It Was.

When I think of school and the years gone by. There is a sense of detachment or actually, a forced sense of detachment. I have made myself forget, let go and move on as I did not have another way out.

It was a place witness to my life and lessons.
It was a friend and foe at once.
A lover all through.

It was those dark blue jeans which fitted in perfectly
The stereo which played the song
I was aching to hear.

It was a daily walk down memories
which were swept under the new ones
I would make that day and write about that night.

It was the friend who came to hold my hand
The teacher who taught me Integral Calculus.

It was the late night maggi
Midnight conversation where the darkness always had something to say.
 And I the silence to listen.

It was the two loaves of bread every week
and the five eggs per person.
The cold coffee which always came out perfect on a bad day or the night before a test.

It was the damball court shaded by trees
Whose branches I would ring and spread my arms
Serenading the falling petals.

It was the warm black sweater which went well with everything
The folk dance whose beats still play in some corner.
Shadowing the Manavu candle.

It was Music and Lyrics. Deception and Magic.
Assignments and Tests. Marks and Scars.
Bollywood and Blues.

It was the silence your steps matched and the trees swayed to.
Wherein for a few moments you could hear natures throbbing beat.

It was two friends.
Me and you.
Walking hand in hand with no words exchanged.

It was.

And will always be.