Our lives changed as the years of the new millennium progressed. To adjust to the new ways, as they say: ‘embrace change,’ and make the most of what the first decade had to offer, we had to learn, unlearn, and relearn.
But even then, our collective experience of the beautiful, formative 1990s decade was never far from our minds. We lived to tell the proverbial tale as we gradually geared up to the power of saying a louder 'No,' to our 'cool' impulses without feeling guilty or much worse about what we felt as largely unromantic, unconcerned shrugging off newness of the highly politically charged millennium years that came meant really.
We were somewhat naive, if that's the right word to mean, in thinking that the 1990s, which we adored so much and still do, would continue into the 2000s — and therefore, the coming decade would be much like the previous one, without so much change that we cannot take into our stride. What were we thinking? We were mistaken to believe that. Naivety has its price, I guess. The two decades could not have been more dissimilar; the differences were though astronomical in proportion to what we were comfortably used to but not entirely, I concede, out of place for us to keep that in mind and move on ahead. Maybe that is why it's said, never be comfortable with anything in your life. Things change, and they always will. (The point is: The present is no good, and the future is dire. Only with our memories of the past can you be at ease; all other aspects of life will ultimately let you down in one way or another.) If not, I am still as naive as I always have been.
And the past ended in the year 2000.
After that, it's a world-imposed human conundrum.
However, as the years passed, we all experienced the effects of the "change," but we were also able to capitalize on the changes and use them to our advantage. That saved us. We were able to adapt while seeking out new opportunities as we began to take advantage of the millennial years. Yet, the profound changes that the 2000s and after brought about in our lives were something we could never have predicted or imagined. Despite being unexpected and formidably challenging, the "change" or "shift" for each of us was necessary to move forward and prevail in the subsequent years.
Armstrong's departure for Delhi took a heavy toll on our friendship, as did Sunil's death. Satish and I are the only ones still here, going about our daily lives without the spiritual support of our close friends — bereft of the familiar freedom we once cherished so much and are still very nostalgic for our old way of life. Things will change — a reason enough for me not to hate but dislike it, almost intensely.
I’m not dreaming it up, barely. Nor am I implying I am getting bogged down by my own compulsions. No. Twenty-three years into the 21st century has never been a revelation of ... anything at all. Ironically, the logic of experiencing life has become a mechanical need; there is nothing more to it than being monotonous enough to continue living life this way, mechanically, that is. What does life currently have to offer? Simply being healthy could be sufficient. With the sense of ambition fading, all the thrilling rush of "great expectations" of me has likewise stopped coming.
Putting it slightly differently . . .
[We thought the 2000s: the new millennium years, would be not so different or dissimilar to the 1990s, to which we had been so accustomed.
Friendship-wise, the 1990s were a decade of comparatively more secure (and leisurely prosperity!), with the economy doing about alright - no fancy world's best monetary funds-certified figures to boot - and our joyous and peaceful haven being a much safer and generally happier place. Whatever it was, it was our small corner of the world: our backyard, our little patch. It was our comfort zone. In contrast, the 2000s and the later years saw a significant change in how we lived as terrorism rose to a new level, the economy struggled, downturns, recessions, slumps, and markets crashed—unpleasant words we became unwantedly accustomed to hearing—occurred. As technology advanced, our lives became intertwined with all kinds of technology doodah, and whatnot.
At the beginning of the decade, our lives were altering in ways that would have been unthinkable, unimaginable even; and we had to change or adapt quickly to keep up. The impending changes that came had a tremendous impact on us and our friendship. Our jobs were changing. Our homes were changing. As our social lives changed, so did our relationship as friends. It was tough to get used to a world that was dramatically different and weird compared to how it had been in the 1990s.
