Flight!

I went to this party the other day for a friend who was leaving her high school. It was as I had expected, the usual speeches, the usual tears and also the usual laughter. Nothing out of the ordinary, atleast not until I started thinking back to that day in August some 4-5 years ago, when I wore a leather jacket with anti-fit jeans and a tie with formal attire in the space of an hour, when I first publicly read out one of my poems and when another one complemented mine.
It was a tradition I am proud to say we started- that of having a farewell for the outgoing batch at the hostel day (as also of having the girls come to the Boys' Hostel Day). We were all there, in our ties, boys who had become men in that hostel, alongside each other, and we were all sad at the prospect of leaving. For all the times we hated the place and felt stuck there, that day we wanted to stay. To watch the sun set once more amongst a sea of colours, to fly another kite on sankrant, to dance in another monsoon on the terrace, to pass out drunk on the super-terrace again, to dance at one more birthday party, to cat call at the girls and to play another cricket match.
We wanted to stay for all that, but maybe we also were afraid of leaving. Of the world which we now had to face, of growing up, of the responsibilities, of being men and being accountable, of making decisions and of doing all that without the familiarity and the support of those remaining fellows wearing their ties that day. Of losing friends we had made (like we would never again be able to make) however hard we may try to hold on.
But move on we had to. The wings had to be spread, the eagle has to leave the nest first before he may soar. And I can tell you it was hard. We slipped and we fell, some succeeded and soared instantly while others hit the ground harder than they had expected and for many the struggle still continues and will for a while to come. But despite all that I know that all of them will fly one day and the strength in their wings will owe a lot to those days spent in that C-shaped building with no water and even less privacy, but with a whole lot of spirit and fun.
Given the chance to go back to that hostel today I will not choose to, but given a chance to relive my life again from the start I can assure you I would not give up those 4-5 years in the hostel for anything.

For Angels and Thank You

Its been a long time coming but as usual I've been procrastinating. It's about saying 'thank you' but I just don't seem to get around to it. About how people you've never known, perfect strangers, open their doors for you; welcome you into their lives and go out of their way to help you out. About how in a foreign land, with a familiar yet foreign tongue, these people- unknown to you until a moment ago- suddenly come to you as angels and share their food with you and their drink and their bed, while they themselves sleep on the floor. How they befriend you with ease and trust you and touch your life. And make you wonder how you ever will repay their kindness!
And that is the first mistake. For never do you have to repay kindness. All you have to do in return for the food and the drink and the shelter and the trust and the open doors is to open the doors of your own heart to them!