One of the things I spend a lot of time reflecting on is my own OS or wiring, and its updates. In a recent conversation with D, courtesy a college reunion (25 years!) I realised that I have very, very few friends from school and college whom I stay in touch with. Why was that, I wondered.
I don’t have many memories of my first school – Std 1 and 2. I remember the uniform vividly, and the prizes I won. I have forgotten what they were for though. I have a flood of memories about my second school – Std 3 to 7. Probably because I think they were my best days. I was almost always ranked first in class, I sang, recited poetry, was part of the quiz team, and even played hockey! What I remember most was how accommodating the teachers were when I had to miss classes for practice and competitions. Many of them actively encouraged me to pursue the things I showed some interest and talent in.
And it went beyond that. There was something in the people I knew then. I remember how once, there was some competition in a different school, and G, my classmate and biggest competitor for the first rank in class, hadn’t advanced to the final round and yet stayed back so she could drop me at home. I shifted schools after 7th because we were moving to a different part of town. Immediately after my exams, I also had a minor surgery. R, my Hindi teacher, visited me in the hospital with her husband. What I remember most, thus, is the kindness.
I have to admit that I don’t think I repaid it much. After I had shifted schools, I participated in some competition, now representing my new school. My old teachers were there too, and being the uber shy idiot I am, I didn’t even acknowledge them. How bad they must have felt!
I didn’t like my new school at all. Somehow I just didn’t fit in. They prioritised academics at the cost of everything else, and there was very little space for the other things I enjoyed. While I made a few friends, the camaraderie I had in my other school just wasn’t there. On hindsight, maybe mom’s illness was also playing on my mind.
I think it also had to do with the kind of neighbourhoods I lived in. Before we shifted, we lived in a university campus. Largely egalitarian – people working in the same place, living in similar quarters, earning within the same range, enjoying the same facilities and so on. When we moved to the city, the house itself was one of the smallest in the street, though I don’t think I paid it that much attention. The inequalities in general were bigger, something that reflected in the kids at school too. The in-groups were stronger, and I feel it to this day in WhatsApp groups.
It wasn’t that there weren’t kind people there – I remember how M consoled me for hours after mom passed away. I went to ridiculous movies with R,A and S. I had a good friend V, who had a terrible accident and was in pain for months. I used to visit him in the hospital and his relatives used to make me sing. Yes, facepalm. I used to guiltily look at V even as I sang. At reunions (which I mostly avoid) and in the WhatsApp group, I see a totally different person. Someone I cannot relate to at all. Maybe his wiring changed after that accident, and the mental and physical anguish it caused. The change in me after 10th was quite drastic. Mom’s death pretty much unleashed a wicked sense of humour, which was my armour until recently.
I think, after her death, and later, when my grandmother moved to my uncle’s place during my engineering days, my subconscious probably decided that relationships had a shelf life. That friends were that, only in a certain context. When it came down to it, I was the only person I could depend on. It took D and most of my life to get over that.
Then again, as the joke goes
