Parallel Conversations

*note: I have been told I carry out parallel conversations so please, play some music while you read this.*

" It is the blessing of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

This is a quote I would have agreed with before the 14^th of April 2016. Come 14^th the Ajmer Shatabdi was buzzing with incessant chatter, unending movement and a little laughter. Virtual strangers boarded the train together, sat in almost complete silence and stared as the Aravalli’s enclosed our already reserved countenance. Little did we know that the wait on Ajmer Junction would form unlikely bonds of friendship blanketed by a comfort only the aforementioned friends could lend.

 There was a sense of belonging that made my heart beat faster. Faster, as we neared the buildings I called home for so many years. I could almost see my own smile as we disembarked the bus that we waited 45 minutes for. Those camel coloured suits with the Pachranga paisleys and maroon ‘churnis’ were a sight that greeted sore eyes (The excitement prevented any sleep from reaching me). Juniors running and smiles widening, I, walked into the mess. Greeted by the chaos that we so fondly remember and like any other Thursday at the MCGS mess, simply the sight of kadhi-chawal filled me up. The computer science lab with its air conditioning was an escape I couldn’t wait to make. Chaos. Multiple prints, addition of editorials and deletion of articles. At the end all I can say is that the sound of the Photostat machine never felt so good.

Changing in Charumati House, a surge of nostalgia washed over me as I genuinely began hurrying up after the sound of the bell. The same bell that ruled my every (well, almost every) move for 5 years. A dinner that went into a lot more, conversation and begging for ‘chai’ (angrezi and desi) in Oman Guest House. A clean and not so ‘clumsy’ room became the space for the chai and charcha. The Air conditioner tried and failed to get rid of the smell of the miasma. But at the end of the night where acquaintance began turning into friendship, we didn’t care very much.

A newsletter left to the mercy of students, an event left to the mercy of teachers and the vehicles left to the mercy of a driver whom the entire lot of us managed to drive crazy by the end of the evening. Dera Masuda, saw us descend upon it like a swarm of bees, 2 hours of continuous dancing and a failed sneak out that led to a few awkward questions by the Principal (washroom woes :p which baffled that entire table where the senior faculty was seated), blue bottles and green boxes (interchangeable words) and CAKE (lots of colour because ‘apni toh yaari atrangi hai re..’)! The best part was being miserly about the chai and not sharing it with the angrez!(his fault, he shouldn't have questioned our methods.) Breaking rules that we felt were binding, walking a complete round of a campus most of us would look longingly at, hearing its stories and learning its history. 

  

Maybe that’s the reason it surprised no one when we landed up behind schedule, those midnight conversations that became early morning ones as well as those morning introductions that became midnight conversations, happenings that I expected would make me rethink certain aspects of existence only liberated me further. The reverberating beats of the music, the swishing skirts and clicking heels, as well as a case of dehydration led to midnight games of Taboo which were played Gayatri style (in hindi, using actions and disregarding the rules- why? Because Gayatri is always right! And the rest of us ‘ toh uss level ke the hi nahi’ that we would get it). Ruining the juniors peace of mind and adding her to the club with only 3 hours of sleep, Maggi breakfast at MCGS was a justified next! Not to forget the Pizza party, the exhaustion which led to dehydration and the scramble to pack our suitcases.

The 17^th of April had us all in a ‘senti’ mood, goodbyes are never easy and neither are they forever, but they have to be said, for if you don’t leave, you never come back. A compartment of 78 seats, with 50 belonging to the students and us, the shatabdi was once again full of incessant chatter that made it feel like ‘a forest’ with only ‘fools’. But a journey which should have taken 7 hours and took 6 more instead, in the last analysis should have driven us insane but all I remember is the laughter and the fun (not true, I also remember the shouting and the stench that I was forced to face).

Rescuing boys from girls, rescuing coke bottles from sleeping kids and forming new friendships with people of a different calibre, a School Captain, a Sleepy non-sleeper, a ‘yo-ey’, a what’s up kid, a kid who gave me his seat (all from the same school) , a karate kid(whose name I know not) and a CHATTRAPATI (oh! Thank God, everyone rescued the pen from me, while the thought of jail kept me from action, the comment that I would do human kind service was a great aggravator). A debate on feminism, a discussion on how good-looking women should be kept at a distance if they adversely affect one’s well-being and a declaration that YKD ‘alag hi hai’, left me so introspective that those 6 extra hours that at that moment in time annoyed me to no end will always be remembered with great fondness.

The 4:15 am arrival at New Delhi Railway Station filled me with a sadness I couldn’t comprehend, there was a hurry to get home but there was a longing, a longing to go back, to once again feel the serenity in chaos that the MCGS batch of 2017 provided me with, to be jellyfished, to once again be cut midway through my conversation, to be told I carry out parallel conversations, to stand once again at the train door and feel the countryside slipping past like a symphony, to relive those conversations about addictive tea and societal constraints, to play once again Taboo (gayatri style) with half the compartment, to hold conversation with those kids of a separate calibre. There was a fear that these days will in some time become empty memories and that those friendships may fade away but there is also a confidence that this conference was a special one. One we would not want to forget.

From being a Mayoite to becoming an ex-Mayoite, from being a senior to becoming a sister, from YKD to yakadi, from standing in the wings to becoming a (self-declared ‘best’) wing-man, a part of me will always be indebted to the people who made these 4 days some of the most precious in all my travel. A thank you won’t cut it, but I’ll say it anyway. Thank you for the fun, the moments, the crazy time, the music and the memories. MCGSMUN 2016, You will be missed!