Is This The Last I'll See Of You?

By Ritu Koppad

I saw you in the warden’s cabin as we got assigned the same rooms in freshmen year. A look over we had at each other to gauge if we would mesh well? Or must I scheme an ouster for you. Wishing that would be last I will see of you if things took the case of latter. Two new freshies in an engineering hostel at odds. It started with your loud alarms which you slept through to my nit-picks – a classic your space and my space.

From your contagious obnoxious laughter to my rants. Through my dislike for dancing to your random outbursts of dancing between study nights we took a step towards low attendance, from sour looks to inside jokes when caught by warden or a catch on handsome senior we curated our own language. As we levelled up to the “seniority” of second year we knew whom, how and when to fool. As we moved to different groups in our respective departments, I wondered “Is this the last I’ll see of you?” Meh, we used our tricks to land the same room AGAIN!!

Through a new year of professional bunking and pranking, through frequent dinners at the pani puri wala, we hatched that our lives have become complicated by our own doing and simplified only by our company. We have had moments of utter disgust for this degree to praying it never ends after returning from home which we have outgrown. From being sick of each other to mothering each other as one fell sick, we learnt what sisterhood meant. As we got ready to pack our bags to vacate at the semester end, I again thought “Is this the last I’ll see of you?” Since friendships in college do not go last this long, we saw none so how would ours? Then again, who would adjust with your habit of sleeping in winters with fan at 5? Only me!!!

We were one heartbreak older each. Third year was a cake walk as seniors of department, the last benchers and professor’s punching bag. We broke records in our own way. Slept through first lectures. Encouraged each other for a drunk night out before a lab exam, an early morning ride to highway to boost our spirits for the classes lined up, funny how we believed we’d attend them, right? Yeah, not really, as we spent sleeping that off as well. We have lost sleep over alcohol, late night sneak outs and boys of course. Thought it was the end of the world to have had this experience, cussed out each other’s boyfriends for there guts to even act out. Eventually in strange way realised being tough comes easy as roomies. Be it boys or job placements, we dealt with them as not ours yet, even if not ours none to fret. As our clique grew our room became a make shift theatre, we took on the roles of makeup artists, in-house Michelin Maggi chefs, wander lust committee heads, to faking as mothers to fool warden, to help poor boyfriends celebrate birthdays just in return of cake, we operated as hostel hosts in our room. A true honour. As we had our transitioned to the end of 6th semester with a few strained friendships and wounded egos, realising the end was near I feared this time “Is this the last I’ll see of you?”. You said one last ride, final year let us make sure to take the biggest room to end on a high note.

Enter final year, a year that is an open secret where lecturers do not expect a full attendance class ever. A year where we reminisce on our old pictures together where baby fat and shedding teenage was evident. Now witnessing few aspirations for life ahead, to believing making the most of last, to making sure there were only yes to plans, to multi-tasking of landing jobs, project groups and never-ending college fests. Those crazy mess times where the staff would end up handing the key to us to lock it up after our antiques were over. We had developed a reputation of being the life of all and every party. A time where the reality of future shook us and yet we danced in its face. A time where we knew a call was enough to gather all the support in world. A time where we lost someone too soon to life and learnt through each other’s losses. A time when eating a whole plate biriyani and playing gully cricket was a no biggie. A time when a night talk being painfully vulnerable was an antidote to our frail minds. As we wrote our last exams, played in colours, attended our convocations, and bid each other the most silent goodbye as we held each other choking a sob back I almost believed “Is this the last I’ll see of you?” The golden days were dotted off.

As we ventured into professional lives, we kept each other in check through our timely calls and texts. Life went different ways. As worries and loneliness of dwindling work life caught on, often we wished we could swap our roommates, maybe work in same area, maybe figure this out. Life however switched up its speed at x3 rate when work seemed never ending, making new friends seemed a task, insecurities and anxiety tolled. Our any chance to empty ourselves word to word, day to day seems impossible. We get it. We get that all areas of life worked over time to make this “character development” happen. A tiring rat race. We did catch our breathes in between as we made time to meet for a drink and dance away our worries. As the dreaded worry marriage loomed over you, we hatched plans to buy some more time for your bachelor life, thinking its too soon. Lest I was proven wrong when you landed the guy on your first meet and in the mix of cocktail that was work, worry and whining, a new wisdom unlocked that marriage is happening to you. I did cry out of joy for someone whom you had created a world of safe space, a trust so solid that it stood through steely times, millions of memories and helped to grow into her own. I could only imagine what you could do for your companion at life. You were happy and nervous, the waves we felt as you broke the news. After a round of hugs and teary-eyed wishes, we all laughed away as you were our opener for the leg of matrimony. It only made sense that we make fun of that too. Through another year of courtship and your hand at love and family, the D-day seemed unreal, it attested our friendship of 6 years and to adore you as you were all decked up in bridal glow I looked back “Is this the last I’ll see of you?”

Through the years of womanhood, we have been seeing each other grow into families and individuals. Surprised we made it this far. Through careers taking new heights and proving the naysayers that were college professors wrong. To build a life of our own, things kept us busy. We texted, joined yoga, became aware of our age. To see each other own motherhood as it owned us. To brave through grave losses along the way, where we could only wish to comfort the way we did back in college. To just sit through those lows. To celebrate our small wins in life through skype. To laugh over our aches, gossip till our bellies hurt, to always confide. As we scold each other value health and yet munch on a tub of ice cream. As family stays and some move. As the memories blur. As time slows down. As we take an observer’s role. As we live on in each other’s spirit as we look at passing college students. As you now lay in this stony grave I long “Is this the last I’ll see of you?” Hope you save a bed for me, roomie. We have afterlife to conquer.

By Ritu Koppad