The Tide of Change - part 7

Alwal Tales, A Trip Down Memory Lane - part 7 of 10

Armstrong, Sunil, Satish, and I all submitted to a mostly circumstantial, newly-sprung 'change' as the 1990s gave way to the dread and distraction of the 2000s, one by one, unpredictably: its solid, monopolising, indifferent hold on our way of life wouldn't let go, and it seemed it refused to let us be, or so we felt.

As the explosion of this thing called 'change' entered our lives, we experienced a palpable sense of dread, distraction, and uncertainty about what the future would bring. Not that we weren't prepared or lacked the tools necessary to meet the challenges of the future, whatever it entailed. We had professional degrees, the right convictions, and just enough in our common sense tank to find our place awash in the sun. But we found it difficult to acknowledge the flood of 'change' (and time) that we suddenly began observing everywhere and strained immensely to embrace that which was coming.

We didn't want 'change,' and the reason solely was: we didn't want it so soon in our lives as, I think, we were naturally inclined to be overly cautious about anything that makes you feel 'the dread of the unfamiliar' or 'to make or become different' or 'alter' or 'transitions' or 'change.' Like a barbarian, the 'change' stood at the gate demanding we enter. Didn't it?

In the end, change found us.

By degrees, everything changed as a result. Although we knew that the direction of our lives was changing for the better, we still believed that the decade to come would be largely reminiscent of the 1990s, which we loved so much. But we were mistaken, though. We had no choice but to comply and accept the changes coming our way. Change found us. No matter how much we wanted to cling to the life we were used to, the beloved decade we grew so fond of had changed. The 1990s were, unfortunately, very different from what the 2000s were beginning to show.

For this unwanted changeover, a new decade—of a new millennial century, no less—had to begin. The 1990s, which we had great nostalgia for, was a magnificent decade that never ceased to exist and never left us ever, even though we underwent significant change and went along with the times that came. Now we can see how horrible the world has gotten by looking at the 2000s and later years.

Today, all we have left are the memories of our continuing friendship, which we will treasure forever, no matter where we go to work or perform our tasks, live our new lives, or fulfil our responsibilities as parents or family men. We acknowledge that reality and the impossibility of returning to the past. After all, who can go back in time? No one. Except when we recall our memories in a dream, we catch a fleeting glimpse of our past life; that's all. Time cannot go back in time; it only knows how to advance itself forward without as much as giving a second thought to its action. We've, I reckon, changed with the times, albeit with a lot of agonising wavering on our part; it was inevitable that we'd somehow adapt to the forward momentum of the times in which we were living or the onward rush of a seemingly fanciful tomorrow that is coming.

(Humankind's irrational fantasies are driving us into an apocalyptic landscape of artificially-induced, tech-laden destiny that we'd never get accustomed to while the spectre of global warming obliterates everything we cherish on this adored planet. Little wonder that in the far, far future, this universe will end with a whimper.)

While I'm not sure I've changed in the sense that the world sees, Armstrong and Satish have managed to move with the times. And that's a good thing: I reckon being practical about the future is the way forward. Everything changes with time or with time everything changes, and it has always been the case for eons. Fortunately, these days, we talk to each other from time to time and try to recall our old days irretrievably lost in the times past. That is how things stand between us while we live with the dramatic transformation of the world around us: change, whatever the word connotes. The change will happen, no matter what we say about it or do; change will maraud.

And so the days of celebrating our friendship at the dhabas are over. After 2000/1, the dhabas ceased to be in our scheme of things. We never went back to a dhaba on the Medchal highway. Those days are long gone, fading into the twilight evenings of our past when everything was brighter, greener, and more beautiful. But, as I cling to the memories of the distant past, I pretend they haven't gone away, at least not from my heart.

In my mind, I keep replaying the early years of our friendship, hearing the familiar voices of my close friends, and picturing the tableaus of the scenes of our growing up years back in the 1990s. I am grateful that I still have all my memories; I haven't stopped thinking about them. I reminisce as a storyteller would.

(To be continued…)

By Arindam Moulick

Dedicated to my beloved friends: Armstrong, Satish, and Sunil.

Click on the links below to read the other essays written in the series:
‘Remembering: Going to The Dhabas with Friends - part 1’
‘An Abundance of Tasty Memories - part 2’
‘Memories of the Distant Past - part 3’
‘Sweet Days of Youth, a memoir - part 4’
‘As Time Goes By, a memoir - part 5’
‘The Last Days of Friendship - part 6’