Back in 2007, I recruited from the West Hall after a stay of 2 years. It was a tough moment to leave the 97 # room. I remember clearly, when there were only 2 or 3 of us left in the end, after every one had left. And, when it was my turn, inevitably I felt cold drops of tear on my cheeks that made their path down to my neck. I could not stop it, and nor did I bothered to do so. There ran a shiver in my body when it was time to say good-by to friendly service men. (Even today in Gricewold I miss them).
Then it was over, I didn’t understand it whether it was attachment to West Hall that made me feel sad on leaving it, or was there a feeling of regret. Or it was just a ritual or copy of what I had experienced at Shah Karim hostel genuinely back in 2005. But, there was something.
Then after the year 2007, I was a nomad. I waved 5 goodbyes in 1 & haif year and they were all as simple as changing a cloth. No hard or soft feelings and no tears. By now I started to think that I have become mature to curb any such feelings at time of partition.
But, here I am, in the midst of yet another climax. I got entry in Gricewold for 6 months and got a ticket to live life to its fullest within the campus. Far from the awe and wows of the outer world, and more importantly with my best friends, Bahawal & Rizwan. I am 3 days away from the final farewell and 1 of my friends, Bahawal, has already left. People have started departing and I am yet to go through it, through the same eternal feeling, amalgamation of happiness & sadness, flashback of all the glorious moments, snapshots of all the little quarrels, and the bruising of my heart…
Yet another Farewell…
But, now I think, the ‘final farewell’ will make one complete, leaving the hearts of others bruised.
