When they told us about holding the whole semester online, we hoped a vaccine will be out by August. We hoped people will follow the precautions and maybe, just maybe we would be able to go back to our collective abode. When they told us about the whole year going online, we wished for 3 months. They kept throwing bombs at us and we kept compromising with our hopes. On our last phone call when you said “I just wish to spend one day at the balcony of our flat.”, I could literally feel my heart breaking. My voice broke and I teared up tad bit. Previously the uncertainty left some scope for hope and now that we are all certain there’s no going back, what can we do? I keep thinking about how beautiful it was to smoke in the balcony and play Khoj by WCMT in the background and rush to the washroom to take a dump because milk gave me constipation issues big time. I keep thinking about what is it about that flat that’s causing all these withdrawal symptoms? It can’t just be the view of the sea or our sessions near the window pane of the guest room. I delved a little deeper and I got my answer. It was us. You and me. And this is why even though the universe is screaming at me that there’s no way I am going to unlock 4211 again, I can’t stop hoping. I just can’t stop hoping for us to be together, goddamnit. Perhaps it was us fighting with the mice in your room or us having the Missisipi Mud Pie in the balcony, but if I could go back to even fight with you in that very place, I would. So, tell me, how do I stop hoping?
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