Four of us sat on a secluded lawn engulfed in the last golden rays of the day. Our two years at IIMA had passed us by. Now, face to face with the end of our student lives, we were in a rather contemplative mood. The discussion revolved around what we were going to miss about the campus, stories of love and hate, the transient nature of our existence… you know, the works.
As the sky adopted increasing shades of scarlet, I found myself enamored by the beauty of our surroundings. We stopped talking for a while. Around us, the birds chirped incessantly, the squirrels scampered about — down a trunk, across the grass, up another. The leaves fluttered in the breeze.
We watched the sun sink and disappear behind the treeline leaving a mess of crimson and impending darkness. And suddenly, everything came to a silent standstill, as if following the sun’s cue with utmost obedience.
Nature tends to sync up in beautiful ways. It’s poetic. We had witnessed the final burst of activities of the day — like the crescendo of an orchestra just before the ending. The air now hung thick with the anticipation of an applause that would never come. I saw goosebumps on someone’s arm. Streetlights bloomed and the silhouettes of bats began circling above; life had resumed in its nocturnal form.
It was time to leave.
[Picture credits: Anonymous alumnus]