Already thinking about my room in Bangalore. Sky from the room window is a recurring dream these days. Smell of the empty corridor and the silence of the moonless nights. The days I slept and the nights I stayed awake comes back to me in pieces. The clarion call around 4 am, the birds just out of their nests in the grey morning sky. I can feel the wind that played with my hair while I sat at the basketball court writing my journal, all alone. How lovely it was to watch the trees that swayed in the backdrop of the setting sky. Walks to the Indian Coffee House and the little-big conversations with A (until he left), D and M. The laughter, the joy and the aimless stroll back to the room just in time for dinner. I dream of coming back, but I know that this time it’ll all be different.