Another ACJ memory...

I never imagined clearing out a locker would be so painful. 113. On the first floor. Situated right behind the door. I have actually forgotten the number of times I have felt the door banging against me, or to be more accurate, my posterior, as i have crouched down to get stuff out of my locker. A small home. A compartment to hold a tiny part of my life in, a mere ten months of existence. I never knew I had put in so much of stuff inside. Old papers, assignments, folders and files, notes from the first lecture, solved and unsolved crosswords, papers scribbled with graffiti and doodles, funny sketches, MJ's list of editing symbols - all of it tumbled out in a great heap, along with a few odds and ends (like my white dupatta that I presumed I had lost, an old water bottle, and my pink pencil box!)

I shall never see my locker again. It is strange, and funny at the same time, how sometimes we get attached to the most trivial and inconsequential things in our lives. 113 formed a very big part of these ten months. Enter ACJ. Surf the television, hoping for some sports on air, climb up the stairs, enter the first floor gallery. Fish out the keys from my pocket filled with coins and chewing gum and old bus tickets. Bend down carefully so as not to get kicked by the door being opened or pushed roughly by someone on the outside. Look inside for registers that would be needed for the lecture. Put in some random stuff. Come back after the key issues lecture and shove in the fat brown diary. Feel happy at being done for the day. Also feel delighted because the bag felt nice and light, without being filled with books and papers.

And now that locker shall be missed. I will be gone. And some one else will use it the next year. But no! It is a different campus the next time. So my locker shall remain dusty and locked. Never to be opened again. Never to be used to stow valuable and meaningless things in it again. Goodbye 113! :')