We are nostalgia
old friends who go back a long, long way,
raw-boned and scrawny,
barely out of our teens,
a motley bunch
a motley bunch
in pursuit of a master's degree
in that cold, pine-needled land across the state
because ours didn't have
a postgraduate setup then.
Coping with study stress, cultural divides
and bouts of homesickness,
and bouts of homesickness,
we sealed strong bonds at Mayurbhanj, Long View, and
Bijni,
over guitar sing-alongs, dinners, socials, and picnics
out in the wilds where the boys would disappear
into the bushes (for Dutch courage)
into the bushes (for Dutch courage)
before asking the girls for a dance,
and complain when the girls wouldn't oblige
but declare it time to get back to the hostel!
but declare it time to get back to the hostel!
Vacation time, homeward bound,
early morning risings to catch the hired bus,
long hours on winding mountain roads,
stopping for meals at little shacks,
rewinding cassette reels with a ball pen,
early morning risings to catch the hired bus,
long hours on winding mountain roads,
stopping for meals at little shacks,
rewinding cassette reels with a ball pen,
nodding off on one another's shoulders,
promises to stay in touch.
Thirty odd years down the line,
in varying positions of power at work
we never dreamt to attain,
old friends meet and greet again
at funerals and at weddings.
So much history forged together,
So much history forged together,
yes, my friend, we are nostalgia.