A few of our batchmates from 1986 -’88 decided on an impromptu get- together on a cloudy Chennai evening on January 23rd.
With few weeks left, the planning became hectic, venues were shortlisted after thorough analysis, menu was planned to accommodate several palates and sensitivities. WhatsApp messages flirted back and forth for confirmations. Several friends weighed in on their contacts and compelled them to re-think any rain checks that might spoil the evening.
Finally, the day arrived. The chosen venue – Malayalee Club, off Spur-tank road – was a perfect choice to relive those days that we used to roar on our bikes as young college kids. Only, this time around, we arrived quietly in cars and cabs.
Google maps guided us to the venue. Once we reached, we switched off Google and just followed the high decibel conversations and reached the second floor – the source of all the commotion.
As we entered the room, we were surrounded by loud cheers and warm hugs. With permanently pasted grins on our faces, we mingled around exchanging greetings. Over the din, we managed to make self-introductions.
Most of us announced that they have become ‘senior citizens’ while others summarily dismissed the tag. The narrative that went around the room was clearly of people who had excellent careers and are now in a phase of reflection or just doing what their heart had always wanted to do.
A wave of nostalgia washed around as each one of us narrated our stories thus far. Some shared the loss of their spouses and parents, the health setbacks they had to face. The Corporate conquests that were made, the cultural and artistic expressions they were able to create, and the institutions that they built that had withstood the test of time. There was a zen like calm that prevailed even when the narration was emotional and sometimes turbulent . Some recalled their old flames and burst out laughing at the silliness of it all -after all these years.
Soon, Old Monks and King Fishers did their rounds as we snacked on tasty starters and tucked into sumptuous Kerala style food spread out in a lavish buffet.
The crooners regaled us with golden oldies in Tamil, Hindi and English and we broke into a jig enthused by the spirits and the loud cheers.
The mood turned a bit sombre as someone mentioned, "I never know whether I’ll be around to meet next time." this statement made us reflect on the brevity of life and we remembered our friends who had left us all too soon – their lives tragically cut short by cruel fate.
We were behaving like kids, defying the usual uncle-aunty persona we had so effortlessly shed for the day. The essence of the night was perfectly captured in a moment of shared laughter with the young waiter who had been serving us food and drinks all day. When we handed him an iPhone to take a group photo, he burst into uncontrollable laughter, struggling to hold the phone steady for a shot. Some of us shouted at him, half-amused, half-serious, “Hey, why are you laughing? You’re only supposed to click the photo!”
Perhaps the youngster was overwhelmed at the sight of us, a bunch of oldies’, acting like a gaggle of carefree school kids. Age may have mellowed us, but it certainly hadn’t dulled our youthful edge. We sang, shouted, and danced without a care in the world—soaking in the joy of the moment, the pure essence of the day.
Soon, it’s time to say our good-byes. The hard-core party animals made other plans well into the night, while some of us reluctantly left to our own callings.As the cold night descended and the Noise in the club’s corridors finally died, the Music in our hearts had just begun. As Khalil Gibran so eloquently put it:
"In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed."
– Khalil Gibran, The Prophet
Comments
Post a Comment