It's day 70 of me meeting my coolest, moody, and stylish new friend and also the same day when I left my warm, steady old friend. There is so much of my old friend around so little of me that it's getting hard to know my new friend. My favorite side of the bed, the way six-thirty pm chai smells, that fight with my brother for AC/TV remote, unmade bedsheets with wrinkles in my shape of the body, the hills painting they draw on the first day of kindergarten, that movie night, the carvings on the last bench, intense Chinese checker game, the tempting smell of pani puri, that one favorite room in the college, that famously known secret, that one favorite chat wala, that same sooryavansham film in sony tv, my home and its all you, you, youu. Happy farewell Thinking about my old friend might sound like a broken record but you're everywhere, every page of my old book which I never wanted to turn but will turn to the fresh pages of the same old book because there are so many places...
Believe me, this is not just another sob story, it is instead a brave one, about two years of a rollercoaster of emotions with our pockets filling with a lot of memories, fights, events, love and affection and a perfect mix of madness and creativity, certainty and uncertainty, living all those days being careless and not counting we built our "HOME" with bits of happiness. You were like a bookmarked chapter of my favourite novel. Those were the days we're fighting over something stupid, chasing our dreams, screaming but still caring for each other, attending the classes and pretending as if we were listening to the lectures, running for pani-puri and playing dumsharads in the break. Laughing and commenting on our teacher, who is teaching an unknown language in the same strange language, bunking classes, sharing our lunch, late-night lessons and enjoying freedom but still worried!! woh din bhi kya din the We're all struggling to bloom, to grow, to get better. We had c...