walk-in-walk-out

My winter internship concludes today.I might never come back to this office again, never use this keyboard with the unsteady grip key, or stare outside these dusty bay windows after an elusive thought, or dip into these sights, sounds, smells, people who are constantly trying to infuse madness into method.Watch hours of raw footage and talk sequence into the mindless jabberings of celebs and pseudo-celebs.

Yet, the feeling is neutral. No sense of an ending or a subsequent beginning. A comfortable detachment. Like walking around the rooms of an abandoned house all night because a rain-storm wouldn't let leave and as the day dawns, tie your scarf and walk out.

Yet I feel an awekening. A charged soul and charred lungs too. Will miss the electricity everytime India lost a wicket or the claps when Daya Nayak walked behind bars. The screaming idealsim of the boss. The excitement, the energy, the enthusiasm. The nights and days spent perfecting the scripts and patching the shots. The lil call, 'Hey! lets catch a smoke and talk of whats wrong and right with the nation...'

The muse has left the building. Yet there is no sense of loss, but of hope to return to the fortress again. This time as a conquered victor, a warrior who braved it all. Wondering if Im the branded journalist yet!!!