Farewell

This is what I had quoted from Illusions (Richard Bach) in the farewell invitation I had prepared for the outgoing batch of 2005:


          Don’t be
         dismayed at good-byes.
   A farewell is necessary before
you can meet
       again.

                And meeting
              again, after moments or
                  lifetimes, is certain for
                  those who are
                friends.

It was easy to write at that time, it was difficult to face it “now” – the final nail in the coffin; stamping you officially out of this place which has been much more than just home for the four best years of your life. My odyssey at ISM had to come to an end – every good thing ends sooner or later – I would also be wrong in saying that I wasn’t prepared for it; yet, any amount of preparation always seems less when you actually confront it. The day comes, leaving you flabbergasted, shaking you from inside – wake up; you are about to be thrown into the mayhem outside, enough of the cocoon of hostel life – look how bitter and dirty the world outside can be.

The ceremony was great. Clad in my only black cotton trousers and a white shirt borrowed from a junior, festooned with a garland, drinking early and then dancing with the band they had arranged for, I thoroughly enjoyed the “informal” ragging and then the introductory sessions at Opal. I was overjoyed with the sudden downpour starting around midnight, exactly the time at which I was out for party-hopping – attending the two other farewell parties arranged in different hostels on the same day – giving myself a good excuse to drench when Chandra and Kundan accompanying me weren’t much interested in the idea. After this wonderful drenching-in-the-midnight-when-drunk experience, drank some more, danced some more, got everything above waist torn to tatters, ate a bit around 4:30 a.m. and then called off my day with a 5:30 a.m. RD session.

Its afternoon now. My muddy trousers are hanging in my room besides the torn shirt. The soaked up leather shoes haven’t dried yet. The socks are strewn on the floor. Everything says that yesterday night has ended. The mind knows its not going to come back. The adventure is up, the only reminiscences being the few pictures stored on my system. Yet a part of my heart wants to stay here “forever”.