Goodbye 202

As I write this, I am surrounded by piles and piles ( and_piles_) of stuff. Clothes and papers and shoes and plastic bags and other bags and books and books and books. And stuff and more stuff.


It seems impossible that I am the same girl who walked into college, with all her belongings stuffed into two bags. Now I need eighteen, and thats a rough estimate before I have even unpacked.


I'm going to blog, as I unpack, as I sort through longforgotten drawers and treasures in the lofts and unseen notes and pages and secretly stashed away candy.

time - 8:02 pm

sigh at all the stuff on various areas of room. Start by putting all clothes away.
change mind decide to pack all thingys which are un-slottable.


8-24 pm

Managed to fit in some thingys into all the available suitcases and bags. decided not to look through it too much, not enough time and way too many average memories.
Get drink of water. not lose too much heart at the sight of all the books.

Its, like, the end of an era

I miss those walls. Sunkissed, yelled at, painted on and scribbled on, and beaten with and splattered with and used as leverage and scribble pads and poster frames and pictures of

How can I tell you what it is like to say goodbye to a room of sunshine and spills?

202 welcomed me (us) with open arms.

We have left with so much more love from the world, so much less uncertainity and a whole lot of very very good things.

202 has seen many happy people crammed in it for b'day parties and lonely sobs at 3 am phone call times. It has allowed us to spread a mattress on the floor for a troubled someone more and equally been efficient with newspaper on the floor during dhaba food parties.

We've spilt, at various times, ink and blood and tears and ketchup and juice and paneer and soup and gin and vodka and beer and water and we've just as carefully and knowingly mopped them up and moved on with life.

For over four years, we have run to its walls, its safe spots,its stuffed cupboards and its food stashes. ( and more importantly, its phone charging points)

We have lost keys and lost locks and broken down doors and bolts.

Beds have been shifted around. So have loyalties.

Much bad watery maggi has been cooked. much food-from-home has been gratefully eaten.

We have, in these four years, lived a life, which though not without its rather painful moments and times of distress, been a sort of experience we can only characterise as home.

202 was a godly room. Love and melodrama and learning and success. Lucky as hell for us we moved in where we did then.


I miss those walls. I miss the ugly mural and the eerie yellow lamp light and the window which let in only bugs, not air.

It _is_ the end of an era.
dont you know?