Long-lost childhood friends, separated by time, gravity, and unknown geographic locations, as it were, have been persistently the one thing that has grieved me the most. More than thirty-six summers have passed since Raju and I last spoke, and even longer since my last contact with Poonam, Ruby, Sushila, and other dear friends.
I wonder where they are and what they have been doing over the years. That's decades, my God, not years, and the ultimate realization that it's been that long is almost surreal. So long ago. I've wanted to get in touch with them for a very long time, but I've never gotten around to it because, God knows, it's an unattainable goal, and I have no idea where to begin. But I will keep trying, not give up until the day I draw my last breath. If I get to meet them, it will be the most rewarding discovery of my life.
Aside from scouring social media sites, I tried asking a few folks from my earlier days, but I couldn't do anything that would bring me to my old friends I desperately, rather urgently, wanted to meet. Where was I supposed to look for them? All those years went by pretty quickly. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find them. Life's gotten rather complicated, hinging on unsustainable technology take-over of human-made systems that have lured us into the intricate trap of goals, achievements, and money, unlike the good old days when all we had to do was grow up and be happy. Nothing in the world seems fascinating anymore when your friends are gone, and happiness is hard to come by when one human is hell-bent on (mortally) hurting another. Have you ever noticed that the world seems less charming when your friends aren't around? There may be the Taj Mahal, the Colosseum, Lake Baikal in Siberia, the glaciers of Antarctica, the moon, the stars, and many other things that amaze you, but all those things become insignificant when you lose your friends. Those wonders don't interest you as much as they used to when you had friends with you to marvel at them.
Things have changed. Everything has changed and is no longer ordinary. But I wish I could find a way to remind each other of our shared childhood past, no matter where we are in the world; it would be a great opportunity if we could see each other and relive our old days, wouldn't it?
I purposely have four or five worthy friends only. They have been with me for a long time, and I am with them. We share a social bond forged through sometimes sarcastic, sometimes sober fun, pursuits of happiness, and conversations over biryani at lunch or chai in the evening. They are trustworthy; we can even go as far as babysitting one another. A few choose to stay as familiar acquaintances, coming and going out of the social circle as they do. Still, I remind myself that acquaintances and friends may go on different paths but run on parallel lines, so both groups work, as it were. Thanks to social media and WhatsApp messaging, they are just a phone call or a line of message away. I hold them in high regard.
Aside from scouring social media sites, I tried asking a few folks from my earlier days, but I couldn't do anything that would bring me to my old friends I desperately, rather urgently, wanted to meet. Where was I supposed to look for them? All those years went by pretty quickly. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find them. Life's gotten rather complicated, hinging on unsustainable technology take-over of human-made systems that have lured us into the intricate trap of goals, achievements, and money, unlike the good old days when all we had to do was grow up and be happy. Nothing in the world seems fascinating anymore when your friends are gone, and happiness is hard to come by when one human is hell-bent on (mortally) hurting another. Have you ever noticed that the world seems less charming when your friends aren't around? There may be the Taj Mahal, the Colosseum, Lake Baikal in Siberia, the glaciers of Antarctica, the moon, the stars, and many other things that amaze you, but all those things become insignificant when you lose your friends. Those wonders don't interest you as much as they used to when you had friends with you to marvel at them.
Things have changed. Everything has changed and is no longer ordinary. But I wish I could find a way to remind each other of our shared childhood past, no matter where we are in the world; it would be a great opportunity if we could see each other and relive our old days, wouldn't it?
I purposely have four or five worthy friends only. They have been with me for a long time, and I am with them. We share a social bond forged through sometimes sarcastic, sometimes sober fun, pursuits of happiness, and conversations over biryani at lunch or chai in the evening. They are trustworthy; we can even go as far as babysitting one another. A few choose to stay as familiar acquaintances, coming and going out of the social circle as they do. Still, I remind myself that acquaintances and friends may go on different paths but run on parallel lines, so both groups work, as it were. Thanks to social media and WhatsApp messaging, they are just a phone call or a line of message away. I hold them in high regard.
**
(But I'm aware I have lost my childhood friends. Still, I can't help thinking I have not lost them yet. I might find them one day. One of these days, I should head out to find them, wherever they may be, any place they are. I can't wait to see my beloved friends again.)**
When the Hindi action-drama film Ghulami came out in 1985, it immediately became a favourite. It lingered in our minds long after we saw it for the first time at Manorajan, our go-to open-air movie theatre, where we watched movies of all genres, including vernacular, English, and foreign language films. Even the big entertainment films of the ‘70s and '80s, like Shaan, Trishul, Laawaris, Satte Pe Satta, Kabhie Kabhie, Silsila, Noorie, Sanam Teri Kasam, Yeh Wada Raha, Zamaane Ko Dikhana Hai, Hum Kisise Kum Naheen, Betaab, and Naseeb, had much more star power than any off-beat arthouse film could excite youngsters; Saaransh, for example, was undoubtedly not just a good but an outstanding arthouse film, but given our youngish predilection for the dhoom-dhadhaka element coupled with the song and dance numbers in films like Disco Dancer, Coolie, Dostana, Ram Balram, Desh Premi, Kudrat, Prem Rog, Tohfa, Ram Teri Ganga Maili, or Pataal Bhairavi, we wanted it to be all that and more, with Amitabh Bachchan, Shashi Kapoor, Shatrughan Sinha, Rishi Kapoor, Jeetendra, and Dharmendra being our all-time faves at the time. And they continue to be so, even though these remarkable actors are not much in the reckoning anymore, with Shashi and Rishi Kapoor having passed away.
