Connections And Reunions

All my life, I have had the experience of living in different cities, going to school in different cities, and making new friends. As time passed, either I relocated, or some friends did. We wrote letters, and we missed each other for a while and then, moved on with life.

As I grew older, I realized that there were so many memories, and so many people left behind. Some connections still existing, but passively. Some connections dissolved by the trick of time. I wanted all those memories to come back to me, and I wanted all those people to be a part of my life again. Those people with whom I probably went to elementary school with, played duck-duck-goose with, fought over food with, watched Scooby Doo every night at 8 pm with, talked about Enid Blyton's and Roald Dahl's books, played house with, cheated in class dictations with, twittered about like pixies with, laughed at the lamest of jokes with, played on the monkey bars and the slides with... Oh! The list just seems to go on.

I realized that no matter how naive I was, those days were still beautiful. They were beautiful, because we were all still unaware of what life would be like ahead. And that innocence was the best part of the friendship I shared with them.

Thanks to the advancing technology and the boon (or distraction) of social networking sites like Facebook, I set out to search for those friends, who at that time meant a lot to me. Because, they brought a smile to my face, they shared their lunches, they enjoyed the same cartoons, and read the same books. And of course, the gossips of how someone was being a bully, or how someone had been mean and hurtful.

And, I am thankful to my good memory, that I remembered the names and the last-names of all those I was hoping to reconnect with. And, I did get in touch with every single person who was an important person in my life, in the various cities I've lied in.

In December 2009, I met with four of my old classmates,after almost eight years, who I'd studied with when I was six till I was eight. Last December, I reunited with an old neighbor of mine. We lived opposite each other for just about a year, and knew each other for just exactly that long. When we met, we met after twelve years.

During both these reunions, I wondered how they looked (Facebook images are not always the best), how tall they'd grown, how different they were, and whether, I'd still be as happy to meet them now, as I was then. I had all sorts of apprehensions in my head, but when I met them all, all those worries ran away.

It was wonderful. I didn't want to leave them. Sure, they had changed. Well, of course, I did too. We were all grown up, and mature. But the most commendable thing was that even after all these years, we greeted each other with so much excitement and zest. We were really looking forward to seeing each other, and we were genuinely elated to. I could feel it in the embraces we exchanged, and in the smiles, that never left our faces.

Sure, for me, the connections had been revived, and the bonds had been reunited.

We still keep in touch, and we hope that the next meeting doesn't happen after eight or twelve years. And I can confidently say, that whenever that next meeting may be it will be as delightful, if not more.

Friends who Move Away

No more hearts,

No more memories

I don't fit into any pictures no more.

Of course,

You are not to blame,

It was ME who moved away.

Memories past,

Are held deep within

Newer ones

are Fewer made

Of course,

You are not to blame,

It was ME who moved away.

Phone calls, messages

Facebook, Skype

I guess all of us

Are through with that hype.

Of course,

You are not to blame,

It was ME who moved away.

Numerous trials

Hours, days and

Months of waiting,

Went all in vain...

Of course,

You are not to blame,

It was ME who moved away.

Tale Of Two Cities

Written on the 1st of August 2010, For 29th July 2010

I had been waiting for the day, when I would finish with my assessment, and fly back home, to my parents, my brother, my friends. I just wanted an end to all the sleepless nights, the tireless working hours, and the ton of work that I had. I really was waiting to bid goodbye to it all, and just be. Without anything to do, without any routine to follow, without any goals to be met.

And there I was all packed up, and ready to go.

I was delighted, overwhelmed with tears when I flung my arms around my mother. It felt so soothing, so comforting. I didn't want to move from there. I was so excited to be back to India, to be back to the place I call home. Time passed, day after day, and I was getting used to Mom's cooking, Mom's constant nagging to clean my room, sleeping in her lap; fighting with my Dad for fun, spending quality time with him, renting out movies; Brother's tantrums and then cajoling him, teaching him science and taking full advantage of chiding him; the pampering of the maids, always there at your beck and call for anything and everything; the driver to take me around wherever I needed/wanted to go; and my friends who begged I attended every party, who organized lunches for me, and all their warm hugs and letters.

