It was the usual fellowship sitting pattern. On the floor, in a circle, some lying, others stretching. The only face that registered was that of Rahul, his usual self. Rest were still profile photos sticking out of resumes - god knows how many times i had browsed through those in search of indications as to who will make jam better over selling vegetables. The journey and the decision preceding to bring me there was by no means less eventful. Besides the venue was a modest but warm training centre in that city of mine. How will my palms walk the old city streets this time without being held, will my feet be able to bear the melancholy when it touches the surface of Badi Lake, will my eyes be able to behold the beauty across the Gangaur Ghat without that heart beating by my side, will Jagdish temple forgive me for bringing in one heart instead of two this time ... I almost prayed that the schedule be tight and there be no time to venture out. Thank God for Rahul and Nikita, soon to join. I stepped into the circle and took a place.
And as the day progressed; the inhibitions cleared making way for the sunshine just like that. May be it was the dejavu of the set-up, may be it was the 16 of them and their uncanny similarity to my own batch mates - someone's mannerism reminded of Rupal, someone's one liners brought back Akshay's humour, someone had Vasu's eyes and someone went into his mindspace like Saurabh would. The resumes and faces begun to merge. Should i be strict and remain an outsider? Should i be overfriendly to become the 17th co-fellow? Build a wall or break it? Act 20 or 40? ... and then i halted the clutter. When am i going to stop assuming the other side and just be. So i stopped and it was a smooth ride thereafter. Days flew past. As the training progressed, i saw them emerge. From reluctant hesitance to shy approaches, to sleepless chattering till the budding signs of impending friendships amongst them. They were becoming a fellowship band. How amazing is this format of bringing complete strangers and putting them through a sequence of experiences ... almost always works! And in my head and heart, they were removed from the associations initially made. 16 individuals with their own merits and flaws, and on their own accords now, equals. Could not have asked for a better group. And one more time i realized how easy it is to love. How i am at my best when i love. I want to paint again, read another book, write a piece, listen to Hemant's hauntingly sad one without remorse and walk aimlessly in the rain. No matter the palm, feet, eyes or heart are solitary. Thank you India Fellows ... you have no idea how much you did by being you.
The thing about this role, like it is with most things precious, is that it has the potential to give extreme joy as well as intense hurt at the same time. My mind goes back to the activity with Manali on the 2nd day of the training. The fellows are indeed the fruits and birds of the tree. And as they grow and i step back hoping to become redundant - the joy and hurt rises proportionately ...
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The euphoria of the 14 days settles, i venture out for another wander to yet another known city of mine. The ipod collection needs refreshing. Where is that folder of Gurudutt's songs gone. Is this bag good enough to hold up against the rain. Can i reduce another pair of clothes to make it lighter. Why am i even going to this one. May be i do not know anymore how to be without wandering. May be i do not know anymore what to do if not wander. I have never before felt so tired at the start of a trip ... never so old.
And as the day progressed; the inhibitions cleared making way for the sunshine just like that. May be it was the dejavu of the set-up, may be it was the 16 of them and their uncanny similarity to my own batch mates - someone's mannerism reminded of Rupal, someone's one liners brought back Akshay's humour, someone had Vasu's eyes and someone went into his mindspace like Saurabh would. The resumes and faces begun to merge. Should i be strict and remain an outsider? Should i be overfriendly to become the 17th co-fellow? Build a wall or break it? Act 20 or 40? ... and then i halted the clutter. When am i going to stop assuming the other side and just be. So i stopped and it was a smooth ride thereafter. Days flew past. As the training progressed, i saw them emerge. From reluctant hesitance to shy approaches, to sleepless chattering till the budding signs of impending friendships amongst them. They were becoming a fellowship band. How amazing is this format of bringing complete strangers and putting them through a sequence of experiences ... almost always works! And in my head and heart, they were removed from the associations initially made. 16 individuals with their own merits and flaws, and on their own accords now, equals. Could not have asked for a better group. And one more time i realized how easy it is to love. How i am at my best when i love. I want to paint again, read another book, write a piece, listen to Hemant's hauntingly sad one without remorse and walk aimlessly in the rain. No matter the palm, feet, eyes or heart are solitary. Thank you India Fellows ... you have no idea how much you did by being you.
The thing about this role, like it is with most things precious, is that it has the potential to give extreme joy as well as intense hurt at the same time. My mind goes back to the activity with Manali on the 2nd day of the training. The fellows are indeed the fruits and birds of the tree. And as they grow and i step back hoping to become redundant - the joy and hurt rises proportionately ...
The euphoria of the 14 days settles, i venture out for another wander to yet another known city of mine. The ipod collection needs refreshing. Where is that folder of Gurudutt's songs gone. Is this bag good enough to hold up against the rain. Can i reduce another pair of clothes to make it lighter. Why am i even going to this one. May be i do not know anymore how to be without wandering. May be i do not know anymore what to do if not wander. I have never before felt so tired at the start of a trip ... never so old.
