Nothing can fully prepare you for the Tsunami of emotions that overwhelm you at the silver anniversary reunion of graduating from your boarding school.

Nothing that they teach you at school and nothing those 25 years of life after school does to you.

And so with a spring in the step, a load of anticipation of meeting batch mates since long, and a scent of excitement typical of a high school sports encounter, a motley assortment of old boys of the Class of 84 at Mayo College approached that moment of truth.

By the time you are 40 something, some call it midlife or the ‘witching hour", you have associated with groups of all variety of formations. Professional associations, Cultural and Social affiliations, Corporate and Industry groupings, Charitable NGOs, Sports Clubs and several others I am sure that intend to serve their cause well.

But if there were one association of people that is special and unique for me, it would have to be my School, College, and University alumni.

For starters, because the very premise of this togetherness is a relatively innocent phase of life spent together.

Of a time when learning together and playing together were the raison d’être. 

Money, Career and Maslows’’ Needs hierarchy had not evolved into major goals, goals mainly referred to metal and rope contraptions on either ends of a playing field and a set of desired marks on sheets of papers.

You could bond easily with 10 of your dorm mates and break bread with easy conversation in a large school mess with ever changing company.

The school scuffles and differences of opinion were short lived and did not transcend beyond where they started and ended briefly. No Carryover. The "I " factor, if it existed, was not pronounced and you could freely contribute, part take and revel in your rival teams success as much as your own.

Times were simple. Perhaps they still are for some and a reunion is a great way to reconnect.

And so it was.

Although as class strengths go, 100 odd seemed a modest quantum; but given that we converged from all different continents and from far corners within India, and were able to take time out from our busy work lives, parenting and ailing parent responsibilities, it was encouraging to see a good majority turn up for this watershed event.

Some with change pronounced around the waistline and the receding crop on their crowns.

Some near well preserved and others with tell tale signs of times.

Some whose ships have come in and others who are still at high seas.  I had the privilege of meeting some of the most interesting 40 something’s who were still figuring out what to do with their lives.

Despite such visible and physical change what remained pleasantly constant was inherent nature.

The jokers amongst us persevered, the gentlemen remained faithfully so and the rogues continued to rock on.

Despite the diverse variety of paths our lives took after school, akin to the 360-degree dispersion of sunrays, we were able to almost instantly come back to a common point from where we started out at school.

Picking up from exactly where we left off, 25 years disappeared into yesterday!

It was of little relevance that some of us commanded a battalion of uniformed servicemen, yet others could relax over huge passive incomes and do what pleases them to fill up days, and still others continue to toil through the times trying to firefight everything that 21^st century work life throws at you with few welcome exceptions.

Some well and truly arrived in their professions and others trying to make sense of the journey so far and still exploring their calling.

Reunion however seemed an ultimate leveler. The back slapping camaraderie and genuine bonhomie was at once heartwarming, familiar, and reassuring.

" You can understand and relate to most people better if you look at them- no matter how old or impressive they may be- as if they are children. For most of us never grow up or mature all that much – we simply grow taller. O, to be sure we laugh less and play less and wear uncomfortable disguises like adults, but beneath the costume is the child we always are, whose needs are simple, whose daily life is still best described by fairy tales."- Leo Rosten

The turn back to a bunch of school kids was almost instant and complete.

The nostalgic walk around campus opened the floodgates of memories, the stop by the academic block and the plucking from the Tamarind tree that was once forbidden, was now indulged in with great fanfare and the meager pickings shared with the reverence of a holy offering.

The Senior and Middle Mess where a second helping of desert was a big deal and blazer pockets bore mute witness to smuggled parathas and pickles for a late night treat after lights out.

The houses (residences with dormitories) retained their old world grandeur of Rajasthani Palaces built in red stone and ornate domes and porches. The inner dormitories and rooms had upgraded to keep up with modern amenities and utilities, but largely the culture and ethos of a boarding house was intact.

The countless anecdotes, bloopers, praise, and digs brought to life the dormitories as we traced our respective places, wardrobes, kit rooms and such.

The house lawns where the occasional round of croquet was enjoyed, the foyer where endless improvised games were played, slow cycling, rounders, impromptu cricket, and oh! The common room. An institution in itself.  A place where a tried pair of legs from the numerous playing fields could relax and rejuvenate, listen to soothing music and at other times the place to party, an escape from the pressures of keeping up the grades and a break from the routine discipline.

Fortunately the Ipods and MP4s were yet to be invented then and so everyone could hear the same number being played out loud and sometimes join in the therapeutic sing along.

As a result of this our batch could instantly identify with a signature collection of music from our vintage in a specially cut souvenir disc with the college crest for cover. A wickedly nostalgic gift from one amongst us.

