This is my 22 month old nephew, Narresh. He is the first baby I held in my arms feeling so attached to. The first baby I fed. The first baby I worked so hard to make myself familiar to him. Hands down, he’s my most favorite baby in this entire universe put together at this moment. He is going to grow up into a sweaty little school goer yet I’m gonna love him like I do now. He is going to turn into an annoying teenager rebelling against all odds in this world, yet I’m gonna be advocating for his school excursion permission to his mother.
It’s true that seeing the world from a kid’s eyes is more beautiful than anything else. You start to forget the imperfect you because everything else seems perfect in the incomprehensible words formed by the kid.
So Ash came over for a short visit and we went on a nostalgia walk in ACS. It is amazing how having a company makes a usual drive unusual. I have been driving all over Sitiawan ever since my dad gave me the liberty of having his new car. I swear I have never felt nostalgic at all to drive along Kg. Koh where I used to go to school for 11 years or the roads I went on the bike with my friends. There is no emotional connection at all. Until your high school best friend comes over and you visit your old teachers together. It’s beyond words could explain when you hug your teacher and have them recollect those days. It’s even beyond words when they address your batch as their babies and you admitting that their classes were your favorite.
Seven years since I graduated from my high school. The huge ass old trees are no more. There are new buildings. The new paint is horrible. But the sentiments remain the same. Some things are insanely unchanged. For instance the disgusting looking old tiles in the toilets, the vanity mirror we used to torture 283748937848 times a day, the corridors, the balcony, the walkways, the bus bay, the canteen benches etc. This is the fortunate bit of semi-government schools, where we’re not provided with enough fund so we reuse our tables and chairs till they can’t be repaired anymore. There is no room for much changes to the infrastructure so they remain the same. The memories are easier to withhold.
The classroom you peeked at your best friend having a date with her then boyfriend. The balcony you stood all the time to chat with your batchmates from different classes. The walkway you had your crush stopping you to talk under the pretense of a dare by his friends. The stairway steps you had your own first dates. The bus bay you waited for your bus rides. The school hall stage you danced. The canteen bench you hogged with your friends. The toilet walls you had to paint white to erase your name from. The public telephone you used to make prank calls. The school square you spent more hours than in the classrooms.
If you happen to be reading this, please do yourself a favor by paying a visit to your school, be it the primary, middle or high school. Grab a few friends you know for more than eight years, take loads of pictures, sit and talk about past sweet nothings. It will do you so much of good.
Past few weeks had been neuroses filled, that I choose not to talk about; write about; cry about – anymore. Some made me extremely sad, some extremely mad. Some made me think and overthink. Some made me stand up for myself and stop from being taken advantage of emotionally, in the name of friendship. Some gave me revelations about what I will never be involved with again. And some just pure magical happiness, that I want to contain within myself.
I can’t think, you give me thoughts. I can’t write, you hand me dictionaries. I’m sad, you give me smiles. I wan’t you, you want me to want you.