We Never Change, Do We

It never ceases to astound me how prone to change we are. It's never a substantial change, barely even likely to raise an eyebrow. But the integration of such little changes over a period of time is the equivalent of an all new person. I guess that's the reason why old relatives are always surprised that the kid has grown a head taller since last year. 'O ma, koto boro hoye gecho!' and the inevitable rib-crushing hug. 'Well, d-uh!' It always seems to us. 'Come on, you didn't really expect me to grow shorter now, did you?'

Anyway, a year ago I would have flipped out, rofling and lolling if some Bihari batchmate had said 'Tere pas Toilet: New Moon hai kya?' Hell, I don't think I'd even be friends with him. But then there are always circumstances. Circumstances made Vegeta and Kakarot allies. Circumstances compelled Brendan Frasier to befriend that Egyptian warrior guy in The Mummy. (What? You expected a literary analogy? Shut up. Some things don't change.)

Then there's the singing in the bathroom. Now, I'm an avid shower-singer. I feel the acoustics are much better. They lend a smooth, baritone quality to my voice. All I really have to do is know the lyrics properly. But when it comes to singing in a choir, I was always too shy or uninterested. Now, however, I find myself joining in when some retard starts singing 'Emotional Atyachar' in the bathroom. We are joined by others and if that ain't a choir, I don't know what it is. Praise the Lord. Hallelujah. And all that.

Then there's the cacophony of inebriated fools in the corridor past midnight. I have learnt to sleep through it. The thing with these fools is, they're smart fools. They'll drink on different days in different weeks so as not to arouse suspicion and/or get caught in the act. Now, if only they'd dispose the bottles anywhere but in the dustbins on the very same corridor, I wouldn't call them fools anymore. Then there's the idiot who swept his room, and then swept the junk into the corridor and somehow managed to break the 'jhanta' and leave straws all over the place. Wait, that might've been me.

Ah well, I guess what I'm trying to say is that change is inevitable. We hear about our parents, and their college lives, and how an afternoon spent at Bijoli Grill with the 10 or so batchmates provided the ultimate bliss. And we form mental images of how things must've been in their day. Everything in black and white. All the decrepit, mouldy buildings in an elegant state of grandeur. Roads minus the dirt. Women sporting hairstyles that are imitations of those of Hollywood starlets. Somehow I always imagine that Anushka would fit in perfectly in such a scenario. Strange, isn't it?