Memoirs

I had to put this one... from an earlier blog

Half a decade has gone by and nothing really has changed. The same door, corridors, cracks in the window mirror and a spectrum of scribbles on wooden desks. Memories, happy and sad, carved out on pieces of wood for yet another decade to come until new scars form a layer over the previous ones. Layers of memories, of generations on pieces of wood. Half a decade has gone by and nothing really has changed.

The canteens aged duos continue to throw coins. The cafeteria Chinese still gives me a stomach ache and the loo at the ground floor continues to stink as ever. The lift man still refuses to allow the last person to get in, the watchman still asks for your ID when you are late for lecture and Mary still manages to send shivers down our spine. Half a decade has gone by and nothing really has changed.

The concrete walls still have the warmth of a friend. The benches I sit on still give me the sanctity of a mothers lap. The miniscule campus where I walk, even today means the world to me. Half a decade has gone by and nothing really has changed.

Almost everyone on campus have sex appeal oozing out of them. Those who don’t are trying their level best to get it. Attendance is still the first thing in my mind when I enter class. Ten minutes of break still seems so less and professors are even today the hottest topic of canteen gossip. Professors kept changing and so did the company, yet gossip prevailed. Half a decade has gone by and nothing really has changed.

So many years of calling this place my own. So many years of a concrete structure being a prime recognition of my identity, my very existence. However, a couple of months more and things shall not be the same. Faces in the campus have been changing every year. Seldom did I ever take notice. But this time, I do. I take notice because it’s me who is changing, who is being replaced. Next year, when the canteen still echoes with hungry stomachs calling out to Mukesh, Prakash, Madan and Chakravorthy, I will be nothing but a memory. A scribble mark on one of the corners of a wooden desk. Half a decade has gone by and finally something has changed.

(Yes, when it comes to certain things, I live in the past and am happy living that way)