Reuniting with old friends can be a transformative experience. It’s a chance to rediscover yourself, rekindle old bonds, and renew the joy of life. In this article, we delve into the magic of a college reunion and how it can rejuvenate your spirit.
I didn’t expect to find myself again between the familiar brick buildings and buzzing corridors of my alma mater. But there I was, surrounded by faces both changed and unchanged, feeling something, I thought had long since faded—a spark of pure, unbridled joy.
The college reunion weekend started tentatively. Awkward initial hellos, the unfamiliar familiarity, the nervous scanning of faces to match memories with current realities. But something magical happens when you’re among people who knew you before life became a series of unending responsibilities.
The totem of memories
As I looked around, I could see most of my batchmates scrambling for those totems that could strip the 17-year-old you out of the mass of time. Slowly, the genuine laughs, the spontaneous conversations, the subtle interactions work their spells.
A classmate’s unexpected embrace, a shared joke that dissolved decades in an instant, a memory recalled that made us laugh until tears came—these were the moments my inner 17-year-old was grasping at. Each conversation, each face, became more than an image; it was a reclamation of a part of myself I’d quietly misplaced.
The unexpected fountain of youth
It wasn’t about looking younger or pretending the years hadn’t happened. Instead, it was about feeling younger—truly, deeply alive. The weight of daily pressures seemed to lift, replaced by a lightness I hadn’t experienced in years. My friends—some greyer, some with more lines around their eyes—were vibrant, passionate, still dreaming.
We talked about our lives not as a series of achievements to be checked off, but as ongoing adventures. Careers, families, challenges—they were discussed with a sense of wonder rather than exhaustion. And in those conversations, I rediscovered a version of myself that hadn’t been completely buried by adult responsibilities.
By the time you reach the college campus, the metamorphosis is complete. You have passed through a tunnel of time and emerged on the other side.
Lessons from reconnection
When you reconnect with people who knew you in your early years, it can seem profound. They see through the carefully constructed exterior, remembering the dreamer, the idealist, the person full of unfiltered potential.
You also remember your insecurities, your raw, unpolished self. The campus never ages. The young ones on campus look at these 40-somethings behaving like kids and shake their heads. We know better. We know one day they will be where we are.
The temple of memory
On our last day, we found ourselves drawn to a place we had almost forgotten— a small temple that sits like a satellite to the large Sarasvati Temple, almost like the Moon to the Earth. And like the Moon, it continues to give light when it is darkest.
The familiar scent of old incense, dust, and stone wrapped around us like a forgotten embrace. Even the priest was the same, older, greyer, but there he was.
It was not just a temple. To us, it was a sanctuary of unspoken memories.
College reunion: A collective pilgrimage
We entered together, a group of friends who had once sought this place in solitude.
In our college days, this temple was a personal refuge. Each of us had visited it on our own—sometimes in moments of deep anxiety before exams, sometimes in quiet contemplation, sometimes seeking solace from personal struggles. We had never spoken about our individual pilgrimages back then, but now, standing together, the silence spoke volumes.
Some of us wept silently—not from sadness, but from an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Tears traced paths of recognition: of struggles survived, dreams pursued, challenges overcome.
I watched as each of us friends found their moment of reflection. No words were necessary. The temple, which had been our individual sanctuary, had now become a collective testament to our shared resilience.
In that moment, we weren’t just remembering our past—we were honouring our present. That small, unchanged temple stood as a metaphor for our lives: imperfect, weathered, but profoundly beautiful. Each crack, each worn step told a story of survival, of hope, of unspoken prayers answered.
A renewed perspective
I returned home, different. More present. More alive. The reunion wasn’t just about reminiscing; it was about rekindling. A reminder that joy isn’t something that fades with age—it’s something we choose to nurture.
From being a camera-shy person who rolled his eyes at people taking selfies, I have now started to open up to the idea. I understand that it is less about documenting and more about experiencing. Each image is a testament to the vibrant, curious self that was always there, waiting to be rediscovered.