I was actually doing nothing; just flicking the channels of the Television (which, I considered to be a great privilege). I couldn't motivate myself to paint, or draw, or exercise, or even read. Just somewhere between all the outings, and the rainy afternoons, and the lazy days with family, the holiday was ending.

In all this, I realized one thing. I only really understood what it meant to have all of this after I went away to college. No, I didn't take any of this for granted, but my respect and value of this just doubled and tripled. In all the fun I was having, I hadn't noticed how time had run it's race. It was time for me to go back.

For nearly three months, I was waking up at almost noon, where as, when I am at college, that's the time I sleep after having finished all my assignments. For nearly three months, I had been fed and made fat, with all food cooked with sugar, spice, love and everything nice. I gorged on my Mom's desserts. When at college, all I get is very limited vegetarian options, self-cooked food made on trial-and-error basis. For three months, my friends and I had been conversing on local rates, meeting almost everyday. But when I'm away, we resort to Facebook and MSN for conversations, and Skype, to have a glimpse of each other. For nearly three months, I was used to people around me. I was used to being dependent on them. But at College, I am always independent, knowing and setting my limits, willing to take on any thing that comes my way. I was unhappy to think about leaving India. I thought that the summer ended too soon. I thought that the dark, vicious clouds of the rain arrived too soon.

Yet, I was happy. Somewhere deep down there, I couldn't fool myself. I couldn't fool myself about the way I felt. I knew, I was looking forward to the new year, and the new friends I'd get to make, and all the explorations and experiences lined up for me. And at the same time, I couldn't smile in the pictures we took on my last day, and I couldn't watch my family bid me a safe journey back with all their best wishes. I ignored them calling out to me at the airport, and walked into its Air Conditioned confines with my trolley full of luggage.

And there I was all packed up, and ready to go.

For me, every four months shall see the change. Change in lifestyles, change in routine, change in activities. I shall always be stuck in the Tale Of Two Cities. I shall always be bound by the love of and for the two cities.

Image Courtesy: Drishti Kulshreshtha, Radhika Gupta

Familiarity

It was a welcoming evening. An evening she had been waiting for. This was one of the few chances that people get to revisit their good old days. She was hoping to meet those, who once upon a time she used to see almost every day for three years in a row. She was excited.

She soon walked into a familiar enclosure with the others in tow. She looked around to see some more familiarity. Not just in the faces, but in the walls, with the peeling cream and beige paint. In the set of staircases, which once had her, and all others present there rushing up and down; to and from; and in between classes. In the curtains, which were changed exactly once a year. In the iron rod railings, with rusted edges. In the red-carpeted little narrow stage, on which lay the rickety choir steps which witnessed a fresh lot of singers each year. Amongst all those voices, she also stood one among the many sopranos. But, all these imperfections didn’t seem to bother her. Instead, today, they gave her a sense of homeliness, a sense of complete perfection. She looked around again and again moving in circles, to take in the sight she had been longing to see. It was after a year, she felt this way. It was after a year she was visiting. It was after a year that the school made her feel what she felt. Her alma mater.

She had been in this little four-storeyed building for merely three years, but it had been enough to give her genuine happiness. It had given her values which she knew she’d always keep. It had given her courage to fight for herself. It had given her true friends, who she knew would stay. It had given her sense and sensibility. It had given her the faith to believe in herself. It had given her the strength to conquer, and to lead. It had given her too much to express. As she recollected her first few days and the last few days in the school, she felt tears well up in her eyes.

Just then one of her juniors came up to her and asked her for some photographs with some friends. Although she fought her tears from flowing and disrupting the photo-session, the smile she smiled was genuine. A kind of smile she smiled after a long time.

She wasn’t really fond of crowds, but the crowd consisting of her batch-mates, her juniors and her seniors comforted her. Even the presence of those-who-had-once-been-friends-but-weren’t-anymore didn’t disturb her. She felt nice about everything there. She interacted with her teachers, who seemed equally happy to meet her. She spoke to them with enthusiasm; obliged some more photo-taking sessions; moved about from one group to another interacting animatedly with a different set of friends and acquaintances each time. She giggled with tears of joy incessantly flowing out of her mascara-smeared dark brown eyes, as she and her friends recalled the lovely times they’d spent there. She was overwhelmed with emotion, and felt herself beaming with a calming sense of happiness. She was all smiles that evening. She was back to Familiarity, and back to School.