I look at my watch. It is nearing nine. At ten I need to be at Ulloor junction. I can’t miss out on it. It is one of the ways by which I can probably meet someone.

I want to go inside the college. I want to enter it and relive all the moments that have defined my adolescence. But I don’t know. There is a small hesitation to go in. I don't want to go into the situation I am in. I would have probably loved to be with my class or batchmate or anyone who associates with this college. It would have been fun that way. There is an inherent connection between two college people even if they are not from the same batch. There is an unknown force that binds us all. We might be separated by decades and yet there will be some link tying us together.

I imagine how this college would have been in the starting. When I meet someone who had studied here long ago, I am filled with excitement to know how college was for them. I want to hear their perspective. I want to hear their stories. I want to know whether the new mechanical block was built back then. I want to know how the students were back then, and how the hostels were being operated. I want to know stuff so I can probably go back to those times in my dreams. I want to visualize it and maybe live it through my dreams.

One of my cousins is our alma mater. He passed out in 2004. I was in my eighth standard back then. When I met him after joining college, he told me about his experiences. He was more specific about the kind of ragging he was subjected to by his seniors. He wanted to know if the same stuff was being continued. His experiences were far worse than what I had. I told him things have become way better than that. It is much better. Although ragging was present, it was okay. It was not the kind he had to go through. Now when I look back at it, it was a good kind of ragging. We did feel it to be hard back then, but I guess it was okay.

I hope the situation has become better by now. I am not pro about it. I mean I know that a good and healthy one will always be enjoyed. Everything in its right way can be enjoyed. It is only when it is taken to its extremes that they become degrading and affects the individual.

Some say ragging prepares you for the life ahead. I want to ask them how. I want to ask them if they are aware of the kind of mental anguish the person goes through when they are being ragged. How can one know about a person's mental background? It is not possible. Someone who is mentally strong might be able to take it. But what about a weak one? How will he take it? How will it impact him?

Ragging is banned in colleges. Yet it takes place incognito. It cannot be avoided. But we can all try to make it fun and enjoyable. Just because we got it hard doesn’t mean we need to pass it to our juniors with the same intensity or maybe more. We can decide to cut it out. We can stop it if we want to. But then there are a lot of people who will not think in this manner. So this will continue in various forms.

Once again I find myself thinking about things in the future. I guess the gravity of the situation I find myself in hasn’t registered in my head yet. I am thinking of a future where everything is normal. It is far from that. The truth is the future can be anything. Ask me two days back what I would be doing this day, I am sure there wouldn’t be anything of this sort in it, even anything remotely close. The future is unknowable. Anything can happen anytime. It only requires a fraction of a second.

I say this because now the creepy emptiness that surrounds me has got the better of me. I am falling for it. This is not like the empty college front I witnessed during some of the hartal days back then. That emptiness still had a lot of things going on. Some two-wheelers would pass through the road. A security guard would be present near the gate. Maybe a car or two would pass by. One might even meet some of their colleagues. If not he would have spotted someone or the other roaming around the premises. People would also be present. The college front would never be so empty. Ever. And here I am.

I look at my watch again. It is showing me the same time I think. I forgot what it was.

What is happening to me? What is it that I am feeling now? Where are the words I need to describe them? Can I even describe them?

I want to go back home. I want to be back home. That is all I feel now.

I look at the entrance once again and start walking back to my scooter. It seems my steps are full of purpose cause I reach the scooter quickly. Whatever the feeling is that has taken over me is telling me to go back to the comfort of my home. Once this college was my comfort. In it, I found the people who made it comfortable. Today it is not so. People are an integral part of my life. But I don't have them with me. They too have been swiped away, leaving me behind to undergo this feeling. I really can't say what this feeling is. I am trying to figure it out, but it is eluding me. Is this depression? Is this what it is? I don't know. And I don't have anyone to ask or talk to.

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I start my scooter and make the u-turn. As I leave the college premises, a thought strikes me. I apply the brakes and come to a screeching halt. I stopped right in front of a stationary shop. It is closed. But I can see a way to put the thought into action.

