Snehal
She walked hastily towards me, past Palika Gate No. 2 where I stood waiting for her with a smile. It was good to see an old friend. As she slammed me for being pseudo-Delhite (I didn't know the way to Jantar Mantar from Connaught Place :P) her radiance was inducing mystic energy into my system already. The physically-feeble-appearing Snehal carried a bag almost as heavy as her (Sorry Snehal :D) and so I couldn't help offering my help to carry it. On being shunted badly for such a request, I got to realize I meeting a solo-traveler-cum-adventurer! She spoke about her treks, about gruesome traveling to and fro an office on the city outskirts, yet I couldn't help myself from being amazed by that energy she carried. Searching for a snack, we took a round of CP, stood undecided outside McD for a while, but then just grabbed Uncle Chips and Pulpy Orange, walked towards the park, sitting down near a flock of pigeons, slowly turning pages of the book of our life. She talked about inspiration, about how one year back a spark inside her got ignited and she was living a dream already. I couldn't help but admire a brilliance cast on her face as she narrated her adventures, and flaunted childish curiosity for the upcoming ones. And when it was time for me to leave, I knew I'd come back that afternoon to bid her goodbye. That afternoon she gifted me a grateful smile, and she left in the auto with the last words "Take care".
Ishan
Post a just-like-old-times bro hug, he sat on my left with a wide smile. I took my seat in Block M Cafe Coffee Day at Connaught Place, watching these three notoriously engaged in private conversations already. It felt different, like meeting your childhood friends after a long time. Ishan interrogated me about how life's been, and on my answering about it being majorly "Work, Travel, Home", seemed excessively dissatisfied. He joked that either I was being too secretive, or he was not meeting the same Karan Bajaj he knew one year back. His words suddenly made me travel back in time to June 2013, and play my life in fast-forward to relive a year of multiple transformational journeys. I couldn't revert to him with logic sufficient, and yet again Ishan had jokingly said something so profound it left me reflecting and speechless. I could feel impact on him too, but the blast of life in him is just too overwhelming to extinguish, and that pulled me out from trance as we chortled secretly about indirect references to women. I could see a fighter built-in inside who'd refused to be corrupted by the system. I saw him cling to any sign of positivity around and flourish in it's local satisfaction, breaking bounds. Snehal left, and as we walked on the streets relishing the 'view', Ishan spotted the Oxford Bookstore, and upon his request we decided to visit it. An amazing new world welcomed me as I stood lost for words at such brilliance of wisdom cast in those books delicately exhibited in the shelves. Innermost desires awaken, I wanted to spend days living-breathing there lost in extracts of a million lives. As we walked along, Ishan talked about books as if they were components of his own experiences. And just then with a smile, I felt the fire of passion alight brighter in his eyes.
Himanshu
It is but difficult to digest that this commonplace looking young man sitting on your right encapsulates within him experiences that will render you speechless. That when he'd speak, each word leaves impression on the sands of your conscience, and it sounds more like the sharing an elder brother does with his young man about to enter the real ruthlessness of the world out there. Himanshu (better know to the world as 'Kalia Sir') sat without much to say, but with sharp attention to our words. It is impossible for him to speak senseless and say abstractly irrelevant material. So when he talks about dreams, passion, self-discovery, existentiality, love, failure, friendship, miracles, life, it's raw chunks of his own life and not the theory they teach in Value Education. We walked out of Cafe Coffee Day, the camera captured awesome times in pixels, and as Snehal left waving us bye, Kalia Sir gallantly blurted out "Now it's just us Laundas!" and we all broke into a much needed laughter. As he shared excerpts, I wanted to listen more, but it was when we sat by a stone boundary of small plantations by the road that old times came with their might and flooded our present. In memories Himanshu traveled back in time and place with people who made us believe in an inherent miraculous goodness. About times he'd be in pain, an incomparable loss, but the achievement of growing ahead, and an exemplary sharpness about the purpose and direction of his life now. Though I might never remember any of those names, but I'd always remember the emotion decorated on his face as he relived a memory one more time. We told him to write a book. To share these experiences with the world out there. What if a random disturbed young man derives inspiration from his experiences sharing. Or if people like Snehal life their dreams every day. After a while I heard his voice break the silence - "I am here in this moment, speaking of my life, experiences and learning, not to boast of myself, but just to relive those memories with beautiful friends, and maybe my stories will help rekindle that spark in you." He said with a smile and subtly calm wetness in his eyes.
Snehal, Ishan and Himanshu (PC: Me!)
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