I went to college last Monday. That is exactly one week ago. It was to pave way into another college. Serendipity smiled on me, in the form of two of my friends. One a colleague and junior and the other a classmate. The journey to, was very enjoyable, exchanging ideas and information.
The usual ecstacy in going to the "God's own country" was absent that day, may be because of the weight of the journey or was I overcoming my infatuation over the ordinary Mallu girl? or may be just because I was anxious of the success of my visit.
The first feeling after I woke up was a happiness owing to the escape from Bangalore. The thick vegetation passing by the window of the bus was a reminder of good old days and a reminder of my pursuit of such days in the future, both simultaneously. Yes, I am terribly sick of Bangalore's dust, traffic and smoke by now. The first feeling after stepping into that morning mist in the college was a complete remeberance of those good old days, the royalty in owning that place. I love my College, a proof that life can be good, at least in retrospect.
After my friend and I parted ways, I was walking alone on the road beside the hostels, it suddenly swept over me. An over-powering feeling of gloom and fear, the kind of thing you feel in a grave, an urge to run away. The fear of a something sweeping over me and taking me into that ground floor room in A Hostel or that top floor room in B Hostel, both facing the road. I think I know what it is, it was my own guilt! Yes, my longing to do it all over again, do justice to myself, to Him. It was my own feeling of guilt that was haunting me, my belief that none of us did any justice to that place so dear to us. Oh! I wanted to run, this lonliness was a torture. I reached one of my juniors' room. It was a solace.
As I moved around in the campus, it was a different feeling. The feeling that my college has been taken over by someone. It was all too calm, unlike the noisy city I was staying in. The cloudy day made it look even more gloomier. All those unknown faces in one of the most familiar places in this world. A typical case someone's world coming tumbling down around him. I wonder how I could wait there under a tree for my prof. Those lovely trees, I want that world back, oh, not in the form that it is in now.
The best part of the day, was that half-an-hour where I assure myself that there is beauty in this world. It was a hard earned half-an-hour, waiting outside her room for everyone else to make way. Needless to say, it was good. It was different this time. There was none of that childish infatuation, it was like good friends, even like a teacher and a student. She was the same person, whom I am always in search of.
A taste of the old days included, the breakfast in F-hostel mess, the uneatable lunch in the canteen (I wonder how I could stay alive eating it for four years), the talk with those teachers, the typical teasing of one another my juniors were involved in, the bus journey to the city with the cool wet wind flirting with your smile.
The journey back was not very sad, after all it was an escape from gloom.
As life moves on, somethings change, somethings do not.
