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A Forgotten Bank Account, a Train Sprint, and Spicy Ghughra

 So, I did a thing. I went back to Surendranagar. Yeah, that Surendranagar. The one I lived in for two years, in a hostel, for school. It’s been over a decade since then, which is a truly disgusting realization because, excuse me, where is time going?

Last time I was there? Two years ago. Mission: Close my two ancient, long-forgotten bank accounts. Why did I have them? Oh, because back in my student days, they made us open accounts to receive scholarship money. I closed one that day, but the second one? The bank was like, “Yeah, come back in two days.” And I was like, “Haha, no.” Because making a special trip from Ahmedabad just to fill out paperwork? Not happening.

But then, fast forward to yesterday. I needed a break from the office, and my brain went, You know what sounds like a fantastic getaway? Wrapping up unfinished financial bureaucracy. Also, having an unused bank account floating around makes me nervous. Like, what if some guy at the bank is out there using my non-existent funds for something shady? What if my forgotten account is currently funding an international money-laundering operation? Or, I don’t know, being used to buy exotic reptiles on the dark web? Look, I might be overthinking it, but these things happen. And since I probably don’t even have the same phone number from back then, I wouldn’t know if something dodgy was going on.

So, I booked a train ticket. Now, I need you to understand something: I am never late. My personality is built around being early. If a flight is at 6 PM, I’m at the airport before lunch. And yet, somehow, for the first time ever, I cut it so close that I actually had to run. Like, full-speed Bollywood-style sprinting—except minus the romance and slow-motion effects. Just me, panicking, looking like I was being chased by the law. I did make it, though. Barely.

I always book a seat on trains because I have two travel-related fears:

  1. The constant need to pee. Buses don’t stop long enough, and I refuse to risk it.
  2. Motion sickness. It can hit me on both buses and trains, but at least trains have toilets. Damage control.

Anyway, I get to Surendranagar, and first things first—Spicy Ghughra. If you don’t know what that is, it’s a Gujarati snack that tastes like happiness and mild suffering because it burns your mouth but in a good way. The best ones, in my expert opinion, are found near Tanki Chowk. So obviously, I had to get some. Priorities.

Ghughra secured, I finally headed to the bank. Walked in, filled out some forms, and... boom. Account closed. Surprisingly quick. Almost suspiciously easy, if you ask me. Like, should I be worried? Whatever. Too late now.

And then, I took a bus back home.

The weirdest part? Surendranagar hasn’t changed. At all. It’s like someone hit pause on the entire town. Everything looks the same, feels the same—it’s a time capsule. Comforting? Weird? Both.

Maybe one day, I’ll do a whole nostalgia tour and visit all the schools I studied at. That would be... a lot.

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