— Navaneeth CV
It was a cold February night in Chennai. The day was long and tiresome, and I found myself too exhausted to socialise. In deep need of some time to rest and heal, I shut myself in my small hostel room and switched on the yellow light. I laid my body on the bed and drew the bedsheets over to shield myself from the creeping cold. The aurous rays of the tinted light filled every nook and cranny of the room. A woody smell had engulfed the air, and the bright fairy lights bounced off the creamy walls. The Tibetan prayer flags, hanging from the shelves, fluttered in the slow breeze of the fan. And as I lay on the mattress, I remember feeling happy and relieved, rare emotions in the hustle and bustle of the campus.
Just as my senses were beginning to retire, a sequence of knocks came pacing from the door, unsettling the delicate tranquillity that had come to be. I felt an urge to discover who it was, but my nascent sleep was not quick to oblige. Nevertheless, the knocks rang once again, this time with an urgency quite visible in its tone. It was inevitable. I grudgingly removed my warm bedsheet and placed my feet on the cold hard tiles. I mellowed towards the door and peeked out into the dimly lit corridor. And here, my gaze met a familiar face. It was my friend, standing by the entrance, leaning onto the wall beside. His smile reminded me that it was time for our midnight tea at Usha. By then, hunger had begun to set in, and my reluctance thus gave way to craving. We locked the door and went on to invite another friend of ours to join our midnight stroll.
We exited the hostel and made our way into the empty roundabout in front of the Jamuna bus stop and further towards the OHM. The cold night air was silent except for the rumblings from the Mandakini construction site, and the remnants of Suprabha lay by the wayside, submerged in shadows and gloom. The street lamps which lined the road stood like sturdy Corinthian columns from which light oozed onto the pavement, granting direction to the couples in love and lonesome cycles that passed every now and then. A family of blackbucks galloped gracefully across the SAC road, and a cool breeze flowed through the trees.
Taking the turn on the junction between Sharav and Sabarmati, we arrived at SFC. As we left the darkness and into the light, a change in mood swept around us. Laughter and chatter swelled the air, and familiar faces filled the spaces. Walking past those gathered, we made our way inside. I got myself a cup of hot black tea and a packet of Oreos from Usha. After getting what we wanted, we eased out of the crowd and settled by the railings. And here, we began to meet acquaintances and friends, who were there for reasons same as ours. While most exchanged greetings and went their way, some joined us. We conversed and laughed with each other whilst consuming the hot tea (both literal and otherwise). As I was cleverly nicking off dosas and milkshakes from my mates, I couldn’t help but notice how many like us filled the SFC. On the steps, by the railings, over the tiles and under the streetlights, they stood, sat, talked and laughed, their faces bare with innocent emotions. As I stood there, I felt a warmth radiating from within, a sense of intimacy, affection.
However, almost 2 years later, as I dip the Oreos once again in tea, I cannot sense the warmth that had once been. It is as if I had forgotten how it felt. The intimacy, consumed by a void of solitude, was lost among the march of time. There are none around apart from fleeting memories which manage to come by now and then. And even when they arrive, they carry with them a tinge of sorrow and an inkling that I may not experience them ever again.
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Article 19 