![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8t3tWjPuRsdzsXjKAejXwPHfGTeaKitB5UG7o1jXSFEI1WsmhN1-4Lfp9_dZ2R3H_pF8WOdcJ_ek0TgBvjFrlSR21js9MfG0KFs3dTSwfX3-izZJ6VwneRmdr9PmuW9Ri1Tih/s400/city.jpg)
(Pic from the internet)
May is a month with dates I don’t want to remember. But then, that’s the thing about the mind, isn’t it? You always remember what you don’t want to remember.
Six years ago to yesterday, May 15, I came into this city, wide-eyed with wonder at the lights and the lives. The city must have sniggered then at my naivety. More than half a decade on, the city has had the last laugh and my eyes hold a jaded look. I avert my eyes from the faces of strangers on the road, I look constantly over my shoulder. I learnt to not stand with my face up to welcome the first drops of rain; I had an auto to catch (and a fight to pick with the driver) before the last one passed me by.
There have been many things the city made me learn, relearn and unlearn. But still, I hope that I have remained who I was. At least in bits and jade coloured pieces.
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