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MICA

I am sitting alone in a big cold empty room, in a big empty hostel, in a big boring management school in Delhi. At times like this, I just can't help but feel longing to be back in MICA, right now. I had never felt this way for any place/person before. I had never missed something as much as I miss MICA right now. Its wierd. Its just an institute. But, having tasted the life of other schools, there's simply no comparison. There's something human about the place itself @ MICA. The place is companion by itself. MICA is our home.
Maybe, the realisation that we soon would be getting out of MICA is making me feel this way. Hopefully, when we leave, we would take away enough MICAnness (love it or hate it, its there! :P) within us to live MICAn for the rest of our lives.
MICAns are at the end of the day, a certain species. hate them or love them, having met them, can't live without them. I hope I have a bunch of 'em around me all the time. amen. MICAn. forever.

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Ctrl-tab
Ctrl-tab...
Scroll Scroll Scoll..
Alt-tab
Alt-tab...
Catch yourself slipping away.

Deep  breath. 

Close the browser. silence the mobile and turn it away.

Open an offline-real-paper diary. Stop your thighs from lolling impatiently. Stay still. 

Pick up a pen awkwardly. ahh, the fingers are stiff. It will take a  while for them to get used to holding a pen. Quick finger exercise - open the palm, stretch finger outwards, close into a fist, dig the fingers in. Repeat.
Ok now.. about to pick up the pen again, but eyes dart towards the screen. Tempted to check email.

Shut up. The last consequential email came two months ago. Nothing of consequence is online.

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