Its a strange ethereal feeling meeting old acquaintances and friends. Long periods of being incommunicado followed by a meeting, one never really knows what to expect. People change day to day- and over a period of three years we have changed, a lot. Sort of reminds me of the short story 'After Twenty Years'
Yet there's always a feeling of familiarity, a sense of great affection that cannot be expressed in words. Genuine laughter knowing nods in scams undertaken together- a long long time ago.
And the experiences come back in a rush- like a dam that burst open. And that familiar feeling of being partners in crime returns. Eyes never Lie. The same streak of hair that runs across her face, the sharp laughter that makes the world a little less unbearable and voice that can calm calm me down from murderous rage to carefree laughter in minutes. The same look of wonder and terror.
We hanker for change in our life, everyday, fight for it, sometimes die for it, and yet it seems we all want things to remain the same. Back to the same bumbling 18 year old, who got all tongue-tied in the presence of a rather charming girl.
Life encompasses within it a very deep and profound madness. I guess meeting old friends gives us some sort of a respite from our own little insanities of living everyday. A similar feeling to drinking very old wine. Initial exhilarating that transcends into serenity followed by moments of untarnished beauty. Towards the end, all that remains is a warm glow that radiates from within, knowing that fulfillment is the easiest thing in the world.
Three Years ago, we said our goodbyes only to meet three years later. Lives have diverged but our way of living hasn't. Because of technological changes we keep in touch even though we're separated by oceans, but fulfillment is never reached... The void of emptiness that cannot be fulfilled by keeping in touch alone.
And it remained so through large internet chat discussions, favors and video's exchanged, and messages passed on, and news shared. It was not even fulfilled when I heard she'd landed in Bangalore. Bangalore or Texas, it never really changed. Local Calls and ISD Calls have the same dull sense of being impersonal and metallic.
... Until I saw her across Brigade Road waving to me. Thats when memories came back flying through the night sky- Memories of classes attended and classes bunked. Memories of the unbridled fear in her eyes because of the dog pound. Memories of endless cups of coffee and being curious because of intellectual chatter of the monkeys near the electrical department. Memories of circular reasoning that would drive a certified psychologist to insanity.
That was the distance between Texas and Bangalore for me. the time and distance it took for me to cross the road. A place where our conversations stopped being 'telecommunication' and started being personal. I guess, because of our busy lives and the horrible traffic it took us three years to cross the road.
A happy thought for me to remember that the first Happy memory of the year was gifted to me by two incredibly warm people who who remembered me when they didn't have to. They chose to celebrate joy of togetherness on a cold dry winter evening, instead of curling up in their homes with family.
