Plans of a Reunion

Yaaayyyy…πŸ˜†πŸ˜†πŸ˜†

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It all started with a random post – the photo of an empty classroom – and twenty minutes later, everybody was nuts with excitement. PC was all geared up for the historic reunion which was  just coming out of the cocoon in the comments section of Haddi’s nostalgic rant, even though the photo he had uploaded was nowhere near to what our real classroom looked like. 



It was the classroom you find on google – an elegant interior with expensive, polished furniture, a high ceiling with flush mounted lights, decorated walls and a green board greener than the grass in John Green’s novels. On the other hand, our classroom was more of a whorehouse. Dingy walls that hadn’t seen a duster since their creation, old desks plagued with scribbles as old as Indus Valley Civilization, mainly composed of love letters to Bewafa Soumya, coarse floor that made a soul searing screech everytime somebody walked – our classroom was the place where you get dengue if you sat in the last rows. Yet, there is something about the old sepia images of insanely jolly kids within those dingy walls that makes me want to think about it again and again. 

I remember our classroom and our precious seats that were allotted through chits (yeah! πŸ˜‘). Our principal was a fat lady with some serious phobia of seeing happy faces. So she made sure our life was worse than hell. It’ll take me an entire post to describe her. 

Anyway, as I write this post, I picture each of my classroom right through the 7 years I spent at MZMS. I can see people, the ones who mattered and the ones who matter, and Doctor in her three different hairstyles and forty four different frowns, and the winds and the sunshine outside, and oh, it’s beautiful! I remember walking upto this place very early, sometimes long before even the door had been unlocked. I remember sitting and waiting for Doctor to arrive (hopeless romantic I was πŸ˜…) and she wouldn’t unless the room was already infested with people who I could forget with a blink. I remember her entries more than I remember mine. The same expression – the big, innocent, confused eyes, as if she’d seen something odd, or as if it didn’t matter to her as well, as if she could, too, forget people with a blink. I remember her steps, the way she trudged along, the slow relaxed walk, the soft glimmer of peace on her otherwise turbulent face. Or maybe I’m making things up. Or maybe I really did see her like this. Like Jordan watches Heer in the end of the movie, while she’s nothing but a beautiful hallucination. Alright, I think I should stop describing her and get back to describing the reunion talks. 

So when we met the next evening – PC and Churan and everybody else – PC restarted the talk. 

“Hey. I’m dead serious. We’re having a reunion at the school. “He said. 

Churan thought for a while about that and said, “whatever. ”

“What do you think about it? “He asked me. I was already planning my hairstyle for the day of reunion by then.

“Yeah. But unless there are at least fifteen girls who are ready to submit it in written that “even if there’s a zombie outbreak in the city, they are coming for reunion”, I’m not coming. “I declared. 

“Can you even name 15 girls from our class? “They all butted in at once. Okay, now this was a rude thing to say. Of  course I knew the names of 15 of our female classmates. How could I not! There was Doctor and her two friends, PC’s 3 foot tall ex-girlfriend, this 7 feet tall, white-as-Sheamus girl I talk to these days, then a few girls I would not like to have babies with, and, and, and this girl, and oh shit, I am out of names.

“Okay. “I frowned. “But that doesn’t change anything. Fifteen girls minimum, that is. ”

“Alright. Talk to Doctor about it. I’ll talk to the Big Fish. “PC said. 

Talk to Doctor about it!? 

I’d rather wear red pants and dance in front of spanish bulls than ask that crazy girl anything. I mean you could never guess what would make her mad. It’s like playing a different game of chess everytime I converse with her. After the formal openings are done, you have no idea what’s coming. And she’s as unpredictable and tempestous as monsoons. She says hi and I say hi and then I start to pray because I don’t know what to say. Ughh. 

Anyway, she’s still furious after that you-ignored-me ordeal. And my last post got her pissed off even more for some weird reason only intelligent Roman Gods are aware of. 

“I don’t think so. “I said, “Tell her boyfriend about the reunion. He would ask her. Better chances of acceptance. “I laughed like an idiot. They all nodded as if it was a really good idea. Sometimes I wonder whose side my friends are on. πŸ˜‘

After a long discussion. It was decided that we would do it in December. We’d start preparations towards the end of October. It’ll be a bang, if those 15 girls show up. And we also made an exception for Any-Hot-Girl-Who-was-Not-Our-Classmate-but-Shows-Up. I mean what if PC wore a deo and some angel dropped from heaven. For such a highly probable case, that exception was necessary. 

Having said that, I’m not sure what I’ll be doing at Reunion. Playing a host? Nah I don’t think so. Maybe I’ll watch Doctor and her boyfriend and fan my burning insides. But anyway, it’ll be fun. 

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