Ki joote kahaan utare the..

Chhoti-chhoti chhitrayi yaadein

Bichhi hui hain lamhon ki lawn par

Nange pair unpar chalte-chalte

Itni door chale aaye

Ki ab bhool gaye hain ki

Joote kahan utaare the.

Aedi komal thi, jab aaye the.

Thodi si naazuk hai abhi bhi.

Aur nazuk hi rahegi

In khatti-meethi yaadon ki shararat

Jab tak inhe gudgudati rahe.

Sach, bhool gaye hain

Ki joote kahan utaare the.

Par lagta hai,

Ab unki zaroorat nahin.

I can't believe it's been only 4 months since our share of time with YIF got over. In May on this date, we had all come back from our convocation. It was one of the proudest moments of my life till then. I was foolish enough to not realize it earlier. I remember having quietly shed some tears sitting in my seat there because my parents could not be there to share the moment with me. In the night that followed, we were all overwhelmed with the feeling of departure. I was among the first to leave - with an early morning flight to Mumbai. In the last few days, we had really gotten close together like a close family. Someone had mounted a white board with the names of each fellow written on it. As someone would leave, we would strike that name off. On the top of the board was written, "We part, to meet again."

Well, part we did and meet, we do - in bits and parts, in small groups. But oh what would I give for a couple of days in our hostel rooms in Katwaria Sarai - the village in the heart of South Delhi. And, to attend classes sitting in that cozy auditorium in the Aurobindo Society. It was one year, but it seemed like so much longer! And, like all good things in the world, it came to an end. We had to move on, to let another bunch of people to come in and step into our shoes and experience the magic. Today, when I see pics of those who came in after us, going on a picnic together and having breakfast at a place where we had breakfast once as a collective, it seems that the magic has begun to work on them already.

While these memories come back to me, a question subtly pops up in the corner of my head. What do I owe more to. The institution that I grew up with, or the one I matured with. I feel so distant from my teenage home today that memories from those days seem almost forgotten. It's a wonderful feeling when a new experience is so powerful that it washes away the previous ones and you move on. Perhaps, that's what living is about. One set of experiences after another?