Wednesday, April 2, 2014

High school reunion - my worst nightmare

With Whatsapp, the world has suddenly become a smaller place. I would like to thank Brian Acton for coming up with this, and  Mark Zuckerberg for recognizing its potential.

Needless to say, my classmates from high school have come together and formed a group. And the chatter and banter flow as if we were never apart. We are racking up over a thousand messages a day, and I have been contributing significantly to that. However, as soon as the pleasantries were done with, and adequate amazement had been expressed on hearing from each other over a two-decade hiatus, a collective desire was expressed to plan a reunion. And that's where I started getting cold feet.

No, I am not callous, nor am I unsocial or antisocial to any significant degree. I am scared, plain and simple. Scared of meeting old schoolmates, the bosom buddies of childhood and adolescence, the very people who were my life for nearly two decades, and who have definitely shaped up my personality to a large extent, and whom I have remembered every single day of my life after the separation. Yes, scared. Terrified.

Let's recollect our school days. There were friends, the ones that are for life. There was camaraderie, fun and frolic, gaiety, happiness, tears, competition, jealousy, animosity, hostility, make-ups and breakups, even a few affairs. After several years of separation, all that remains is nostalgia, memory of the good times, and the heartbreak of separation. And the realization that they were the best. Nothing can top or replace the bonds formed during school. However, there was something then that everyone has lost after living the conundrum called life for so many years. Innocence. And along with that have been lost, its companions, simplicity and and the adolescent ability to not judge people. And that is the cause of my fear.

We will go into that reunion all naive and excited, hoping it will be exactly like the good old days in the school canteen and at the school picnics. But a few hours into the event, we will realize that things are not exactly as we imagined. We will judge our friends with our world-weary minds and hearts and we will discover things that we don't like. And in that one moment, these friends will suddenly look ordinary. They will seem exactly like the people we call friends and acquaintances in our present daily life. The charm will wear off; the special feeling will be replaced by disappointment, and discontent.

And that special place that we fall back upon when we are melancholic or depressed or tired of fighting this disease called life - the memories of our glorious school days in the company of our best friends - that place which helps us recuperate and gives us the strength to stand up and fight some more - that will be lost. Violated for ever. I can draw a parallel here. If you go to your parents house and find your favorite toy in the attic, one that you firmly believed was your best toy ever, it will not seem so special anymore. You will be shocked to realize that this rag doll, or wooden toy car was the center of your universe for a few years, and has been embedded in your memory as something special for so many years.

And just for a few hours of fleeting joy, I am not willing to lose so much. Those memories and their warmth, as implanted in my mind - the source of my strength and the reason for my willingness to carry on - are priceless, and I am not mentally strong enough to let them go. Not at any cost. And so, I dread the day when this inevitable reunion will take place, and I dread the moment when I have to face my past, a past that I like the way I remember it.