An-EXIT

CHAPTER 5 (CREAKING SOUND)

AHAANA
 

It was a bright sunny morning, sun rays were shining against the airplane's window. We reached Mumbai. It all felt slow- like everything around us had become motionless. The college I aimed for, has finally turned into reality. And the best part is, that I'm not alone in this journey. My best friend, Arushi, is with me. But why does this feel so scary? Maybe this is a sign that I'm finally getting out of my comfort zone....

The flight was a bit early according to the timings mentioned, so Arushi and I took advantage of the situation. Before checking into our PG, we roamed around our university's campus area. It was extraordinarily huge, especially the library area. The university provides the best facilities that one can only imagine, but for me, everything felt like nothing in front of the library. The library was 10 times bigger than my garage. There was a narrow closed window structure along the ceiling from where sunlight entered inside the room. Two green lamp shades on each table with white fluorescent light. The library was more of a narrow rectangular structure, with an additional floor, covering half of the library's dimension. There were students in almost every corner of the library, except one table.

"Ahaana, stop staring at the ceiling fan!" Arushi interrupted.

"Are you crazy? This sound, this is all I wanted!" I pointed out the creaking sound of the fan and moved my head with respect to the sounds produced. Creek, 1 and 2, creeeeek.

Wait, did I forget to tell you about this 'weird craving' that I can't get rid off? No!

Around eight years back, when I was in primary school, I used to live with my grandparents in Lucknow. My parents were not that financially stable and keeping up with a child's requirements was not an easy task, which I totally agree with. But my approval to move to my grandparents house.......Willingly or unwillingly, it never mattered.

Days before I moved to Lucknow, I only had dreams about living with my grandparents. Honestly, none of them were a happy dream to start with. Staying under the same roof with them, sounded like a story of mission impossible, prioritizing silent talks and zero eye contacts.

I never knew that I could actually be proven wrong. And for a lifetime, I'm glad that I was proven wrong. Living with them was....warm. I loved their company. They treated me like I was their light, which shined brighter and brighter when I smiled. Their little happy pill.

The bungalow we lived in was a huge bonus. It was enormous and had a beautiful garden at the entrance. Most of the furniture around the house was exquisite. There were plenty of things, mostly huge and pretty heavy. And certainly, half of them were made out of wood. Due to the high rate of rainfall in our area, the wood which I adored the most had turned into something which I hated and just hated! The swollen wood.

I never liked the rainy season, it was always messy and sticky. My only plans for the rains would be to lock myself in a room with a book, and never come out.

But, surprisingly, Grandpa always liked it. He would sit on his rocking chair near the sliding glass door which linked his bedroom with the lawn. For him the weird sounds, and the smell of wet sand were absolute sources of joy. I mean, he used to love them! Seriously! Grandma in no circumstances ever tried to disturb him, instead, she used to feel happy by seeing his face glow up because of the rain.

One day, I gathered all my courage and walked up to Grandpa, who was as usual, sitting on his chair with a diary in his hand. He smiled his beautiful smile and made me sit on his lap. The room was dimly lit, warm and cozy. The sight of the raindrops sliding down the glass door and the shadow of the raindrops on the floor made it peacefully aesthetic.