Slinging scribbles

People generally assume hostel to be the place where life enjoys its every moment. With practically no one to scoff at your deficiencies, it encourages you to live the life of a free bird. It’s also the only place where every friend is just a doorstep away, assignment and attendance is taken care in lieu of perquisites and most of all; it’s where beer bottles always run short of glasses! Parties, birthdays and festivals add zing to the already colourful life that one receives in the company of several buddies. But, if that would suffice the entire hostel life, it’s surely an incomplete tale. With all its fun and galore, the life also passes though the dark, often recounted tales of depression and traumas that arise out of living in a different world. Hostile at times, a hostel life is often cruel. With new companions and newer rooms, it’s never easy for a person to settle with somebody who has completely different tastes. It’s also where experiences experience change as one moves...

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...