by Rohit Sharma
It has been long, perhaps too long since I left high school. Memories of those times are still entrenched, no more active, but alive enough to cause pain. Memories are all what are left, wrapped in my head; some make me smile, while others tear me apart.
Assiduously, day after day for years, I took the same road to and from school. The makeshift road was once just a footpath, but no vehicles could ply on it for it was too steep. The road ran straight for a hundred meters, before turning swiftly to the right at the huge deodar tree, from where it rose gradually upto the hill top, providing a breath-taking view of the fair lawns below.
In the chilly mornings when the sun shimmered through the leaves and the dew drops washed the leaves clean, it was time to head to school. My brother and I, trudging slowly and silently. Hardly any noise could pierce through those tall, menacing trees creating an aura of timelessness, and in a sense, it was true, for the trees were really old but seemed ageless. The only noise was a rustle of the leaves or a bird chirping, and the only commuters were young boys. The mornings were clearly uneventful, unlike the evenings, when someone was always the butt of our jokes. The short distance usually took an hour or so, for the power of random talk can surprise even the most taciturn soul. No, we never talked philosophy; most of our banter was useless or a tirade of abuse against the teacher who set an excruciating exam.
During this time, the government had put up a guest house on the way. It made no sense, for the road was quite forlorn, but it’s the way government works: mysterious and nonsensical are its ways. And as expected, no one ever came to check-in. Now dilapidated, time’s apathy had fallen on the forsaken structure. Only, God had something else planned, and it became the much-preferred hanging out spot for most of the school kids. Soon enough the mischievous ones had found secret hideouts in the structure. Months later, it was here that young boys shed their inhibition to try out the cool stuff. Cigarettes soon became the norm, which was followed by more serious substance abuse.
It was here I could not muster enough courage to say “No”, after the innocuous, “Just once”, experiment. It was here the innocent and the bullies mixed up, shared their pains and became one in that fleeting moment. And, it was here I lost my friends, or they lost me. More time passed, seasons changed and I became more lonely. The road was more alien to me, or was I an alien to it for it had new companions? The world was rushing by while I was barely hanging by the thread.
I was completely lost, with no sense of direction, unexpected of a young man in this country. High school was soon over, and I left the city behind, closing all doors and never looking back. Somebody wrote, “…a few dozen hours can affect the outcome of whole lifetimes”; for me, it was just a few minutes which trumped all my existence until then, all my failures and all my victories. My past was the sound of my shoes chafing against the road or me lying in a semi-conscious state staring at the nearby trees for hours. My memories were those of a lost youth, of wasted hours, of cold nights, of abominable smells and forgotten friends, but it’s hard to imagine the sufferings our body has to endure, if the mind decides to rigidly stick to something. I took with me these memories, painful yet deeply treasured because they taught me some valuable lessons in life. It is not we who decide which memories to keep and which to discard, our only part is to laugh at them when we’ve grown wiser.
I have walked many a road since then, rested in dark corners, but none left an indelible impression like the road where it all fell apart.
Many years later, I took the same road and memories came rushing back. The trees were still majestic, the road still lonely, the house almost crumbling; but what struck me was that they had each other for company, only I was alone. And the most biting memory came rushing back, as blood gushes out from a wound. When it did it caused unbearable pain. It was the memory of that instance when he saw me using it for the first time; in that brief moment when our eyes met, I think he understood my loneliness. Only then were we brothers more than ever, before or after, and I knew my life had changed forever.
Rohit is a B Tech in Computer Science from IIIT, Hyderabad. When not wired in, he can be found reading or playing football. His music and movies collection is as eclectic as his taste. In a dream world, he would love to have the skills of a professional footballer.
