You might be a mere collection of buildings, bricks, and concrete for most of the people out there but not for me. you are a living memory capable of stirring the strongest nostalgia waves in me. that's what you are for me.
I still remember the first day Abba took me to you, back in 2004. As we turned the corner and your mighty gate became visible, I felt the lump in my throat. I wanted to go back home.
12 years later at home.
I wanted to go back to you.
You gave me everything from self-confidence to love to heartbreak to life long lessons. you gave me my identity. you turned me into whatever I am today. good or bad; I'm yours.
Remember when I used to forget every worry after I entered you. how you embraced me. you were my haven. home away from home, long before I took refuge in books written by strangers. but you were no stranger. you knew me so well as I knew you.
you witnessed my transformation into a strong teenager from a fragile dumb four years old.
I remember when Amma used to walk me to school and it took the entire 10 minutes walk; for me to recite Ayat Ul Kursi, as I recited after Amma slowly, stuttering on the difficult words.
The teachers you gave me, who not only taught their respective subjects but taught life too, who's advice are still helpful in university, amongst the sea of strange young people like me.
I remember that bench in the playground by the corner under the window of biology lab, where I fell and hurt my knee so bad that I couldn't walk properly for a week, one of the scars you gave me while I played on your grounds.
I still remember standing by the blue board; indicating where the nursery building was. (it's green now; telling where the college section is) the place where I fell in love.
The water coolers by the main gate, the place I was harassed at for the first time. probably I didn't even know the meaning of harassment back then.
The auditorium where I won declamation contests and hosted inter-school competitions.
The classroom where I met the people who stayed with me for more than 15 years through good and bad days alike and are still there for me.
The wood log stranded at the corner of the boys' ground, where I sat with a friend waiting for others to come because we both came too early.
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After switching 3 houses between 2 cities over the course of the last 6 years, and the addition of hostel to the list last year, my definition of 'home' has really been distorted and I realized there is no place I could call home more wholeheartedly than you.
Thank you.
You will always be a part of me. A living vivid part, running in my veins, stitched with my flesh, absorbed in my bones. You will always be capable of making me smile on my bad days.
Regards,
Forever a Sirsyedian.
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