All these years, I have heard people talking about slam books and reunions and with the advent of social networking sites even managed to see some pictures of couple of reunions.
A picture may say a thousand words, they say, but to me they did not when it came to reunions. I mean, there was a slight disconnect to that in the sense that the caption would say, e.g, ‘The Class of 1980’ but the people in the pictures would be old, with paunches, balding scalps with white and grey hair and even kids in tow.
And then there was the reunion, the only one in this case, that happened to yours truly on Saturday, December 11.
Apart from the loads of memories that were shared, one or two people even showed their affection by posting pictures promptly and they were immediately lapped up. Suddenly the importance and value of Facebook and its features shone brighter within like a man enlightened with the presence of the Almighty himself.
But there was a slight thing nagging from within. What was it? What?
And then it was clear. The joy was so much and yet the joy was restricted. Everyone was left with memories but everyone also had to move on. The whole day went like a breeze and everybody had this brief hesitation.
It was the thought of “what next?” and that prompted immediately for many to call for another reunion in one year’s time. Imagine, we did not remain in contact for each other for 20 years – and probably would still not have if not for FB – and here there was now talk of having two in one year or probably less period of time.
It was like having that favourite cup of ice cream or going on a travel holiday to an exotic location. You wish you had more and everyday but these moments are such that too much and it sounds an overkill to yourself. If they are too less, life seems unfair.