It’s like traveling in time a few years back. Life lived. Engulfing me in dust covered shelves and dishevelled cupboards. Where does the past live? Where? A patch of green land which was free of moss last year? Or the next window where someone else lived. And now is inhabited by curious faces who look at me as if I am the outsider.

Why does change always change you? Why is there a new building on the field I used to play? So many mobile snatchings, chain snatchings. Old engagements breaking to form new weddings. Why does life move on? Why do juniors grow taller than you? Why do they take my place in my college? Why is my friend getting married? Why is my room no more my room? Why are all things paralyzed in my room? As if with my absence they too have become immobile. Why doesn’t mom keep my stuff clean? I only told her not to throw my stuff away. Why is my room treated like a common lobby? Where are my childhood friends? Where are the silly games?

Where have the idyllic days disappeared? Why can’t I wear the blue uniform and have 7 Rs worth veg chow and Rs 20 chicken roll?

Past maybe past, it still lives in the present sometimes. Despite the Vishals, Big Bazaars of the world. Fancy bazaar is still fancy and Maligaon is Maligaon. We still meet the old people with a few new faces interspersed. Jubeen still sings in Bihu. Only difference is this time he came on stage as early as 10 pm. I still call my friends in the middle of the night from my fathers phone – Reliance to Reliance and silently keep the phone back in its place in the wee hours of the morning.

It still rains cats and dogs. There are more posters around the city. There is a News Live – news without compromise and there is Big FM, Gupshap and SFM and there are is CCD right next to Dighalipukhuri, there are multiplexes….

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