MEMORIES IN THE MIST

invigorating long chats,
writing graffiti on campus walls,
the randomness of thoughtful Sundays,
the gruesome Mondays,
the instant noodles,
the casual irreverence of youth,
the mindnumbing seventh periods,
discovering Salinger,
trying to discover oneself,
the inspirational jam sessions with Aniruddha on the rooftops,
writing soulful poetry for Binya,
devouring idealism,
thinking about particle accelerators,
getting drenched in rains,
‘Lost in Translation’ at Picaddily,
the long hair and Guevara Tshirts,
the thousand possibilities, the million dreams….


I miss them all.
Whenever I see the old slam-books, I miss them all.
Whenever I tell you about them, I miss them all
For they were all part of me
But do they miss me too?


I feel that they still remember my name,
But I fear tomorrow they will stop.
I fear it because I love it.
And everything you love, you fear you will lose.


But as of today, if you go to GMNC, Mussourrie
make a point to visit the first storey
of the old Science wing
behind the pine and oaks, besides the tennis court
engraved under one of the desks,
you shall find my name
I was there
And the class of 2002


I can still feel the cacophony, dissertations
hear the echoes and snatches of conversations
I still go there
From time to time
In my memories in the mist


‘Sic Transit Gloria’.
Glory Fades…..
But we had actually thought that it was possible.
We had dreams in our eyes once.
All those years, all those sacrifices.
Once…..


I often think of those days
When we were trying to change the world
Who did we think we were?
And the world may not have changed in a thousand ways
But at least, we tried. We did all we could.
We believed
We almost won.


Even if you amputate a person’s arms, he can still feel them tingling
The past clung on to my fingers like gum
The days of being wild


I'm walking along the beach in a howling gale-I hear the voices of dead friends wailthe voices from the past, wistful reminiscences,
a longing sadness and remembrances
Voices that echo and slur
and then were lost forever


My pen chased this story across the page tossed this way
It was quiet today in yesterday
But we had filled that classroom with the echo of many voices

It had welcomed many summersEmbraced many laughter and tears
Yesterday stretches, yawns and is awake.Here I am, again in the waiting room. It’s going to rain
And when it rains, it pours


Let the rain wash away the old, dried paint of my classroom
And the colors and sorrows of the past
And when the rain goes away,
These memories in mist will remain at last
One day, far into the future,
Again the clouds will gather.
And again it will rain
Will history remember our name?


For we were there once
The 2002 alumni list
And we still remain there
In our memories in the mist