There was more! Presidents awardee designed Safa that’s a standard gear for the annual function PG, a group photo taken at one of the vantage spots of Main Building and developed and framed in a tastefully designed silver frame, a winter golf jacket, a sport singlet, straw hat with school colors, and carry bags all with subtle placements of the School Crest, Colors, and the "Class" of 84.

And a few souvenirs that came spontaneous, like hoarse voices and a few bruised knees, a good number turned up for an early morning hockey encounter, of their own volition despite the late night partying and hangovers to put up a respectable 2-1 loss over present boys with over 2 decades of fitness levels between us. Cricket outing of the previous morning continued to provide that great feeling of being a team. There is something special about the bonding in a boarding school, you can take a student out of Mayo but even 25 years on, you cannot take Mayo out of them.

One nights dinner invitees included our since retired teachers and staff who were further proof of the time that was, as anecdotes came pouring out, thoughtful speeches and there was a lot said and some remained unsaid including a touching speech from our favorite Geography teacher that was circulated by email post reunion.

It takes good grapes to turn into good wine. And the hearts were full of hope to catch that glimpse of approval from frail septuagenarian teachers that their work in progress was looking good, while still being work in progress!

There was gratitude towards many for their patience perseverance and faith that better will become of us, and through the exasperation and strict discipline of others, can also come about some good.

The other night was our own class of 84 outing and we let it rip.  Recollections of times only we shared within our class rooms, dormitories, mess, pavilions, interspersed with many a raised toast and dancing into the late hours.  The energy and bonhomie was enough to bring the house down on occasion.

The grandiose of a Mayo PG function has to be experienced more than can be explained.

The majestic main building, the imposing clock tower, the welcoming archways, the grand assembly hall where we got to listen through the silence and recall the morning prayers and announcements, and numerous monuments of heritage and legacy that dot the manicured campus.

The exhibition Polo match, the pyrotechnics display, the school band, the eco friendly Golf course meet, the trip to Brahma temple, souvenir and ethnic chic shopping paradise of Pushkar street markets, in the very little free time from a packed lineup between breakfast and gala dinners over 3 days.

The 3 days of grand celebrations had all the hues of a Great Indian wedding and a SuperHit Indian Cinema potboiler rolled into one.

There was the song and dance, endless array of delectable cuisine, continuous chatter and banter, spirited sporting meets, comedy, thrill, suspense, and more.

Remembrance of those batch mates and teachers who passed away brought the tinge of sadness and somber, while one batch mate got held up at the airport in the midst of the Thai coup to make it in the farewell moments of the reunion, yet another bloke had an accident needing medical attention, and one dutiful son staying back with his recuperating parent to make it to the event in the end.

Event management in India is taken to an art form, and the bar keeps rising.  One can recall large weddings and other past events would need an ample dose of chaos and improvisation even a heave-a-ho from guests to finally complete what would then be described as a successful event. Not unlike a microcosm of how the nation itself functions to date with all its anomalies.

But an entire army of event management professionals, service providers, and transformation of the industry as a whole have left very little to chance and last minute runabouts.

Majorly organized by a bunch of sporting blokes amongst us, in closer proximity to the epicenter of all the action, to their credit the planning was clockwork, the implementation was smooth, and more importantly the blokes didn’t seem like the harrowed father of the bride, but more like the grooms rowdier buddies and enjoying every bit of it.

Certainly a milestone of notability in the lengthening halls of memory. Milestone 25 on the highway of life.

Make that a High Point.

And for some of our batch mates who could only make it in spirit or in voice calls, we missed you.

A school reunion is your official license to reflect back to that special time, I guess weddings and family reunions over the big festival are another. Lets try and grab those rare and far between opportunities to connect with ourselves. We owe it to ourselves.

Siblings and classmates are your best connection to the better times of the past and the people more likely to form your comfort zone towards the evening of life. That’s about the time when you do the funky birdie dance on your 50^th reunion lol.

As a passionate and grateful group of batch mates we pooled in resources to launch an endowment fund aimed at catalyzing excellence in academics, sports, and extracurricular, giving meaning and purpose beyond enjoying ourselves at the reunion.

Towards the end of what was physically and mentally exhausting yet rejuvenating and a kaleidoscope of experience what stood out was foremost a sense of gratitude towards our parents for among the better gifts of a Mayo education, towards our teachers for whatever good they could imbibe in us and towards my dearest class of 84 for the good fortune to travel along the same space and time, for being the family we were within the boarding school dormitories and the band of brothers we remain.

God bless you all. And God bless Mayo.

-Sanjay Raj Guru

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