Every moment in our lives can be seen as an engine of a whole story. Yesterday, while I was walking back to my room after having filled water, I saw from the window a man going out with his luggage. Probably for the last time from that building. (Last time, because a first or a second year wouldn’t stop midway and take a photograph of the building  as remembrance. It’s probably fourth year.) The same building where he stayed for 4 years all in order to do engineering. The same building where he had booze for the first time after being forced to drink by his well mannered friends. The same building where he saw both sides of ragging. So much he had learnt through hostel life.

All through the years, he waited for the moment when he will be out of it. But now, when it was here, he realised how glad he was that he went through those tough days in the sun. He entered nervous, exited celebrating. Looking at him, I could feel what he could be going through. He was taking a picture of his block, with anticipation that it will evoke a strong emotion in him when he looks back at it after many years. The stories will start rushing back.

This is why I realise, when this time I will buy a phone, it will have a good camera in it.