I am in the “feeling senti” wala zone now, this very moment.
I should tell you something weird. I always feel that I am never ‘the me’ living this life; it’s someone else leading this life, my body hosting her and I am a mute spectator to her being and ‘living’.
The very spot from where I clicked this picture reminds me of a lot of things. I remember ‘her’ running to classes, making it just in time for the 8:45 class, managing to hold a cup of coffee in one hand and finishing the last bite off the butter jam sandwich from the other hand. I see her cursing the wet grass, the slippery tiles, the ‘early’ morning classes and the no-nonsense deadline of 8:45 AM.
I remember her running to and away from the photocopy place, getting the visa docs sorted. I remember her nervousness and her self-reminder that if she can pull off the visa process, it would be an achievement in itself. Then followed reminders to pull off the student exchange program, the Bell’s Palsy, the placement periods.
I remember her attending the company presentation supposed to be held at 3 PM that happened at 7 PM. I remember her frantically making a call to the internship manager to try one last time to ask the HR about the PPO, for she was confident that she would crack the ‘company’ that night and it would be her only last chance of not being associated with that brand.
And the reunion time when she took all her time to take in the feeling of the ‘campus’ like she never did before. Oh, how she was anxious about the reunion too!
How she attached weights to each of those events, how she wanted to reward herself for every achievement (and she never actually rewarded herself for any achievement :P), and how seemingly overwhelming they made her feel!
What may seem to follow might be about what life lessons this place taught me or what should be the key takeaways from this philosophical piece. Please! I never would even bother to look for explicit lessons or lecture about “Things to Learn from the Pikchar!”.
May be, for me, lessons have never been explicit. If learnt, they were implicitly done, quietly imbibed into my wisdom of doing things. An alarm doesn’t go off when I try to do same wrong things such that I am reminded of my past mistake and consciously correct my way of doing, thus applying lessons. May be this mechanism of learning lessons work like feedback, albeit without any dramatic juxtaposition. The next time I am expected to do something without committing the old mistake is something that naturally comes and there’s no conscious feeling of lessons proudly creeping into conscious and making me redo things.
Anyway, coming back, this post or the picture associated is not about lessons or inspirations. It is a reminder of her past- beautiful, complicated, never-again. Just like me, it’s a mute spectator of her evolution, and her past becoming my past. Nothing more, nothing less. Just that.