There comes a time in everyone’s life when the boundaries between white and black begin to fade, the color grey starts having a startling new dimension and the horizon appears a tad closer, from the assuming infinity it has acquired from time immemorial. Times like these, the bonds of kinship re-appear and the feeling of mutual respect gains a foothold in the already fluttering hearts. For some fortunate ones of us, all these combined at a single intangible time, in a single day, when everyone gathered at the barricades of what once welcomed us with open arms- for one last time.
The journey already being the stuff of legends, the gladiators looked erringly decent with the unmistaken air of success, but you could guess, from the body language, what had been so important between the time when everyone had bid their goodbyes and coming back- and again I say it- for one last time.
They say closure is important. Was the two-three day return, an escape from normalcy, a mere closure? It went more and beyond, reliving four years in two days- a mere forty eight hours ! One would expect a tirade in circumstances likewise, but what settled here was an effluent calm, a harmony of poles apart, brought in from messengers all over the country, who all came, to experience what cannot ever be experienced again- for the first and the last time.
One might have been out of his senses the whole time he was there, but you didn’t need drugs for a change to rake-in the high. The munificence of marijuana and the magnificence of scotch only added to the beauty of the occasion. The solemn smiles radiant in the eyes of the beholders only reminded the observant to what he/she is going to miss.
Rushdie says ‘what cannot be cured must be endured’. I disagree. And the bunch of people who have stood by my side over these years would disagree. For there is a hidden middle path. Of not giving a damn. That was what made us, this was what defined us. And these two days were a blatant proof of taking it all in, and returning it with a smile.
As Hank Moody puts it, “Sometimes its better not to touch your dreams. Take it from someone who knows.” We did. We all did tread on them, softly, subtly and often than not, in a hurry and the reminiscence of what all has passed will bring a sad smile. Of not being able to live it all again. For the parting went as sudden as the union. But there were no tears this time, for everyone knew before embarking to the place where dreams had been made that someday, dreams have to come to an end.