The weather must have been quite similar but they seem tinged in a different kind of sunlight for some reason- the shorot more golden and the hemonto more orange and the summers more dazzlingly hot and the winters so pleasant so coffee I don't know how to explain it? There we used to sit at the old Milonda's and smoke and drink coffee before winter-morning-tests and it was so pleasant...and the rather smoky days...and I made Supriyoda read this particularly bad poem of mine (18 is a dangerous age) and he was dazed&doped as usual and he said "Ei meyetar modhye kichhu alada achhe" and then You should write. Isn't that what everyone in JUDE inevitably does?-Write?- the ones who are never happy, the ones who seek Solace when Dasgupta's is closed, the ones who smoke and who smoke pot or sit near the ones who smoke and who smoke pot....and suddenly in my tandra (how do you translate that? Reverie? Half-sleep?) I shuddered with this inarticulate sort of nostalgia-mingled-horror! When does one get out of it? When exactly does one fall out? Fall out of love? Fall out of habit? Fall out?
And the tutorials and the fun times and the ledge times and the times we got to know seniors and the first few seminars and volunteering and the sense of community...if you don't want to be like that there is no problem being like this...but then not being able to figure out where and what you want to be? It's sort of difficult trying to encapsulate the sitting-on-the-Comp.Lit.stairs and the creeping out for GFK&chloromint between classes...(Howlie never inhaled a Classic, Pragsie never read a classic....muhahahaha)...and the time Pragsie puked and puked after doing his first joint and the heartbreak I suffered after doing my last...(which is also aeons ago!) And sitting with Srin for a lit-quiz and then the horror of qualifying for a tie-breaker? I wanted to call us "Hot Coffee With Chocolate In It"(that is what we were drinking right then) but those nincompoops of organizers never noticed. And the first play I went to with some seniors and that included Maddy-oh so cute Maddy who had just quit smoking- Raisin in the Sun- Momo was the brother of a childhood friend- when I saw him in the play-looking a bit strange with the paint on his face...I thought, "Gosh! He has changed."Smelly shoes and chocolate cakes. And a best-est friend. And the Barkestra, Alal thinking "Who let the dogs out?" and looking a wee bit surprised that the KMC could not take us away. And then Bapi Keno Papi? wherein my name was NeelAkasheEktiTara De! Life has become tamer, nest-ce-pas? *Sigh*
I accept change, as we all do, but sometimes the crowd of new faces and new people, it is so difficult. Sometimes seeing a familiar face-anything which makes one recollect those days(pleasant as they were)- and how can they not be? Everything tinged in sepia-light, brighter and lighter than what they actually were. Attachments made and lost, loves no more than ghosts, dreams- some not even remembered. That is what scares me most. Not remembering.