We’d meant to drink tea together in the morning, but my friend was pressed for time. He dressed and left, and I took my time getting ready. My train was in the afternoon, so I had plenty of time to do absolutely nothing. There was a pleasant wind up, and it was a nice day. My laptop decided to work, since it now had no reason to, and I sat on a bed watching films. I realised that I hadn’t been myself for the last few days. In order to do something, I’d forced myself into a rigorous routine that also wouldn’t let me do the things I like. However, on that note, we should remember that sometimes a sacrifice like that is worth it for the people who make it, when they know what they want. The MUN was certainly worth it.
My friend came back and did laundry, pausing briefly to watch Superbad with me for a few minutes. My ride to the station was already booked, and we walked out for lunch together. The first place we went to was closed but then he took me to a modest eatery where we had South Indian food, and then to one of those ice cream parlours where they make ice cream with natural ingredients. They let you taste flavours before you buy, and it was delicious. It actually melted into water as we walked back.
It wasn’t for long, but this brief stay was good – relaxing, enjoyable, and no pressure involved. I said goodbye as the car started later that day for the station. It didn’t take as long as the previous night to get there; the driver got my suitcase out of the trunk, and I said, ‘Thank you, bhaiya,’ congratulating myself for my Hindi skills.
The train was already there when I got to the platform, but boarding didn’t begin for a while. I had the upper bunk again, and the journey was what you’d expect. When we were pulling into Howrah Station the next day, I couldn’t stop telling one of my co-passengers how the wait was killing me. The train had stopped just outside the station, as is due process, I think, and being this close but far away was unbearable.
Baba was waiting for me. I hugged him and we went to the car – our car – and drove back home. Baba, as always, couldn’t stop telling me which landmark was which and what road lead where, but this time, I didn’t object. Oh, and he’d brought a Monginis burger.
When I got home, I made a blog post that you’ve probably read.