The beginning of the end

Anth ki shuruaat hamesha aise hi hoti hai...

We five came to Pune together, some twenty months back.

Literally, sitting in side-by-side compartments in the same bogie. It is another matter that three of us did not know the other two. Much amusement resulted when, after knowing each other and becoming a single family-like entity, three of us saw OURSELVES in the snaps which the other two had taken at the railway station.

Pune station saw me whipping out a cellphone and dialling a number to get the address of our hotel, while he went in half-pants to get a bottle of water, and another guy was writing down the address on a folded newspaper, and the other two were stretching their legs, which had become numb from the journey of 20 hours. Little did we know then, that we would forge such bonds with each other.

And even though two speak a bad dialect of Telugu, and one speaks Tamil, and two others, Kannada, the language was the first binding factor, which made us stay together. In the hotel accomodation, and then the company accomodation, and now in the flat we are currently in. And this has been a good reason why we don't miss Bangalore so much, because all the time, we speak in Kannada. A very close friend of mine, who visited us recently, went back happy saying that she got to speak in kannada for a full three days, which she seldom gets to do in Hyderabad.

Over time, we forged relationships with others here, and formed a boisterous group, exploring places around Pune every other weekend, to such an extent that if we think of going anywhere now, it would be a repeat. It was a tough time finding a table for lunch, because we all had to sit together. We were twelve: We five, the three of them, the symbol, the Goa-belle, the kudi-punjaban and Chechi. Others would join when we went on trips, and much fun would come.

As a group, we have covered forts (Sinhgad, Tapola-Pratapgarh), hill stations (Khandala, Lonavala, Karla Caves, Mahabaleshwar, Panchgani), beaches (Alibag, Murud-Janjira, Dive-Agar and Goa) and pilgrimages (Narayanpur Balaji, Baneshwar Ganpati, Shirdi Sai Baba). But all good things have to come to an end. And this I guess is the beginning of it.

The Goa-belle left to pursue higher studies. Her friend Varun got a transfer to Bangalore. One of those three went to California. Wedding bells are ringing for another one of those three. Kudi-Punjaban and "one of us" are in the UK. Today, we happened to sit at a very long table for snacks. And it reminded us of a time when twelve people actually sat across and cracked jokes. When we devoured plate after plate of whatever each one of us brought. When we actually checked what the others ate, so that we could bring something else, so as to not repeat a dish. When all of us ended up bringing the same dish, because nothing else was good.

I could almost hear the talk, the laughter, and the mirth. Like when we sat dining till the canteen lights went out. Like when we were the last to go out of a restaurant. Like when we saw to it that the girls went home, before walking back together. Like when ...

Omar Khayyam says in the Rubaiyat:
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

And now, he has a got a call from another company, and its an offer he can't refuse. And if he goes by the 1st, as they want him to, it will leave just the three of us here.

And that will surely be the beginning of the end. Of a vivid, vibrant, colourful chapter in our lives.

Update: Links have been removed, because the linked persons had some reservations.