As the college comes to an end, nostalgia is expected. But when you ask people to scribble in the Class of 2016 Yearbook, beans are spilled, the town is painted red, inside jokes come out, unheard of friendships speak tons in 100 characters, emotions are unleashed!
As is human nature, each person forms an opinion of others. Some you know inside-out (my GANG members are laughing at this double entendre), while some people are a 50 shades of surprise. Sometimes you read between lines and realize a conversation some x months ago in some y context had some z meaning. Whereas most of the times, you know where you got your hands dirty from and that your partners-in-crime are just airing your dirty laundry in public :P Even if you or your friends aren't involved, but your crushes are, your brain cells are so active you'll just read the entire book of testimonials and connect any and every dots.
You start seeing people in a new light. Like a guy seen as a man of few words is really an encyclopedia on Rock music. Or a guy I knew as a tough task master, focussed on work work work, has a romantic side.
And then you see yourself through others' eyes. Boy o' boy! You and your close friends are the wild animals who have seen each other naked in the field (well, figuratively). They know your harkartein, they know your takia-kalam, they know your soch-vichar. And you too. So you are mentally prepared for whatever comes out of their "shabdo ki pichkari". And they too.
But when rest of the junta writes about you, many different chemical reactions take place in your "khali-dimaag-shaitan-ka-ghar" :P And when your friends read out stuff written for you, the "chamak" on their chehre only indicates a night long session of leg-pulling and assumptions and conclusions and predictions and endless laughter.
So in the process of creating memories, we create memories.
You start seeing people in a new light. Like a guy seen as a man of few words is really an encyclopedia on Rock music. Or a guy I knew as a tough task master, focussed on work work work, has a romantic side.
And then you see yourself through others' eyes. Boy o' boy! You and your close friends are the wild animals who have seen each other naked in the field (well, figuratively). They know your harkartein, they know your takia-kalam, they know your soch-vichar. And you too. So you are mentally prepared for whatever comes out of their "shabdo ki pichkari". And they too.
But when rest of the junta writes about you, many different chemical reactions take place in your "khali-dimaag-shaitan-ka-ghar" :P And when your friends read out stuff written for you, the "chamak" on their chehre only indicates a night long session of leg-pulling and assumptions and conclusions and predictions and endless laughter.
So in the process of creating memories, we create memories.
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