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Room without the responsibility

I had run away from home. 

Though most of my brain had fled studies over half-a-decade ago, I had somehow made it to the tenth standard.

I had known for a long time that i did not want to study but i did not know what i wanted to do. That was a problem. Lazing around at home was not an option. That was a problem too! An alternate plan was important for the parents. I had none. 

Three days before my preliminary exams I waltzed off to Pune. With a neighbour, two years my elder. With at least 12 other friends, with a 15-year age-gap, within shouting distance of the front window at home. Without telling the parents about Pune. Without telling the friends about parents.

Both sets of people — the ones i had fled and the ones i was with — found out on the third day. I do not remember if I called home before or after they found out. I returned home by the Shatabdi — in full comfort.

Home, for me, was the hotel. The place I never informed about the times I kept and always had the keys to. The room without the responsibility.

I may have failed that maths exam.
I had, almost surely, failed my parents.
I do not know whether i failed myself.


Published by appamprawns

soni writes about children and people in controlled spaces, in his quest for appam stew. homi writes in the hope of being able to buy prawns to make patiyo.

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