We always wanted to meet
Greet each other in the same old tone,
Hurling careless, loving curses.
With soft whispers of naughty remembrances.
Alas, the pathetic push & pull of life;
Dust winds of new wants and desires,
Sent that old group photograph,
Back into the backyard;
Full of old trunks and hold-all.

We met after years.
We knew where the old wretched keys are,
It took a while, though
To unlock the unattended, rusted, beaten lock.

Some could recollect faces, but had no name;
Some didn’t even remember names!
But one small mention,
And the same face became a giant screen!
Images and pictures slid by in a jiffy,
Like an old Eastman colour movie trailer.

It was a short time, together
But time was well lived.
We shared, smiled and shouted
Laughed, sighed and whispered.
At the end of the evening,
We stood for a moment,
And made a promise, again.
To try to keep the lights on
Of our backyard;
To keep wiping off dust,

From that old group photograph.

– Kanishka Mallick (1996 Batch)

This article is a work by Kanishka Mallick. This content has been reproduced from a blog posted by him on December 06, 2014. Here is the link to the original post.


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