)
• Eat a meal at Upper Crust (My favourite restaurant in Ahmedabad. The food was affordable as a student and ‘yum-yum’ tasty. Very far from our campus. But what’s a little distance when you need to get away from the mess food.)
• Let go of my emotions. (Cry all those tears that I know are locked in within. Sob for all the times that I have left behind. Another leaf in the book of my past.)
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