Then and Now

“Crazy times they never come back
But the memories live forever”

When I wrote these lyrics about a year ago, I did not understand their meaning. Not completely. It was only in anticipation, a fearful waiting for whatever lay ahead in the still cloudy future.

Now before I go on to becoming my usual brooding self obsessed self I think it’s best if I make two very important notes first-

• Firstly, a heartfelt thanks to all those who have read my previous posts till the end. A smaller but equally genuine thanks to even those who clicked on the link and spared my blog a glance. You gave me some irreplaceable moments of your lives and I feel honored because of that.
• Secondly, I am a moron and a complete nincompoop. I can’t sing, dance, act, top the class, paint or even socialize. I am completely clumsy and awkward. But the only thing that I can do is try my hand at amateur writing. It makes me happy. And yet this post comes after almost 2 months. How silly is that!
Ok. I must admit it. This was quite self obsessed too. That is wrong. It calls for a change of flavor.

So going back to the start.

Sitting here in my hostel room, I hear the voices coming from outside. A group of guys playing volleyball, the night-mess person calling out to a companion, the girls on the lower floor singing “Happy Birthday” at the top of their voices to a friend who, even though knew exactly what to expect, seems sincerely surprised.

About a year ago, I would have been asleep in my room back in Delhi at this hour. There would have been no sounds uttered and no movements made. My school bag would have been lying packed on my table; my uniform washed and ironed hanging on my cupboard.
The next day would have found me running towards the school (late again), laughing and fooling around with my friends and carrying out the duties that seemed so important at that time that it felt like the world would stop spinning if they were not done right. The school day would end once again with laughter as we friends hopped towards our respected buses and the nearest Metro station. Sometimes we would pause to peek into the school Church. That always felt nice.

Back home, a good part of my time would be spent watching TV (maybe a sitcom or a cop show). The 9pm slot was reserved for a movie. My radio, that old thing which I love to death, would be crooning in a voice so clear and so pure, it was astonishing to hear it coming out of something so battered. And yet when I would finally rest my head on the pillow and call it a day it felt like I had just had a long and tiring day full of back breaking hard work. And of course, I would remind myself (rather smugly) I am a sincere student who knows everything that is of importance and has been discussed in class.

College has been a humbling experience for me. My teacher (Universal Mother we call her) had warned us about it. She used to say that college would bring us crashing down to the earth and we would finally be forced to confront an unfamiliar reality. She couldn’t have been more right. 3 months in college have taught me what real grinding work is. The fact that I have huge gaps in my knowledge has been slapped across my face. My time was now being spent chasing after a dream that seemed far too distant. The world, now a rival, had a huge lead on me in a race to the top. The seemingly perfect seniors (with determined heads held high) just made me nervous for theirs was a bar raised too high. I struggled to increase my “value” by making my CV “heavier”.
Believe me, this sucked. But then I was reminded by a dear friend about why I chose this life. She reminded me about my own fundas. I have always believed that one must do things because s/he “wants” to do them and not because s/he “has” to do it. I had WANTED to experience this life. I had WANTED to learn more. Not because I want a high paying job, but just because I like to learn more. And this is precisely the reason why I cannot allow myself to feel let down by the fact that others may (or in fact do) know more than me. As long as I want to go on, the goal remains reachable. It is when I stop trying, that even the slightest possibility of reaching there vanishes. It has never been about winning, it has been about learning.

Now that I have been faced with these realities there is a little clarity. What remains unchanging and comforting in this new chaos, is the idea that the memories of the little fairy tale that the last 18 years have been will always be with me. Even though time may, as it has already begun to do, fade them, the warmth that fills me even at the slightest flashback remains the same. And the people in those memories, the crazy people that they all are, remain as hooligan-ish as ever. With this comforting thought I stand with my arms wide open ready to embrace what the world offers and ready to make some new warm memories with some new crazy people.