Moving On

It was on a March morning similar to this one that a classmate said something that I have, since, given more than occasional thought to. We were both standing outside the cafe, where we had bumped into each other at a late breakfast. With the Univs less than three weeks away, we had ended up talking mostly about this chapter and that reading. But on our way out, I stopped under the Dhaba tree, mesmerised, for the millionth time, by the sight of the Cross against a clear, blue sky. So perfect, it seemed unreal.

"You're going to miss College, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes. Yes, I will." I replied, still overwhelmed by the enormity of the simple fact that I was about to end three years in three weeks.

"I will, too. But I'm glad I'm leaving now", he said, and I turned to look at him.

"You know it's time to leave when people and things that you have always liked begin to annoy you just a wee bit, don't you think?" he said, frowning absent-mindedly as he leafed through his notes, checking for a CED tute. Then he looked up. "Even for College, which I love so much. Especially for College, which I love so much."

We were friends, but not exactly bosom buddies. It was more a cordial acquaintance, a natural result of studying in the same class, living on the same campus and running into each other in the Dining Hall every now and then. Inevitably, we fell out of touch as we moved on and got busy with our lives over the years that ensued. But the closer I get to each finish, and the more I think of his words, the truer they seem to echo.

I'm at the end of several phases at once. I may not have loved every bit of it as much as I loved College, but I'm glad all this happened, I'm glad I learnt so much. But I'm also glad I'm leaving now.