The vividness is disturbing. The intricate details linger, in shapes, in colours. Places have an invisible force- vellore in particular does-it clings to those who've been a part of it. I can still strongly smell it's warm familiarity, not because of frequent recall, but because the aura still surrounds.
What a life that was. The freedom was gaping. There was untamed madness in the air, as perpetual as the smell of weed, amidst lazy class-goers and couples huddled on footpaths. There were the trains - I strangely miss them the most. Outside college, there was endless space, there was the hustle around cmc, there was kasam, there was china town, where you couldnt stay an hour without bumping into three people you knew. Vellore had its secrets- you had to know where to look- under shady trees, beneath your feet, in thorny bushes, in pacific bay, in burma bazaar, in bus 1 and bus 2, and of course, at katpadi station (carrot samosas!). Sometimes you had to look in tasmac.
The vellore sky was enormous. You just had to look up to see the Orion and be reassured that all's quite well with the world.
It's now slowly sinking in - my reactions have always been late and drawn-out - that I will use the past, inaccessible tense whenever I talk about this home of four years.
What a life that was. The freedom was gaping. There was untamed madness in the air, as perpetual as the smell of weed, amidst lazy class-goers and couples huddled on footpaths. There were the trains - I strangely miss them the most. Outside college, there was endless space, there was the hustle around cmc, there was kasam, there was china town, where you couldnt stay an hour without bumping into three people you knew. Vellore had its secrets- you had to know where to look- under shady trees, beneath your feet, in thorny bushes, in pacific bay, in burma bazaar, in bus 1 and bus 2, and of course, at katpadi station (carrot samosas!). Sometimes you had to look in tasmac.
The vellore sky was enormous. You just had to look up to see the Orion and be reassured that all's quite well with the world.
It's now slowly sinking in - my reactions have always been late and drawn-out - that I will use the past, inaccessible tense whenever I talk about this home of four years.
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