"Sir, kahaan ka drop hai?"

"Telecom Nagar?"

"Balapur."

"Ok sir."

The driver turns the key and we move out of the car park.

"Songs nahi hai bhaiya?"

He tunes into some FM station. I try to ignore. I'm lucky that the other two in the cab didn't demand the a/c to be put on. I roll down the window and let the cool air hit my face.

The weather is brilliant. The smell of wet earth is lingering in the air. It's a pity that I saw the rain only from behind a glass wall.

It is at times like these that I miss IIIT most. I miss the long walk which I could've gone for. I miss the toads that I would have to dodge on the street. I miss the sound of leaves, wet and fresh after the rain, rubbing against each other. I miss the sweet fragrance of Raat-ki-raani which would come floating and persuade me to not turn back before reaching its source. I miss the empty, wet streets where I could hear nothing but the sound of my flip-flops. I miss the silence that would help me put my worries on hold. I miss the cover of anonymity provided by the dark shadows. I miss the coffee that I could sip on my way back to the hostel. I miss being able to just stand in the corridor outside my room and stare at the trees, their branches swaying in the wind, for hours together. I miss being able to stay up all night, either reading or listening to the sound of rain.