Fantasy..

Here I finished the most awaited book “Five point someone” finally. Not that I m a big dieheart fan of chetan bhagat but I read all the other books by him apart from the very 1^st one. I was introduced to him by Nikhil who wanted me to read ‘One Night @ Call centre’ (so he gifted me that one). Was a good book worth a read (and I read it twice). But this post isn’t about chetan or his books. This is about my fantasy, a lifelong fantasy which never came true.

My fantasy to stay in a hostel in my student life. Isn’t that amazing, staying on your own, away from your family taking care of your own things. The freedom of taking decisions, managing your own finance, being on your own in all ups and downs. All this sounds super exciting to me. I always kept dreaming as to how it would have been if I had a chance to stay in a hostel. Not as paying guest and all but being an hostelite. Being under those restrictions, rules still finding your way out, breaking the deadlines. I strongly believe if I were in a hostel even for couple of years I would have been a total different person( don’t worry not a spoil brat) do have some friends who have stayed. Life in a hostel teaches you so much. I mean one should really stay in a hostel to know the real “you”. It makes you self dependent it makes an individual.

I do have friends who stayed in hostel. They kept telling me stories about the life in a hostel. Like how goody goody it may sound to stay away from folks this and that, but nothing remains Mary go round. But you know what I don’t care how harsh it might turn out to be, I would get a lifelong lesson. A lesson of its kind. This book reminded me of my long forgotten fantasy. And I enjoyed it so much cos kept imagining myself as one of the character in the story and kept thinking how it would have been. It was too good of fun even when I cant go and do those things I could at least do it in my imagination in the world of this book. I would always regret not having that peace of happiness, fun, madness being an hostelite…

For us from architecture:

crossing under the bridge a road that only vaguely reminds me of what it used to be a year ago someone plays the radio I hear a song so long forgotten and it fills me with nostalgia I am not really allowed but I grab at it anyways as I desire through a traffic jam almost geometric the music cuts me from all angles I am reminded of sitting around pavement cutting chai and the jingle of coins we saved for it in bored midnights and blurry pencils we talked of passion and love for laid bricks that make you feel like living the city comes alive suddenly you see it all in black and white lines are emerging out of every side as I realize we might be inside a comic strip and the building look like our portfolios with the incomplete coloring the white bricks on my cad wall and yours with yellow green trees the shade you forgot to draw inspired by what you never understood the words crash against your heart at 3am in the shabby room your parents refused to entre and your feet we fall we break we shake take make and at the end we just throw all the papers away and start all over coz we are not alone now and the music like the lines heal every cut you gave yourself making your last model far away somewhere the day breaks and we know the passion has not died for it is our truth we always know that we are what we are