Slinging scribbles

Its 3 am in the morning. The whispers of wind are apparent enough. Nothing unusual about them. For the past two years at Symbiosis, they have been passing through my hostel gates, along the roads, classrooms and our hostel rooms. But, this was the air of melancholy. Today was the last day I would be living as the Symbiosis Institute of Media and Communications student. What was it that was missing? Placed, yes; going back home happy, true; then what the hell was missing? I stepped out of the room, wearing my track suit, the one which I earned following my selection in the cricket team of Symbiosis. I decided to take the journey to my campus, the one that I had walked endlessly on for various reasons. It was wistful reminder of the silent, stupid, happy nostalgic moments that I had shared along the roads. As I passed the cricket ground, it brought memories of the injuries that I shared on the ground and the subsequent limping towards the medical center for relisprays and pai