Tears and Cheers

The oldest memory I have is of riding my blue bike through the halls of my house in Udaipur. Other memories from that age include ignorantly asking my parents to simply go to the ATM if they did not have money, and one time hiding under my bed because a big, tall, unnecessarily long white-bearded man was Ho-Ho-Ho (ing) loudly in my house.

However, the problem is that I'm not very sure if these truly are memories I remember or photographs I saw from my old albums. I don't know if the blue bike was a still image I made move since well obviously it has to move or do I remember it actually moving? Where am I going with this? Again, not so sure. But hang on tight I suppose?

This was what Kishor Da was talking about when he said Aane Wala Pal Jaane Wala Hai. At the threshold of turning my college life into the said memory, I'm what you would call absolutely distraught and running around like a headless chicken. 

Okay, I know I'm overthinking however I can't help but think about how
school has become a memory, something I relive only in occasional bursts when I meet up with old friends. Undergrad feels like it happened in another lifetime, yet there's this part of me that will always carry a piece of Stella Maris within. They say you can take the girl out of Stella Maris, but you can never take the Stella Maris out of the girl.

But what truly sends shivers down my spine is the thought that even my time at MCC might soon become just another memory, something I'll only reminisce about once in a blue moon. And as the years roll by, all these 22 years of my life will shrink into a mere segment of memory, with MCC just a blurry blob in the distance. Like what's 2 years in 22. and then what's 2 in say 50. 

All those times I loved, laughed, broke my heart, cried, forged friendships, and made memories, they will all be reduced to mere grains of Bob Dylan's sand in my mind. And honestly, I'm not sure if I'm ready for that. The idea that I don't have to wake up and get dressed for college, forget my ID card and run back to fetch it, drop my sister to school and race to college, attend class, (or not), sit by the Tanks or the Gutters or the Canteen to just talk for hours on end? And of course, MCC is alumnus-friendly in that that I can walk in later too but oh to walk the streets and not see your friends walk them with you, to not meet your acquaintances by the stone benches and share interdepartmental gossip? how sad a walk to think of even. today I walked through MCC with that mindfulness that none would be the same and the experiences and connections I've formed could one day fade into the background of my memory and that is both terrifying and heartbreaking.

My sister came back crying from school today - it was her last day as an 8th grader. and now what am I to tell her? Never before have I found myself jealous of a teenager. I want to cry because 8th grade is over, not because procrastination should officially stop now??!!

So yeah, as I write about memory, I can't help but feel a twinge of resentment. I want to hold onto these memories with all my might, to keep them alive in my heart forever. But deep down, I know it's a losing battle. Perhaps that's the nature of life – a constant cycle of building memories only to watch them gradually fade away. And maybe it's all so futile that I might look back at this moment 20 years later and think wow I made an event out of a chicken crossing the road. 

But but but today the feelings are feeling and my therapist, bless her soul, said to let the feelings feel. Therefore you have beared with the tremendously emotional Diya today. Congratulations, *pats your back*