(In celebration of the rituals at Mandakini Bhawan)


You do the things again and again, things that you did everyday, in the hope that it will last a little longer but it never does. You will go through the same routes, the same roads, each time with fewer friends, having said goodbyes to your dearest ones not a very many few hours ago.You help them pack their stuff, drag it all the way downstairs. Certain things, certain memories are found in the cupboard buried deep.

You try very hard that the realization does not crash upon you.You push it away, not wanting to acknowledge that you can’t run to the rooms where you always found solace, tight hugs, Korean songs ( :p ), maggi, your stolen slippers, solutions, comfort, inspiration, motivation, a shoulder to cry on, gossip, jokes, incessant giggles, magazines, catalogues and much more because those rooms are now only empty shadows of their owners, friends you know by heart. Infact, you can’t bear to look at them. You hate the realization that the people who allowed you to make a home, away from home, are finally leaving you forever.

You weep because a little bit of you is going away with them. You cry because it’s not the ending you want. You make relationships, deep ones, the kinds you never had before and you let it run its own course; never thinking that you leave all of this in 4 years.

You realize that that extremely significant but small time was never enough and you crave for the companionship of the friends who loved you, teased you, fought with you, driven you mad and made you fall in love with them again.

You wonder whether in the coming years you will receive just as much love, laughter, motivation, songs, fun, fame; as many countless acquaintances, juniors, seniors and adorable friends.

It hits you that your entire lifestyle is being snatched away. You can’t rush to a specific room when your coffee runs out or when you have some indigestible news. You cannot run to your friend’s shoulder crying after a movie because only she understands that you are made that way. No one will come to you late at night just to get a hug and some inspiration. Nobody will feel comfortable in your messy room like your friends. Nobody will feed you, walk in scorching heat alongside you, lie for hours on mats in the corridor in humid summer just to enjoy the last days of an era.

After a few days, you contact them again. You find the same comfort, the same soothing voices, the same excited chats. You make yourself believe that nothing has changed even though everything has, because there is a certain ease there. You are scared to say goodbye again because you must believe it’s not the final one. It can never be. It never will be.


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