I park my scooter where I come to a halt, get out of it, and walk towards the stationary shop. The wall marking the end of the shop is stacked with posters of an upcoming tech fest of another engineering college in the city. I tear out the one that comes to my hand. It rips off haphazardly. I stop what I am doing. I look at the remaining ones and see which of them are not pasted firmly. The top one fits the bill. Only the edges are pasted well. The middle area is puffed. I carefully pull at it from the lower corner. It tears off for a bit in the beginning but after that, I am able to peel it off without much trouble. Once I have peeled off a satisfactory amount of it, I pull at it one go. The poster rips off from the top. The back portion is white and empty. I have one of the things that I need.

I need something to write now. Out of intuition I go back to my scooter, open the seat and look for a pen inside it. I find nothing. I close the seat.

I search the ground for anything I can write with. If I am hoping to find a half-used pen or pencil, then it was the right place to look - in front of a stationary shop. But I don't. If there was a dustbin near it, I would have checked it. A used marker would be the best thing.

I widen my search. I start looking for a red-colored stone. It is powdery in nature and is sometimes used to write on walls. I used it in my childhood. I walk slowly keeping my eyes on the ground. I spot a couple of them near the edge of the next building. I pick them up.

I flatten out the torn poster onto the wall of the building. I take the stone and draw a line on top of it. It marks the white paper with a reddish hue. It is not much but I guess it will do for the time being. I need to always keep a marker handy. They will be of great use.

I mentally prepare the message and how it must go about in the area that I have with me. Then I scribble it out in the largest possible manner ensuring that it sits well within the page and is visible. This is what the message is:

U R NOT ALONE. COME TO ULLOOR AT 10 AM.

This is inspired by what Will Smith did in the movie. I have fixed Ulloor as the spot I will be in at ten in the morning. I need to stick to it without fail. I will. I have no other choice.

This also puts me in the tight spot of not being able to leave the city in and around this time. If I plan to go to my hometown to check on my parents, I will need to do it in the twenty-four-hour gap I have between two successive meetings.

The best place to hang this message would have been on the golden plaque. It stands tall and has a commanding presence. But it is not possible to hang this on the top where it would be visible the most. Instead, the only place that has a similar commanding appearance and is possible to be hanged is on the name board in front of the college. I walk towards it. I don't have previous big strides in my steps. I am looking at the message that I have written. I wanted the letters to be a bit bold. But the stone was pointed. I did rewrite on them a couple of times to make them a bit bold. This will do for the time being.

I reach the center of the name board. I hang my message bang in the middle of it, covering the letter ‘E’ of engineering.

The poster is small. I knew it the moment I tore it off the wall. But I think it is enough to catch anyone's attention. I hope it does.

I take backward steps, away from it. Within a few steps, the message on it is barely visible. I have a couple of stones in my hand. I am thinking of darkening the letters once again. I decide not to. It might tear away the paper. I let it be. The white paper covering the name board should draw some attention. Anybody who finds themselves in this situation and is looking out to find someone else must be on the lookout for out-of-ordinary things.

This is what I do when I am on the lookout. I look for something off, something that is out of place and is calling for my attention. So far I haven’t seen anything of that sort. I want to see one. It would be a joyous moment. At the same time, I need to be putting out markers. I need to put out these breadcrumbs for anyone to follow and come to me. Just as I am waiting for a bread trail, a survivor might be. I have to think of this possibility also. I need to make my presence felt.

I have been dependent on my walkie-talkie to reach out. This is not the best form. It is versatile though and has reached. But it is not a practical one. I need to do more groundwork. I need to be putting out posters and messages at every important junction in the city. I need to make sure they are visible and legible easily. I will have to make big posters. Not like the one I made just now. Big and legible ones. I need to gather my resources for that. For stationary, I might have to come back here. There are plenty of shops here that will have all the materials I need.

I look at the message once more as I walk back to my scooter. I am not hoping for anything. This is a small step. From here, I need to make it bigger and larger, make it reach out to every nook and corner of this world. I need to find a way to achieve this. It might take time but that is okay. I have time. Time is all I have.