Those were the days

Those were the days.. we will say.. when we are sixtyfive. Those of us who survive the dengue, the bombs, the heart attacks and the strokes. Some of us who met at school, and fought our way through, despite exams and crushes. Others we met at college, where we grew up together defending those all important rights and wrongs that we did not know would be swept away in the sea of worldliness that many of us would succumb to.

Then, there were those that we met in the first flush of salaried youth – the ones we partied with, and still borrowed money from…. somehow managing to make it to work after an all nighter – not really remembering whether it was work or a party or both that kept us out that weekend. Those bonds of shared angst and sneaky ambition were strong, if a bit abashed. The first time we realized what it really meant to leave someone behind.

Friendships were sparse after that, for my generation at least. Your batch was the family you made and left, knowing that fate would bring them forth every few years.. Your first colleagues were a mark of validation for the choices you made. The others were neighbours or parents of the children’s friends. Social media sprouted and for a while the number of friends we made on Linked in and Facebook made us feel like winners. But these were people we had outgrown or needed to cultivate for our ambitions. Staying out of that game was cool too, for a while. But gave us nothing to make memories with.

Except the ones we glorify. And which generation does not do that! It really could not have been that great without air-conditioning when our grandparents were young. And nobody really sat in the cool breeze off a river and wrote poems and made a living like that. Our memories are made up of moments that match our dreams. And the gloss we put over them with time.

So, the simple rivalries of our youth will be transformed into moments of camaraderie And the years when we did not meet, but clicked the like button on each other’s holiday and baby photographs will be the years we grew old together. The conversations we had on twitter, sharing our highs and quotidian lows will be scintillating in memory.  Claiming  a glorious, glamorous youth – just to be able to say – Those were the days:)

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