So, 18 months ago, when my parents dropped me at hostel with all my stuff and then left all of a sudden, I felt awkward. I thought how could I "stay" at a place where I didn't have my family 24*7. How could I not have "my bed", "my table", "my almirah" and "my bookshelf"? How could I not call "Mom, please give me food, no?" from my room? How could I not yell " Aman, can you increase the volume of your stupid movie further? Actually, it's audible to me but not our neighbors. " How could I not tell my daadi " Oh yeah! I thought you had said you weren't going to worry? " How could I not call my Papa at random times and say "Papa, gol gappe khilaoge?" And then, I roamed about our small campus with Rumjhum, sneaked into Priyam, Riya and Pallavi's room to see my roomies. When I complained about the bad food, worse whitewash on the walls and not so comfortable mattress, my closest people told me that I was going to miss hostel really bad. And I always said, until 5 days ago "Oh! Come on! I am going to miss my friends, but not hostel. Never!" I ran home 19 out first 24 days ( And yes, I kind of lied to do that ). I rushed home every Friday at 16:00:01 hrs or 18:30:01 hrs depending on when my class finished and then came back happy Sunday night. During those last 239 days, I never realized I talked and gossiped with these friends, I made their fun, had those very nice maggies with them, those nice coffees and yes, talked for an hour for every 5 mins of study, snatched chocolates, laughed for hours without reason and rambled for hours after planning a 15 mins of coffee. I never realized I love those moments, until when I spent one of those last few talk nights and had one of the last few maggies. I love these moments so deeply, almost as deeply as I hate being away from home.