The film Ghulami was at once maundering and intensely emotionally violent, full of bloodletting and great acting. Among its songs, especially “Zeehale Muskin Makun ba-Ranjish…” and “Mere Peeko Pawan…” are two of the most heart-wrenching musical compositions that elevate moments of wonder and admiration, leaving a lasting impression on us friends. Raju particularly liked the actor Mithun Chakraborty’s exuberant acting style in the movie, echoing my views exactly: I felt his unique timing was impeccable. Depicting the caste and feudal system in the north Indian state of Rajasthan, dominated by a wealthy landlord who harbours deep-rooted caste prejudices against farmers in particular and peasants in general, the film is a genuine wonder. Regretfully, Mithun Chakraborty and Reena Roy never took home any award for their performances in the movie despite their superb character portrayals and acting prowess. That’s a major lapse. “Koi shak?”
We would discuss movies for hours on end. Movies that weren't the typically entertaining Hindi flicks we loved to watch at the Army-maintained open-air theatre or OAT. As school-going students, however, we also enjoyed watching what used to be called "art cinema." Every other year, the much-loved Doordarshan channel aired brilliant movies such as Bawarchi, Golmaal, Anand, Baton Baton Main, Choti Si Baat, Rajnigandha, Nadiya Ke Pyaar, Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro, Saagar, Chashme Badoor, and Chitchor. I remember how much fun Raju and I would have watching movies together on Sunday nights in the 1980s, like Love in Tokyo, Love in Shimla, Kashmir Ki Kali, Kati Patang, An Evening in Paris, Phir Wohi Dil Laya Hoon, Safar, Amar Prem, Don, Johny Mera Naam, and many more, including many television shows we adored like Yeh jo Hai Zindagi, Darpan, Khandaan, Hum Log, Nukkad, Neev, Star Trek, Different Strokes, Rajani, Buniyaad, Paying Guest, Chitrahaar, Katha Sagar... the list is endless. Doordarshan, the only television network station of its time, used to broadcast unforgettable TV shows that brought great joy to everyone. Doordarshan was the golden era of television.
When Raju and I first watched Pather Panchali (Song of the Little Road), one of Satyajit Ray's masterpieces depicting a naturalistic portrait of rural life in Bengal, I remember being struck by the bleak poetry of the movie. While I watched, I recall being tearful by the hardships "Apu and his family" faced at their crumbling home. But Apu and Durga were content with their life in the rural village, with all their mischief, discoveries, and joys. But the ultimate tragedy that displaces the family was not far behind, particularly after Apu's sister Durga's passing away.
Among the most vividly remembered is a scene where the father comes to the hamlet bearing gifts for Apu and Durga, and the mother tells him their daughter has died suddenly. That scene is among the most iconic cinematic moments in global movie history. At that point, my eyes welled up with tears. Raju was also visibly moved by the power of that scene.
A month later, at Raju's place, we watched Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne, a fantasy adventure comedy film, another of Ray's immersive cinematic masterpieces. Raju would yell out "HUNDI... SHUNDI…" during our beloved cricket matches, which lasted from mid-afternoon till sundown, much like the two movie characters would scream when they were about to disappear. Seeing Raju's antics would make us all laugh out loud.
**
Global migrations, xenophobia, terrorism, and climate warming are only a handful of issues that humanity will forever be troubled with for the rest of its time on the planet. Yes, we are all numbered, marked for removal as a species from this beleaguered planet. The "oversaturated" world will never be at peace with itself because there is no peace.People's lives have become interwoven with data, security, and surveillance capitalism — all by-products of the globalization, if you will, of the economies around the world. Throw the words "cutting-edge," "leading-edge," and "path-breaking," and now the word so universally ringing "digital" into the frenetic mix, and what we get is an agile, tech-savvy, and fast-paced environment where we must embrace change and disruption continuously. Human existence has become replete with such disconcerting latitudes nowadays that it's OK not to get worried about anything because it's considered old-fashioned at the risk of sounding like a down-and-out elderly who is on his way out of this world anyway, so why pay heed to such a waste of time. It's an AI-defined credo everyone should live by in the twenty-first century and beyond, lest you experience defeat or be labelled a loser. Given our shared future, you have no choice but to "automate" yourself: Subsume to the domination (or admonition?) of technology and machines.
People used to go out to gather berries, ferns, and wildflowers or to catch a glimpse of birds like sparrows, crows, or even the rare pigeon, which was an infrequent sight in those days. Today, however, the pigeon population has increased so much that the entire town of Alwal (and the whole city) has become completely overrun with these tubby, menacing birds, which pose a threat to human health and endanger the local ecosystem of other birds.
Decades of defacing—humankind's relentless march forward to carry out 'all-round development' in cities and villages, not to mention the clear and present danger of global climate change, all those beautiful old-fashioned moments of love and leisure are lost forever.
Memories endure eternally
At the moment, I am bouncing around, so to speak, like the last pea in an oversized tin can. That's life, I suppose. Tangled undergrowth almost as high as my head surrounds the charming paths of my earlier life in our beautiful, unforgettable Trishul Park, our lost childhood Eden that was still there when I last saw it: now amidst the pale ruins of its pristine former glory. But everything has changed there since then. The old charming past has given way to the new high-octane present. That golden era is not going to come back, ever.
// Naam Gum Jayega, Chehra Yeh Badal Jayega
Meri Awaaz Hi Pehchaan Hain, Gar Yaad Rahe //
(The End.)
By Arindam Moulick
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