As a hosteler, there are certain things that are prohibited.
Falling in love with the mess food.
Setting a condition that a particular pair of jeans should be worn only twice.
Expecting a 500 gram Boost pack to last more than 5 days.
Waking up before 8 am.
Of these, I started breaking the fourth law by the end of my second year. Not with the aim of excelling in academics.
The purpose was much more purer.
A morning walk.
How did the idea of a morning walk take its root in my head - I know not.
I neither have any issues of diabetes (I hope so) nor am I a person concerned with physical fitness. I guess the desire for solitude and silence was what led me towards this now-treasured routine of mine.
I have re-discovered the beauty of many a forgotten song during my walks. There is nothing more exciting than the beginning of an unexpected song as you take a turn leading to a long empty road.
But the ultimate gift of a morning walk would be the undisturbed nature.
Leaves that dance in their branches like the supporting dancers of a 90's Tamil film romantic song, squirrels that keep running hither and thither as if in the wedding preparations of a close friend, birds that keep crowding at random places to disperse after a minute and conduct a meet elsewhere like a political party's members on an election day - all such moments lay waiting for the eyes of a privileged few like the health conscious joggers, the dark skinned old man riding on a Hero cycle to operate and start the motor pump and the sleep-deprived-colorfully-dressed security guards returning to their homes.
"The same route every morning.. The same locations and surroundings.. Don't you get bored?", One of my roommates asked me, one day, after I returned from my morning walk.
I gave him a simple answer (after which he gave me a Ada-Goyyale look).
The path might be the same but every morning has been different.
And I meant every single word of my answer.
The sun would decide to show up earlier than usual, one morning.
Another morning would symbolize a standing testimony to the previous night's rain.
There would be mornings when the weather would complement your mood.
You would come across a To-hell-with-life lazy dog enjoying its slumber once.
You would come across a not-so-lazy tree lizard another time.
A beautiful flower ostracized from its community would catch your eye on a morning.
Every morning I have walked has been unique. For reasons like the above ones. Also, primarily, due to the memories that get carried over from the previous day. Many happy ones and a few, sad.
It was during my walk today that I decided to post this. But after the decision had been made, a sad truth hit me.
And it has begun weighing me down since its revelation.
I have only 13 more morning walks left at my college.
Falling in love with the mess food.
Setting a condition that a particular pair of jeans should be worn only twice.
Expecting a 500 gram Boost pack to last more than 5 days.
Waking up before 8 am.
Of these, I started breaking the fourth law by the end of my second year. Not with the aim of excelling in academics.
The purpose was much more purer.
A morning walk.
How did the idea of a morning walk take its root in my head - I know not.
I neither have any issues of diabetes (I hope so) nor am I a person concerned with physical fitness. I guess the desire for solitude and silence was what led me towards this now-treasured routine of mine.
I have re-discovered the beauty of many a forgotten song during my walks. There is nothing more exciting than the beginning of an unexpected song as you take a turn leading to a long empty road.
But the ultimate gift of a morning walk would be the undisturbed nature.
Leaves that dance in their branches like the supporting dancers of a 90's Tamil film romantic song, squirrels that keep running hither and thither as if in the wedding preparations of a close friend, birds that keep crowding at random places to disperse after a minute and conduct a meet elsewhere like a political party's members on an election day - all such moments lay waiting for the eyes of a privileged few like the health conscious joggers, the dark skinned old man riding on a Hero cycle to operate and start the motor pump and the sleep-deprived-colorfully-dressed security guards returning to their homes.
"The same route every morning.. The same locations and surroundings.. Don't you get bored?", One of my roommates asked me, one day, after I returned from my morning walk.
I gave him a simple answer (after which he gave me a Ada-Goyyale look).
The path might be the same but every morning has been different.
And I meant every single word of my answer.
The sun would decide to show up earlier than usual, one morning.
Another morning would symbolize a standing testimony to the previous night's rain.
There would be mornings when the weather would complement your mood.
You would come across a To-hell-with-life lazy dog enjoying its slumber once.
You would come across a not-so-lazy tree lizard another time.
A beautiful flower ostracized from its community would catch your eye on a morning.
Every morning I have walked has been unique. For reasons like the above ones. Also, primarily, due to the memories that get carried over from the previous day. Many happy ones and a few, sad.
It was during my walk today that I decided to post this. But after the decision had been made, a sad truth hit me.
And it has begun weighing me down since its revelation.
I have only 13 more morning walks left at my college.
(The College Diaries is
a shameless attempt to increase the number of posts in this blog in a short
span of time and in the process, recall and cherish various instances and
incidents of my college life that strike pain and pleasure in the heart in this
last fortnight I spend here.)
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