I had been living in the college hostel for a fairly long time before my parents actually left Poona because it was a little too much of a distance to travel from home every day. Moreover, dad thought that it is essential for all of us to grow up outside home and start learning life’s lessons (most the hard way as I soon found out!) Hostel life was a bundle of fun and I had the best of both worlds because whenever I felt like it, I could simply catch a bus and head home. The food at the hostel canteen was pathetic ( to be kind to the contractor!) The rotis were more like papads and the papads were more like rotis! Nonetheless, when things got unbearable, I simply headed back home and spent a few days with my folks before getting back to hostel life.
I was more than happy with the set-up and at the time hadn’t put too much thought into what it might actually be like to be a hostelite full-time! When dad said he was switching jobs and was moving to Ludhiana, I was rather indifferent to it altogether. I assumed I was fairly accustomed to living away from home so wouldn’t have too much of a problem with adjusting to life without my folks in the same city. Moreover, I had some really close friends at the hostel and was having a great time. Studies had already taken a back-seat and all other activities, more so getting into trouble with the authority was already a forte! Even before my folks had left, I had already built what might be called a foster family at the hostel. In fact, if I may confess, I was looking forward to the experience of being able to live away from my folks. I thought I might actually be a tad better off without having mum around to constantly hound me with so many questions and restrictions. As is the case with most 18 year olds, I was arrogant and a rebel without a cause. I couldn’t see eye-to-eye with my folks on a number of matters including politics, religion and more importantly my lifestyle. I ached at times to be independent and live the way everyone else did at the hostel, without too much supervision or inspection. I hoped and assumed that a life at the hostel would be truly fantastic for me.
As the day of my folks’ departure dawned closer, mom obviously started getting very sentimental and possessive and being the pseudo-man that I had just been developing into, was rather arrogant and considered her show of emotions both naïve and a little too girly for my tastes. Mum would often be hurt at my show of relative indifference and my subsequent arrogance. I thought myself to be stronger and much wiser than my mum at the time. My bro (he is 9 years younger than I) was at an age where he considered me to be the ideal to emulate (a view I am glad he has since grown out of and is very much his own individual) and so reciprocated a relatively stronger emotional outlook, even if it was just an emulation of me. Yet, as the days grew thinner, he began sharing mum’s views and was growing increasingly reluctant of leaving the town he had grown up in. I was growing increasingly impatient with the two of them and often lectured them to be a little more understanding about life. It was a natural thing for us as humans to migrate and relocate from one region to another. Each place had it’s own charm and sooner or later, we’d discover the charm of Ludhiana too.
The day they were supposed to leave, I spent the day at home packing everything and checking the lists to check if there was anything left behind. I sat around tagging everything, counting and cross-checking, labeling all the cartons and all the bundles and ensuring everything was in order. When we reached the station, quite a few of dad’s old friends were there to bid him a final farewell. I was standing among them and laughing and cracking jokes when dad suggested I should go and sit with mum. I went inside and put a shoulder around my mum and my bro. Needless to say, mum was crying all the while and giving me instructions on what I should and shouldn’t do. I was a little cheesed off cause she was treating me like a kid. I wished she wouldn’t, I was an adult now after all. Eventually, it was time for the train to leave and got off. I was standing at the window and mum held my hand. As the train started moving, I started walking along with it. Mum was still sobbing and her tears were now flowing a lot faster. I broke into a jog as the train picked up speed and I tried letting go of mum’s hand but she held on. Then she loosened her grip and let go. I still ran along with the train for a short distance before slowing down. Then I stopped and I saw my mum still with her hand out waving to me, eyes overflowing with tears and all red, my dad and my bro standing in the door and waving at me, both looking rather somber.
One of my strongest and most emotional memories to this day, has been that last view of the train leaving the platform and my folks waving out at me. After all my long lectures about being strong and all my non-sensical talk about life, something ticked off inside me. I suddenly felt empty inside, I suddenly realized I wasn’t gonna see them for four months and suddenly I wished I could speak to my mom again… I reached back at the hostel and the rest of the evening was pretty much uneventful. When I went to bed, I couldn’t sleep all night. Honestly, to confess, I cried all night long…
