By Dr. R. Balasubramaniam

Attending an alumni meet is like stepping into a time machine. The machine is slightly rusted and the destination is blurry. The fellow travellers have all mysteriously aged. Except, of course, for that one person who somehow still looks like they walked straight out of our final-year group photo.

The moment we step into the venue, we are hit by a wave of nostalgia, excitement and mild panic. Panic, because while the faces look vaguely familiar, the names attached to them have mysteriously evaporated from memory. The brain works frantically. It tries to match features to old yearbook photos. But all that comes to mind is: Was he the guy who borrowed my books and never returned them? or Did he once pull the rug from under me? But of course, we mask our forgetfulness with enthusiasm, greeting everyone with a generic but energetic, “Oh my God! You haven’t changed at all!” — a phrase that now sounds more like a comforting lie than a genuine observation.

The irony, of course, is that most of us have indeed changed — physically, emotionally, and, in some cases, gravitationally. We may have once been lean, mean, late-night-studying (or partying) machines. Today we are more rounded versions of our former selves — literally and figuratively. The once-carefree attitude is gone. Now we discuss cholesterol levels and backaches. We also talk about how the last wedding we attended gave us an existential crisis.

Then comes the glorious rediscovery of the nicknames we gave each other — and, more importantly, those for our faculty. We giggle like school kids remembering how Professor Terminator once struck fear into our hearts or how Mr. Sleepy could doze off mid-lecture, forcing us to question if he had been experimenting with meditation techniques before it was fashionable.

We also reflect on how times have changed. Back in the day, drug use was considered rare, an unfortunate rumour about that one person no one really knew. Today, it seems to have become almost mainstream. This reality makes us wonder if innocence has been lost along the way. Similarly, talking to a girl back then made one an instant hero — something to boast about to friends. Today, it seems laughably childish, given how social norms and interactions have evolved.

Our culture was driven more by our love for sports, impromptu cricket matches and our admiration for Amitabh Bachchan in Bollywood or Dr. Rajkumar in Kannada cinema. Movie outings were grand social events, with animated debates about the best film performances. Today, the same discussions revolve around Netflix, Amazon and which web series is worth binge-watching. Studying was largely incidental — something that happened when there were no better distractions — but having clean, harmless fun was mandatory.

Smoking for many, was an act of defiance and bravery. If you were caught with a cigarette, you were paradoxically both admired and ostracised. You were seen as daring. Yet, you were also regarded as someone to be kept at arm’s length. For those like me who hated going anywhere near a ‘smoke’, we were labelled ‘Gandhis’. No one wanted to be called it though. It was a label that suggested you were too upright. You were considered too honest and far too boring for a group always scheming their next adventure.

The evening of the alumni meet is filled with laughter, exaggerated retelling of our youthful misadventures and harmless roasting sessions. Someone brings up the time a friend mistook a faculty member’s scooter for their own and tried to drive it away. Another, recounts how a poorly timed prank led to an unexpected suspension. The stories sound so absurd now that we wonder if we were all part of some elaborate sitcom.

And then, as the evening progresses, we begin to forget our ages. For a brief few hours, we are once again those reckless, ambitious and invincible students who believed we could conquer the world. The years melt away and so do the responsibilities, deadlines and wrinkles — at least in our minds.

But there is also an unspoken reality of these gatherings. We feel wanted, valued and cared for, yet at the same time, we experience fleeting moments of invisibility. The conversations flow around us, but sometimes, we realize we are not as central to them as we once were. Some friends have bonded closer over the years, while others have drifted into different orbits. We are both part of the group and yet, occasionally, just spectators in a sea of familiar yet unfamiliar faces.

As we leave, promises of “Let’s keep in touch!” and “We should do this more often!” are exchanged, knowing well that life will once again intervene. But for one evening, we relived the best (and most embarrassing) parts of our past, laughed till our stomachs hurt and reassured ourselves that no matter how much we change, some things — like bad jokes and even worse dance moves — remain gloriously the same.

[Dr. R. Balasubramaniam is the Founder of Swami Vivekananda Youth Movement. ‘The Lighter Side’ is a series of satirical articles that one hopes will evoke laughter of what many of us experience in real life.]