Farewell

        13 months ago, on a remarkably dry monsoon morning, 5 complete strangers walked through a door and assembled in a small room. Part apprehensive, part curious and completely oblivious to the existence of each other, until that point, their short introductions were to form the basis of a flourishing friendship. Over the course of the next year, during many extended tea and lunch breaks, they shared their joys and frustrations. And then, the much expected, yet hardly awaited moment arrived. A member of the clique made the decision to walk through that same door yet again, this time in the opposite direction.

        Recently, a very dear friend decided to quit the organization leaving behind objects once identified with that individual’s erstwhile presence and habits which need to be killed. An empty desk unsettles by the absence of activity around it and an unoccupied chair haunts by just being immobile, unused. A message typed into the local messenger is erased promptly since the recipient is no longer on the network. As reality starts sinking in, the mind wanders off to revisit all the wonderful moments shared by the group. A collection of memories are like a glass which is perennially half empty. Even after having spent a year together, it craves to experience those very moments one last time. No amount of addition will make any difference to the completeness of this glass. I wonder which basic human emotion is responsible for this perception - Resistance to change or a lack of satisfaction. The only escape is to perceive the glass as being half filled.

        The event brought back memories of my graduation day. Three eventful years spent in the company of Mechanimals and yet we wished for more. Those three wonderful years were beautifully encapsulated in the form of a poem which i present below. I can only claim credit for the last four lines, the rest being the creation of a certain Mr. Swapneel Rane ( more from this talented soul can be found here).

There once assembled a crowd of fools,
Who never knew bats from tools.
All they wanted was to enjoy,
And not be bothered with the Principal's ploy.

First year they were held apart,
In different classes they just wouldn't start.
Second year brought them together,
After that, seperate they could never.

Carrom brought us little gold,
At T.T. we were ever so bold.
Cricket champions at first try,
Best Class was still a far cry.

Worthy opponents were the Telecom geeks,
Their women were but mighty freaks.
Young they were when crown was theirs,
Alas they leave with vivid nightmares.

Support we recieved from Comps,
Cheer us they did in lots and lots.
To their maidens were lost many a heart,
The Comps-Mech link was here to last.

Final year brought with it many a tear,
To Goa we went inspite of fear.
Results were quite a revelation,
Dazed we were left with utter fascination.

Best in sports, we were again,
But not without hiccup and pain.
Zeal brought with it a new sensation,
Institutional torture and a new dimension.

Through collective might,
We won the fight.
Working hard through day and night,
To scream Best Class is now our right.

For four years, like zealous birds we flew,
Having created history, we now bid adieu.
A legacy to live upto, we leave for all others,
Champion Of Champions thus leave the Band Of Brothers.

        As for the friend who bid farewell, may you be blessed with success in all your future endeavors. Cheers!