Home is where the heart is.

It’s been two days since I landed back again in Varanasi. I left for college on 20th May and reached the destination the next day. I booked the train ticket on 11th May and the waitlist was WL48. One can say that it is tough to get a ticket confirmed which is on the half-century’s number. I wished it didn’t confirm, so I could stay at home one day longer. But what we want rarely happens. It got cleared and I boarded the same train.

—May 21, 2017—1:00 PM
I got off from the train, took a taxi and came to the university. Bozo was staying in the college. To get a room allotted in the hostel, two people were needed. No single rooms were available. Bozo had come back early and he needed a roommate. So, god bless him, he paid my old hostel’s mess dues, paid the new hostel fees, completed the formalities and got a room allotted. All this before I reached there. I reached the hostel’s gate. Just one problem. I didn’t know the room number. I dialed his number. Bozo’s phone was off. 10 minutes later, still his phone was switched off. I asked the guard. He had no idea who lives in which room. Neither expected from him. I was already sad leaving the home and now I don’t have anywhere to go. It was hot out there, I wanted to relax on a bed and drink some cold juice. Okay, water. But nothing came to my rescue. I sat at the door on the chairs beside the guard. What could I do?
My mind flooded with a dozen thoughts at the same time- “Take a walk around. Look into all the rooms, check every room. You will find it.” The next was “But checking the whole hostel…it will take more than an hour and also there are seniors staying in the hostel.” More like these “Sit here. Wait, you will see somebody familiar, who will get you to the room.”

Then, I stood up and walked to the desk. There is an In-Out Register maintained at each hostel in which you have to enter your name and details if you leave the hostel after the permitted time in the night. I opened the last page and went through the last two days entries. And there was one with the same name. Let’s check the phone number. They matched! Cool. I went to the room and found Bozo sleeping. He opened his red eyes. I put down my bags there. The room was burning.

That evening, I was just roaming in the hostel. Checking the tall palm and mango trees. Yes, there is a garden in the center of the hostel, the hostel is square in shape if you see it from a helicopter. The place was new. There are very few people whom I know. To be precise, only one. Summer is on the peak, it’s hot out there. When I am jobless, that too in a new place, I miss home. I had nothing to do. I didn’t want to live there. I wanted to be home. I wanted to lie in front of the cooler all day long, I didn’t care about the water in the cooler. It was always filled, I was taken care of. I wanted to sit on the roof with Mom. I was homesick. Very much, after a long time. It was like the first time like I had come for the very first time to live in a hostel with people I don’t know. Last time, this happened in July 2016, the early days when the college life started. I remembered those days, I used to just sit and think about home and then called Mom. The memories made me more nostalgic. I also missed the old hostel. It was the second home. I had friends there, my room was my home. One year is enough. I missed the fun I had with Walter, Jordon and all the other people there.

—May 22, 2017—
I woke up at 6 AM. I stepped out of the room. A nice weather welcomed me. The sun was behind the gray clouds. No sunlight. Just as I like it. I was made a little cheery by the skies. I went on to the roof. A spacious roof with no one around. And a cool breeze blowing. The trees were swaying in the gentle breeze, I could hear the leaves rubbing. There was a chair. I wonder who had brought it? There were some empty glass bottles. I got the answer. The bottles were quite old. I sat there and unbuttoned the first three buttons of my shirt. I called Mom. I sat there for an hour. I had to reach Madhuban at 9. Madhuban is a garden in the campus with a Nescafe. I had never visited it though. It was a meeting fixed regarding my Internship with Divaswapna. The representative from the company had asked me and the other Intern to meet there. Believing in the nice nature, I decided to walk all the 2 KM way to the garden.

I shifted my luggage and belongings from the old hostel to the new place yesterday evening. It was better after everything was arranged. But still half of me wanted to be at home and if in college, I wanted to live at the same old S.N. Bose hostel with all those buddies.

—May 23, 2017—5:45 PM

5:45 is the present time. Now, there are few more people whom I know. To be precise, three. I can go to their room, talk or chill. I m living with a guy from civil. I don’t know him. He is a reserved boy unlike me. He talks on necessary occasions. Very less. It’s been a day and we have exchanged hardly 8-9 sentences. Just purposeful conversation like “I am going out, lock the room if you go somewhere” and “Give me that charger”. Nothing else. I thought about how I yelled at Walter every 15 minutes and got the same in response. Anyway, let’s see what unfolds in these two months. Then, I again have to move to new hostel for the second year.


One thought on “Home is where the heart is.

  1. Pingback: Goodbye 2017! Round-Up Post! | Tales Of Life

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