Tick tock, goes the clock....

Just 10 days to go before I leave and the finality of my departure is finally beginning to dawn on me. There was a sense of excitement and eagerness that accompanied the shopping; an anxiety that one should be adequately prepared and should have everything that could conceivably be needed when one reaches one’s destination.

But now that the shopping’s over and it’s time to start filling in the bags, a strange sense of despondency is setting in. It isn’t as if this is the first time I am going away from the family, although the last time that I did, it was just for a fortnight, and with a certain date of return in mind. Maybe the uncertainty of when I would get to return (surely after the two years of the program, or maximum after three years) is getting to me; maybe it’s me doubting my ability to stay alone for two years, having never done anything of this magnitude before in all my 24 years.

Somehow looking at the shopping and thinking that, excluding a few minor additions here and there, this are going to be all my worldly possessions for the next two years is slightly unnerving. That I won't be able to argue or fight with my brother the way I do now would be comforting for my parents, but somewhere deep down all that squabbling was part of our affection for each other, and I am surely going to miss that. I will miss my breakfast time chats with my parents over myriad topics while we would read the newspapers, my tea getting cold and their scolding me for never drinking tea as it should be drunk, hot. Whatever it is, it’s weighing me down.

Somehow it feels so unreal that after 10 days, I will have to do everything on my own; perhaps more than anything, it’s the cooking which is terrifying me, considering I have NEVER cooked a decent meal in my life, save maybe omelets, scrambled eggs, and the occasional half-fry. Maggi doesn’t count as cooking, and well, tea and coffee is something you just know, so it also doesn’t count. But mother’s tips and recipes and the good old Internet should hopefully see me through. La mamma is packing in so many condiments, prepared masalas, ready to cook dishes and utensils that someone might think I am going to cook for an entire regiment at Williamsburg; but in frankness, it would be nice to once in a while cook a nice Indian meal to remember the pleasures of home and the taste of mummy’s cooking. You can't get it all, but a simulacrum is better than nothing at all.

In all this, let it not be said that I am not looking forward to going; au contraire, I am most eager for the opportunity; to quote the parents, this should teach me responsibility. There will be many who are in the same condition as me; we will all stumble a little, but we will all be there to help each other overcome the teething troubles smoothly. So here’s to life at Williamsburg and to the next two years at the College of William & Mary.