But as time went on, we all adapted to the new developments. We needed to. You cannot ignore it, claiming that: Oh! I'm not the right person for it, so I'll let go. And yet, as we embraced technological advancements and discovered ways to use them to improve our lives by being politically informed or being more professionally inclined: to name just two things, we saw ways to make our lives simpler, more convenient, and more enjoyable—but at the expense of undermining our earlier 1990s sensibilities as to the understanding of what life should be or how it should be as long as change happens, and it will.
And although the changes of the 2000s were—let's say—largely circumstantial but understandably authoritative, they brought about a new era of professional advancement and opportunities that would shape our future in the new millennial world. Sadly, with the trade-off of apps-led digital newness and all that digital garbage that came in the wake of globalization that we see today, that profoundly wonderful 'old world charm' is lost forever.
Anyway, I continue to blame "change" and the 21st century's perpetual inevitability of it. Hehe he he, funny! "Change" is an adamant ferocity: an inexorable savagery that has the necessary cosmic authorization to usurp the old way of life, ensuring its writ we all abide. It's an aberration of time or time anomaly that we must live with whether we like it or not. Time passes, and changes happen. When the new millennium arrived and swapped the old for the new, everything we held dear gradually changed permanently. But the truth is, I still loathe the "change" we see these days, and I know the feeling may be fiercely mutual. So be it.]
However, as the years passed, we all experienced the effects of the "change," but we were also able to capitalize on the changes and use them to our advantage. That saved us. We were able to adapt while seeking out new opportunities as we began to take advantage of the millennial years. Yet, the profound changes that the 2000s and after brought about in our lives were something we could never have predicted or imagined. Despite being unexpected and formidably challenging, the "change" or "shift" for each of us was necessary to move forward and prevail in the subsequent years.
‘sarakti jaaye hain, rukh se naqaab,Because we understood that we had a chance of a legacy to uphold, even if it was ordinarily unique, but a treasured heritage in every aspect—one that has been immortalised for the last thirty priceless years and still going strong. Yet it came at a price—after 2005, our sweet old 1990s days started to fade away and wane out of the reckoning, post the millennial outbreak of the 2000s.
aahista aahista
nikaltaa aa rahaa hai aaftab
ahistaa ahistaa’*
Armstrong's departure for Delhi took a heavy toll on our friendship, as did Sunil's death. Satish and I are the only ones still here, going about our daily lives without the spiritual support of our close friends — bereft of the familiar freedom we once cherished so much and are still very nostalgic for our old way of life. Things will change — a reason enough for me not to hate but dislike it, almost intensely.
I’m not dreaming it up, barely. Nor am I implying I am getting bogged down by my own compulsions. No. Twenty-three years into the 21st century has never been a revelation of ... anything at all. Ironically, the logic of experiencing life has become a mechanical need; there is nothing more to it than being monotonous enough to continue living life this way, mechanically, that is. What does life currently have to offer? Simply being healthy could be sufficient. With the sense of ambition fading, all the thrilling rush of "great expectations" of me has likewise stopped coming.
Putting it slightly differently . . .
[We thought the 2000s: the new millennium years, would be not so different or dissimilar to the 1990s, to which we had been so accustomed.
Friendship-wise, the 1990s were a decade of comparatively more secure (and leisurely prosperity!), with the economy doing about alright - no fancy world's best monetary funds-certified figures to boot - and our joyous and peaceful haven being a much safer and generally happier place. Whatever it was, it was our small corner of the world: our backyard, our little patch. It was our comfort zone. In contrast, the 2000s and the later years saw a significant change in how we lived as terrorism rose to a new level, the economy struggled, downturns, recessions, slumps, and markets crashed—unpleasant words we became unwantedly accustomed to hearing—occurred. As technology advanced, our lives became intertwined with all kinds of technology doodah, and whatnot.
At the beginning of the decade, our lives were altering in ways that would have been unthinkable, unimaginable even; and we had to change or adapt quickly to keep up. The impending changes that came had a tremendous impact on us and our friendship. Our jobs were changing. Our homes were changing. As our social lives changed, so did our relationship as friends. It was tough to get used to a world that was dramatically different and weird compared to how it had been in the 1990s.
