Wednesday, 18 April 2007


31st March, 2355hrs

The walls are stark and white, almost as I found them, the mirror, the curtains, the things on the shelf are all gone. The only sign of my having been there is a single quote scribbled next to the table in crayons. And even that will be covered by a layer of white plaster paint in a few days.

But to me the music of the past year echoes in every draught of air that blows across that small space. It still seems mine though all my things are gone… the rustling of the paper on the floor just a symbol of everything that Kachnar 18 had become in the past year – my haven, my home, everything.

I remember the moments of peace that I found here, listening to music, reading, or simply lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling. Moments of frantic activity beckon me as I recall the numerous assignments, I can almost see my friends sitting in their favourite places in my room. The noises resonate in the absolute silence, weaving their warmth, and their nostalgia around me.

It is stark and brightly lit, yet it exudes the serenity of the soft yellow lights that I am so fond of. That much I think has become part of that room for me. The subtle smells of the perfumes just packed linger. They will not be there in a day from now but that matters not for in my memory the room with the newspapers littered on the dusty floor, with a bare bed and empty shelves, unlike the room the night before as it may be, is still mine. It still smells of me, my music still fills it and rings in the walls. A few remnants of my days there – empty bottles and tubes, discarded case studies and the like – still remain there. That is the way I will remember my last day in K-18.

It is perhaps just as well that I will not have a junior staying there but some stranger whom I will never know for I would not be able to stand it if someone were to make of that room what I would not in front of me. In ignorance indeed lies the bliss. The memories of today will remain the lasting memory of that room for me – my first outside home, my first tryst with myself, and MY first home.

I say my byes sitting on the ledge outside – my favourite perch. From there I look in as I often have in the past. I say a quite bye to all the memories. Then I walk away. A few minutes later, I go in once again, pick up my luggage, turn off the switches and latch the door for the last time without glancing back. My first year at MICA has finally come to an end with that innocent act that is as symbolic as any. I shut old doors and get ready to open new ones. I feel somewhat like Alice in that corridor with doors on both sides. There is something behind each of those doors and I am as determined as her to find out what lies behind each before I make my choice.

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