Last Three Days

Last three days in Kachhnaar 24.

End of the year and I still don't know how to spell my hostel's name but that is incidental.

Today has been a good long day. I sit in the middle of the mess and just think back to the last nine months.(Funnily, exam time pushes me into the 'reflecting' mood!).

From the first nights curled up on my bed, grumbling some of the choicest swear words cursing the unreasonable seniors who wouldn't stop ragging us to missing home to gathering reels of this 'oh so fast moving' motion picture in my head, this room has seen it all.

From shamelessly scarring its poor walls with my wrath in the form of the hideous blotches of paint I still call art to scribbling randomly on the white of the wall to dusting the shelf carelessly in the name of cleaning it.

Never realised a room could have such a cool existence!

Between the many nights I have sat up trying to sort relationships, clutter on the table(not so much, though!) and my mind and oversleeping on holidays to rushed days to packing excitedly 12 days before going home for the term break, I have 'lived' so much right here.

From perfecting the art of copy pasting to bitching to howling to laughing like retarded juveniles. And tears roll down the (n-3)th time tonight as I prepare to make peace with the fact that atleast now it shall be cleaner(hopefully)!

The sudden breaking into a 'hurt my neck the next day' mad dance to leaving the bed undone because, what the hell, it was going to get undone when I plonk on it later anyway! From switching off the main lights of the neighbour's room while she was inside, knocking on neighbour's neighbour's while she slept and running back at the speed of light only to slip in my room, I have been 10 again, 20, 50 all right here.

From 'Sana live heeya' to yellow post its on the door to vulgar puppets to unread newspapers left stuck in the door to broken locks in the 2nd week of inhabitation to new found friends.

From forced tea parties, orgies (well only one!), avoiding friends after fights to smoky party hidings.

From reading till I slept and repeated play lists and kettle cleaning and endless shots of doppio to poems on my laptop written on my clothed table to finding myself.

To hurriedly leaving it. Hurriedly but as hesitantly...