A friendly shock

Years ago, my joy knew no bounds when I received an emotional letter from Maneesh, a long-lost school friend. He had discovered me by chance after a gap of about 52 years.

Half a century being a pretty long time, I was anxious to know everything about him — his appearance, where he had settled down post-retirement, what he was doing at present, how big his family was, who was doing what and a hundred more such questions. All in one go.

I tore open the envelope and noted that his writing was as beautiful as it was before. I wanted to read the long letter as quickly as possible.

Maneesh had eloquently reminisced about the good old school days and how he had tried to locate me. (Alas! There was no internet and Facebook then). He disclosed that during a visit to Lucknow, he found my surname on a name plate outside a house. It was my younger brother's house and it was he who gave Maneesh my Delhi address and phone numbers.

Maneesh, however, chose to pour his heart out on paper in a manner that moved me. But he spoke more about common friends than himself.

We were a group of four bosom friends (a widely used expression those days), the others being Narain and Mukul. Many schoolmates were envious of our strong bond and we got immortalised in a studio group photograph. It remains one of my priceless possessions.

Maneesh's references to our zestful bicycle rides to picnics revived fading memories. How I wished some time machine had transported us to those youthful days.

While mild-mannered Narain earned fame as a lawyer, frolicsome Mukul became a reputed professional. He now owned a palatial house with a couple of limousines parked outside.

Maneesh, endowed with exemplary sense of humour and modesty, had settled down with his grown-up sons.

With me as an exception, all the others continued to live in Aligarh where we grew up.

Suddenly, I developed a strong desire to meet Mukul. I wanted to see how he looked after 52 years. Was he still slim and hyperactive, always smiling, as in school? Or had he changed?

I decided to go to Aligarh and visit Maneesh and Mukul. On seeing me after such a long time, Maneesh was overjoyed. In fact, we were overwhelmed. I was bubbling with enthusiasm as we made our way to Mukul's place.

Mukul was aware of my arrival, but he did not welcome me at the front door. He called out to Maneesh from somewhere inside the house asking him to go ahead with breakfast without him. I was not happy, but had to comply.

I had not seen him yet, nor had he seen me. I had only heard him briefly from inside the bathroom, wondering what it would be like to meet after half a century. Will he come rushing and give me a bear hug in his characteristic style? Will he look into my eyes and lament at not having met all these years? Will he go on and on about our friendship?

As we were finishing breakfast, I saw Mukul rushing into the dressing room. I stood up, but he was gone. Not even a hello. I was badly shaken.

A few more seconds and Mukul asked Maneesh from inside the room to take me to his office in one of his cars where we would sit and talk.

I got Maneesh to drop me at my cousin's place instead from where I took the first available train to Delhi

Back home, I picked up the old photograph I treasured. A tear drop fell as I looked at it fondly. I wiped the picture dry, closed the album and put it back into its shelf for posterity.

Lalit Raizada is a journalist based in India.