But as time went on, we all adapted to the new developments. We needed to. You cannot ignore it, claiming that: Oh! I'm not the right person for it, so I'll let go. And yet, as we embraced technological advancements and discovered ways to use them to improve our lives by being politically informed or being more professionally inclined: to name just two things, we saw ways to make our lives simpler, more convenient, and more enjoyable—but at the expense of undermining our earlier 1990s sensibilities as to the understanding of what life should be or how it should be as long as change happens, and it will.
And although the changes of the 2000s were—let's say—largely circumstantial but understandably authoritative, they brought about a new era of professional advancement and opportunities that would shape our future in the new millennial world. Sadly, with the trade-off of apps-led digital newness and all that digital garbage that came in the wake of globalization that we see today, that profoundly wonderful 'old world charm' is lost forever.
Anyway, I continue to blame "change" and the 21st century's perpetual inevitability of it. Hehe he he, funny! "Change" is an adamant ferocity: an inexorable savagery that has the necessary cosmic authorization to usurp the old way of life, ensuring its writ we all abide. It's an aberration of time or time anomaly that we must live with whether we like it or not. Time passes, and changes happen. When the new millennium arrived and swapped the old for the new, everything we held dear gradually changed permanently. But the truth is, I still loathe the "change" we see these days, and I know the feeling may be fiercely mutual. So be it.]
****
‘rim jhim gire sawan,sulagh sulagh jaye mann
bheege aaj iss mausam mein,
lagi kaisi ye agan
rim-jhim gire sawan’***
In the end, Armstrong, Sunil, Satish, and I have all embraced the ‘change’ of the 2000s and were able to take advantage of the opportunities it brought. But that came at a price. All four of us went in different directions to pursue our professional goals. As a likely result, we all became different sorts of people who "changed" to a certain degree that is, I think, not quite in accord with how we had grown up together in the earlier decade, in the 1990s. Unforgettable memories still tumble down on me. We all changed as individuals as we grew older, matured, and shouldered new responsibilities that came with the new way of life we began to experience. And perhaps we are all the better for it having done so, having come this far ahead in life.
In the later years, in the last 18 years, all but one of us could no longer remain together, but we continued our lifelong friendship, keeping it alive in our hearts. Armstrong's move to Delhi (and then to Noida) in 2005 and Sunil's demise a few years later marked the end of a chapter in our idyllic life in this lonesome town called Alwal—which was once known for its plush greenery, the gentle tune of the north-westerly winds, traffic-free roads lined with large, gracious peepul and banyan trees that canopied them, clean air, clear blue skies above, and some of the most scenic expansive spaces in all of Secunderabad. In the final analysis, I still get the feeling that I really do dislike change after all. This strange feeling will, I'm sure, never pass. Let it not. I can live with that. Perhaps Satish shares my sentiments as I do on how our lives have changed over the years. But don't get me wrong: I'm as happy as can be. Given my untreated change aversion, I'm tickled pink.
As circumstances change, so do things. Changes occurred in our homes, on the highways, inside the streets, and in the gullies . . . everywhere. People changed, love changed, friends changed, and the entire Alwal town—the joy land of our friendship—changed. Is it any wonder? Although the changes that the 2000s and later years brought about were though difficult to skirt, but they ultimately had, I should say, a favourable impact on our lives. Or has it?
‘zindagi ki yehi reet haiThis is the way of life.
haar ke baad hi jeet hai
thode aansoon hai, thodi hasi
aaj gham hai toh kal hai khushi’**
(The end.)
By Arindam Moulick
Dedicated to my beloved friends, Armstrong, Satish, and late Sunil.
*‘Sarakti jaye hai...’ — a 1982 Hindi song sung by Kishore Kumar and Lata Mangeshkar
**’Zindagi ki yehi reet hai...' — a 1987 Hindi song sung by Kishore Kumar