All Fool's Day
I've always bemoaned my painfully slow realization of the events of my own life. Their size and capacity to twist the contours of my life into new shapes never ceases to amaze me, but I do wish I were a little quicker at understanding the magnitude of the change when it comes upon me. Size up its capacity for havoc in advance, so to speak. It's not for nothing that I'm called The Tubelight. Bright, but a little slow with the light. However, I am happy to report that there seems to be some real development in my general incapacity in this area. Some shedding of light, if one may call it that.
About a week or so ago, the first year at MICA truly came to an end. It had ended in several ways before that day- in terms of classes, hard work, exams and other similar trivialities. But on the 1st of April, All Fool's Day, it truly came to a close. I worked my room, my beloved Kachnaar 21 into boxes capable of holding material belongings, but pathetically incapable of enclosing any of the memories that wonderful home has brought me. For a whole year it has held me and my moods, kept safe my belongings as well as my unbelongings, harboured my joys and sorrows, welcomed new friendships and most of all, moored love between all its four walls and kept it always, despite everything, in place. With it's little space, it was generous not only for and to me, but also for and to my A. It wasn't just mine, a new possessive pronoun needed to be used- it was ours.
As I watched my home dissolve and disappear into those boxes something began welling up inside me. By the time I was done, it was like a massive knot within, somewhere between heart and gut. I realized I wanted to cry, but no tears came- Tubelight as always, I thought. Finally, after hours of labour our home was empty of everything but me. Kachnaar itself was deserted and I know that on any other day, it would have unsettled me deeply enough to make me run for company. But I stayed, I didn't run; I suppose I am thankful for those final quiet moments in that beautiful hostel with its lonesome courtyard. All around me rooms gaped with their doors wide open, ravaged of familiar faces and familiar voices. If ever I've seen something hollowed out, it was that day.
I prepared for the departure- shower, some last minute packing- and then the last of us gathered on the steps outside. It was almost as if we were drawn there. Not quite inside the hostel and not quite out. It was almost time to leave but we still wished we could stay back. Inevitably, memories were recounted- some were laughed at, some made us silent. It was an odd time. Finally, the time for departure arrived and I went up to our room one last time. I sat on our bed, looked at the view beyond our window, our door which barred so much and allowed so much more, and the knot finally dissolved. It really was time to go. But thank God, there was some joy in this goodbye too- the tubelight had finally switched on at the right time. On time to realize just how large this change would be, just how it would change the contours of my life. Ironically, just then, there was light. [and thank God for friends, if not for them, I doubt I'd have dragged my luggage to the parking lot in time at all.]
I touched everything one last time, kissed our door goodbye and AJ turned the lights out as we walked away. I cried all the way to the parking lot, then some more as I hugged our Seniors goodbye. But I cried the hardest when PS halted us all on the path out of Palaash-Kachnaar and said, "One last look." I kid you not, never had our hostels looked so achingly beautiful. The sky was a dark ink blue, the first stars were out and a near full moon shone right upon our patch of sky, right behind the hostels. I think we all cried a little.
All Fool's Day, so far, had been the day when we made a fool of someone else. Where we played the prank. This time around, we played the fools. Us Juniors left our beloved twin hostels, and the Seniors MICA itself. And somehow, although the joke is lost upon me, I feel sure that we are the fools.
Still, we have another year to go, new rooms to grow into, bigger shoes to fill. I look back upon the past year and if I could wish for something this coming year, it would be to be a little more aware of the hours as they pass us by. The days of the last year seem so tightly woven together that I fail to truly find a significant beginning and end to each of them. It's like a singular beginning and end separated only by the commas of significant events in our collective and our personal lives. Next year, I hope, shall bring days and nights that are separated each from the other; if nothing else, it might just slow the year down and give us a little more to savour. God knows this year has given me enough memories to treasure, it's only made this fool hungrier for more in the next.
This entry was posted
on 8.4.07 at 9:57 PM.
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its the most perfect penning of one of my worst evenings too.i can touch every bit of it now
Everything is transitory in life .. we are forever moving on .. the hostel remains .. the corridors stay .. the voices are embedded in the walls .. they have now become a milestone in our lives .. time to move on to the next
for all the dreams and hopes and plans, of which u were a part...for all the memories that u gave a shape to...for the home that u were...for the coocoon that u provided...the safety net, the one place where i truly felt i belonged...the one place i still long to return to...where i could drop my defences...where i could cry...where i could be.
u will be missed, K-21
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