Adieu.


I remember my last day in Calcutta before i left for college.And by the way... it shall always be Calcutta,or Cal... but never Kolkata.

I remember the summer sunshine,the blue sky...and that i was sweating on that unusually humid day.Amid last minute shopping and completing minor errands,i paid homage to my alma mater...Loreto House.I stared at the red church steeple,and the yellow walls from the pavement outside The Berkmyre Boys' Hostel,feeling the peace and protection that the walls offer.

I traipsed down Camac Street,Theatre Road....playing an imaginary hopskotch on the broken pavements on Lower Circular Road... recalling the times i "loafed" with Susmita and Pratibha.....

I was excited,I was hot.
I was happy,I was irritated.

I felt grown up; leaving home to go to college.
I felt scared,leaving home to go to college.

I was confident that I'd manage everything.
I was apprehensive about "everything".

Denims,my story books that amounted to a miniature library,sneakers and floaters(would i need any other form of footwear??)can i carry off a kurta over denims as formal wear.....
My favourite coffee mug,tons of staionary,my oldest colour pencils,and the pen with the broken nib,my Parkers,blue and black ink that would prob see me thru college(they didnt...)
Little reminders playing in my head all the while...

Like everything else in Cal.. the weather is as moody.It soon turned cloudy,grey... and yet remained sweaty.

I found myself standing at the Hazra Road Crossing.It wasnt a drizzle.it wasnt a downpour.It was something inbetween.

Soft enough to stand in.Effective enough to soak me to the skin in 5 seconds flat.

I thought of my two best friends who had left for college a couple of days back....college again.
I remembered that I was leaving too.
I looked at what i was leaving behind.

Though it rained,the chaos of the traffic did not cease.In fact it had increased because the traffic police had scurried off to look for shelter.
The tram made a turning,making a slight,but noticeable inclination to the left as id did so.Dignified and stately in the midst of the private tin buses who know no traffic rules.The hoardings on the face of the buildings screamed of tuition classes,coaching classes,opticians,doctors chambers and food joints..... all of which was crammed in the adjoining lane.

Overhead was a maze of telephone and electricity wires,and everything other possible thing which could need a wire.Wet crows perched on them.On the oppposite corner were remnants of yesterdays political larty meet.Another party...another meet...another traffic disruption.
Around me... colourful umbrella tops bobbed as the women beneath them moved around brislky.Once in a while a male figure would dart out from the sidelines(i.e.... a shop wehre he was standing to avoid getting wet)..into the middle of the road where he would hop onto a bus which would never stop,but might slow down if it was merciful.

This was muy city.This was home.The warmth,The colour.The mess.The dirt.The middle class lifestyles.

The rain trickled down my hair.
The tears were camoflauged.

No one knew i was crying.
I loved this place.....Why was i leaving....??
And i swivelled into the wet front seat of an auto richshaw,which had barely slowed down before it accelerated into the rain.