NOSTALGIC SUNDAYS

By Mishthi [ second year,journalism department ]

Designed and edited by mehak koundal [ B.com program,first year ]

Sundays meant running late but pretending we were early. Laughing all the way to our teacher’s house for extra English classes — shoes scuffed, bags half-zipped, gossip spilling faster than we could walk. Someone always tripped on the steps, someone stole the best pencil, and someone argued about who got to sit near the window. Lessons happened, sort of — but mostly we were distracted by the smell of chai brewing in the kitchen, by the way sunlight hit the corners, by the little stories our teacher told that had nothing to do with the syllabus. And then — escape. The freedom after class hit like a burst of wind. Off we went, weaving through streets, deciding on cafés like it was the most serious choice of our lives. Hot chocolate that burned our tongues, fries that left our fingers oily, pastries stolen from each other’s plates with dramatic gasps. We laughed until the tables shook, until someone nearly spilled their drink, until a stranger smiled at how loud we were and we felt like queens of the street. Sometimes we’d linger outside cafés, just staring at the sky — planning nothing, imagining everything. Someone would randomly start singing a song, another would add a line, another would mime it, and somehow it became my whole world. Wind in our hair, sun on our shoulders, friends pressed close, the city blurred around us — everything felt soft and infinite as we rode our bicycles. And when the day ended, it ended quietly. No one wanted to admit Monday was coming. Bags were zipped, shoes kicked off at home, and the streets emptied as if they’d been holding their breath for our chaos. The memory of it all — the lessons, the cafés, the endless laughter — still stays tucked under my skin. Nostalgic Sundays weren’t tidy. They were hot chocolate–sticky, sun-drenched, laughter-sore, and messy in the way only school days can be. And maybe that’s why, even now, thinking about them feels like the world slowed just for us — just for a little while.

“Nostalgia is the heart’s way of reminding you of something you once loved. It travels in many forms — in a song, in a scent, or in photographs… but no matter how it comes to you, it will always have the same bittersweet taste.”

— Ranata Suzuki