I looked at the ceiling of my room and found a cream colored fan squeling. It produced more noise than it ever produced air. My watch showed 5 am, still in the sleep zone. This place had a peculiar sleep period -3 to 6. 3am when all the terrorists and counter terroists put down their guns and 6am when the ghots picked up their books. It was strange for me to wake up that early yet i decided to take a peek in the wing especially because of the extremely pleasant climate of the past few days. I got into my slippers and walked out surprisingly not into the Ashok pi wing but into a corridor where my Chinese land lady greeted me with her typical chineese smile. “Again you wake up early?” She questioned. I gave her a baffled look. It was the third such incident this week and it seemed I was being haunted by my treacherous past.
Every time i wake up I find myself in this hostel room which immediately transforms into some new place as my eyes start to clear up. My semi conscious sleep is dilapidated by screams…angry screams of my friends shouting to pass the ball. Sometimes i feel like a war veteran who can’t shake off his past. A table for five reminds me of the fights we had for french fries and do ande ka omlete in the mess. Any melody i hear takes me back into the good times of yester years and every party I attend seems lack lusture compared to the groove of the music nights. Cnot, anc, sac, qt, fd, ltc, audi, mandir, c-d-m-t-sky lawns, hostel rooms, wings, bogs… too many memories causing a sweet sour pain. People say we must not get hung up on the past. But what if it is a past worth cherishing and reliving? The problem with the world is they tell us what to do without telling how to do it. Move on they say without telling how to…
Now that i stand on the brink of a new life that promises to keep me occupied so much so that i would not have time to reflect even on my own past, here i am, like many of you, thinking of the distant possibilty of time travel, rather a time freeze to loop my life between the four years for eternity.
Can we ever out grow this uncanny love for the past, the memories, the moments and ultimately life itself?
BITS- The best and worst thing that happened in my life.