Memories

Can a title be more trite than this?

On impulse, I called my juniors today: spoke to An, Sw and Pa. I wanted to know about college: about what second year is like is for them, about teachers, the elections, the fest, the IDG and how they're handling it all. It felt like I was there, in my room, the one with the big window and the blue-green curtains, sipping coffee, listening and giving gyan. I swear I was there: I can hear my footsteps as I walk to the coffee vending machine, I read the room numbers as I pass each one of them, I can hear the muffled voices from each room, I can taste the coffee, I can feel the warmth of the blanket as I curl up against the Delhi cold, I can see An's face, see Sw's expressions as they listen to what I'm saying.. I miss mothering them all. I'm worried about Sw. I can hear the doubt, the worry, the pain in her voice, although its been months since I last spoke to her. I relive my early college days. :) Feels like I'm looking at what I was some time back. And though she can still tell me what's bothering her, and though I give oodles of advice, I still feel helpless. I know that I can't do too much. Pa says that she misses us being there: it was nice having bunch of seniors to look out for them, she says. I miss being around for you guys too. But it was good speaking to you. I should do it more often.