I recently got the chance to meet some of my very first friends from school. Since it is the time where timelines are flooded with baby pictures and the life cycle of how one became a man or a woman, I thought it was appropriate that I too met with some of my oldest buddies. Not that I did it on purpose but it was somehow meant to happen, and I was at the right place, at the right time.

Some twenty odd years ago, when I sat in my grade 1 class, these guys were also seated around my spot. We had much to chat about, looking at the flow of the Mahaweli River which was just next to our classroom, a glance away. Life did seem complicated back then too because, we had just graduated from Montessori, as we called it in the early 90’s. Thirteen more years at school seemed like forever.

Books, certainly came by naturally to me. It was no big deal, learning to read, write or spell, probably because of Amma’s efforts of teaching me from a very younger age. She never had the chance of entering the Advanced Level classes, because my grand father couldn’t afford to teach his nine children. Nevertheless, she made it her goal to give me what she never could achieve, and is hopefully proud of the man I’ve become, today.

Years flew by and my friends and I got separated a few times. Once in Grade 6, another time in Grade 10 and finally when we were to choose our Advanced Level stream. Going abroad for nearly 03 years and setting foot back in the capital but not my hometown, also did not help the fact of us being drifted apart. We had lost touch completely. I had moved on with new friends from university, and now, with another set of friends from office. During such time, I’ve also managed to secure good friendships with people whom I met while working on certain projects or classes. They too have drifted apart along with my oldest.

That is life, I suppose, moving on and forgetting the past.

The 90’s was all about innocence, apart from what we heard and witnessed about the civil war in the country, particularly the years ’94 and ’98. The latter brought violence to our doorsteps, which I presume was a shock to the very cores of all Buddhists. Everyone ought to remember ’96 and our cricketing heroes. Simply gotta love them for making a solid mark among the greatest of players in the world, and setting all eyes on our small nation. Then came the new millennium, along with the Y2K bug. It was such a big deal, this millennium bug, it just seem quite the opposite when you think about it now.

Anyhow, as I was talking about my friends, I was fortunate enough to meet with that exact bunch who sat around me in grade one, right after the Sinhala & Hindu New Year in April ’15. Nothing seemed to have changed much, except for the fact that they had grown up to become real men. What I certainly didn’t miss, was the innocence that they still carried with them. I did wonder if I looked far too mature for them, like how they would’ve seen Colombus for the very first time, a man who had discovered new land. Setting permanent residence in the capital, does that to a guy, I suppose. Therefore I was very afraid to talk anything, other than our time together in the golden days. I used a most delicate approach in communicating with them. I survived!

Eventually, it was time to say our goodbyes, and we went our separate ways, with lumps in our hearts. We certainly knew that our lives had taken a different turn, than what we sought from within. No matter how close technology brings us together, it is never the same like meeting someone, person to person. I thoroughly believe that the letters we exchanged during old days, carried more meaning and soul, than any text message ever could, in a lifetime.

I miss being simple like my friends. How less they sought from life, and what little expectations they have. I too had the same education they did, and mixed with the same people on a daily basis. How far apart have I drifted off, and why have they remained the same? Such thoughts keeps pondering while the routine Colombo life keeps buzzing me on my office line and the mobile phone. How long could one give in to this madness and rush hours, I do not know. But then, in those dying moments of life, I will surely regret not being a simple man and  miss my old friends.

God knows if I’d have time to reminisce even at my dying bed, for I might be WhatAppin’ some of my closest, from Colombo.