To begin with something nice, though it is not my creation, I quote from one of my favorite blogger - "How good a place can be measured by how sad you felt when you left the place.". These were the lines I was thinking last night on a solitary smoke. I was consciously asking my heart not to race, shitting is better than a racing heart, though its awful to write down like that .
I was quietly enjoying my solitary smoke when this natural cool wind, out-of-blues, was blowing in the middle of a typical Chennai summer. Just before I had started out I made myself heavy with a touching movie Khuda ke liye. Great times like these are always packaged with stuff like a senseless conversation and I had gracefully lied myself away to enjoy the tranquility. I relished the smoke watching the quadrangle cricket through long rows of coconut trees at one side and the green foliage under the dark sky on the other side. I realized it is fun to smoke on a mirror because you see your image clearing up through the haze that you created. Just as I reached the middle of this cigarette a myriad of thoughts flashed over my mind. I always dreamed of disentanglement from any kind of relationship with places but no one can escape falling in love with ones own Alma mater. I am afraid of missing it more as I get closer to leaving it. The corridors, the mess-top, the wing-mates, all the eventful images flashed randomly in a fraction of time. I then begin to hate the taste of fag and resolved to quit it. Quite naturally my resolutions in the direction of my development had always been weak.
As I rush my selves towards my computer to write down all my thoughts I realize more important duties to accomplish. To actually love this place for the rest of my life I need to full-fill a few responsibilities, disobeying which the authorities may have to push themselves in to make me relish such moments for a little longer than the usual time quota allotted for a B.Tech student.
