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I always wanted to share this day of my life. A time to say good bye.
I was always longing to leave this jail, and it was my last day at Abdullah Hall. For an inexplicable reason, my heart was heavy with the thought of leaving.
It was the time for the final cleanup of my room; with the stern warden checking to see I must do it right but I had more important things on my mind. Everything seemed secondary to the turmoil inside my head.
Today I remember those three memorable years which I spent at Abdullah hall with such wonderful friends.
The thought of never being able to enjoy any of birthday bashes and midnight parties was wrenching my heart. Even the idea of dreadful moments like paying fines for bunking classes, saying ‘sorry’ to the professors for mischief, feeling upset for getting bad grades, all appeared positively enthralling. Flooding back came the memories of celebrating Sundays, doing ‘Masti’ from 9:00 am to 06:30 P.M like an ‘Azad chidiya’.
Now, I was free form watery tea, laundry, ‘Jali’ (burnt) chapattis, Mathri & Jam on Sunday mornings, and the tasteless Friday special Biryani which we all used to look forward to.
As I picked my things to pack, I realized that Life would go on even if Dhaba and Chandru’s coffee shop lost one of their loyal customers.
Then my eyes fell on my old blue diary which my mother had gifted me. I had collected all my friend’s & junior’s autographs with their recollections in that diary.
I had to pack Nilofer's one trunk as well, who was my soul mate & best friend for those three lovely years. She and other my friends were coming back for 2004 session for their Masters, while I was leaving. I always wanted to go. I had dreams. I wanted to explore, but that movement I suddenly felt unsure of my decision.
My mind was wandering. The days of ragging and praying to god for it to be over quickly. My short hair which was to be oiled and tied at all times with ribbons of two different colors, saffron and red (Keeping it open was a No-No). The commandment to use one saffron dupatta for Namaz, to be removed only while using bathroom.
In those humid days of worst weather and no electricity, we were forced to wear full sleeves during the ragging period. Wearing short-sleeves, I used to cover my hands in dupattas till could I get three new full sleeved suits.
I remembered how I used to get damn annoyed and then I became a senior the next year.
I was enjoying it now and felt stupid for my early behavior. I remembered my friends, Nilofer, Sakeena, Shaheen, Khaleda, and Farzana.
My room never looked as lovable as it was that day.
Phew, how the time flies.
My roommates came to say goodbye. She brought back my coffee mug sans its handle. I never knew how it landed up with her while her dupatta was with me. As I continued to rummage my belongings, I realized the huge amount of unwanted stuffs I had been hoarding. There were definitely many items I wanted to keep with me for those lovely memories. And the one I was sure to take was that Blue diary which still I have with me.
On the last day, we partied till six in the morning. I was crowned “Miss Lucky” at my farewell party.
I saw my saucepan which I had used to make coffee. It reminded me of the gossip sessions and the exam nights. The same saucepan was used to cook Maggi. Nilofer used to like it very much. I looked for Nilofer’s trunk and tagged it, ‘Nilofer Rehman Room No. 62, B.A. Final year’. I thought of giving her a surprise. After three long years together, I would not be there when she came back.
I went to Bittan bhai’s shop and purchased a cardboard box. I put all those things of mine which Nilofer used to take from me or liked. A suit which she would dress in after I had ironed it. “Naaz Badtamiz” (she still calls me with this name only), “this only looks good on me”. I packed it in a plastic bag with a note “It would always suit you.”
I kept an unstitched dressed which she liked very much, a few sunflower seeds, my favorite pen, a few music cassette, Perfumes, one new diary, our photos.
I titled all with “Gift from Badtameez Naaz to adorable Nilofer”.
Sakeena came to see me for lunch, as we were the only two left at the hostel due to extension of our exams. She was amused at what I was doing. She said, ‘you know Naaz, Nilofer will be very happy to see this and at the same time, sad, not to find you.
After two months, when Nilofer joined back the hostel, and opened the bag she called me in Mumbai, ‘Naaz Badtameez, you are my best friend and I really miss you’.
That evening I had to catch my train to Mumbai. I had to take Hostel vacating permission, which was considered a big trauma, but I was not feeling more terrible and sad to leave my friends.
Recapping, I would always love those wonderful and memorable days with my roommates and hostel mates. Their carefree and cheerful nature which transformed those gloomy and dark days into a joyous rainbow of colors. The variety and range of cuisines and culture of diverse Indian states. Those exciting days with never a dull moment. Raiding our friend’s rooms as soon as they would be back from a visit to their homes and being so happy that we hardly visited our local relatives.
I left all that back there which I loved and brought a little of it in that old Blue dairy, when I left my hostel... it is still a priceless possession for the memories it brings back...
Naaz Iraqui
Edited By : S. J. Zaheer
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