Of sunny days and crimson evenings

Years have a flair for stacking up fast. To be fair, our lives are essentially about living the past. The present is but a moment, fleeting and ephemeral, and in a disturbing hurry to move past. Try holding water in a sieve and experience it inevitably drip away. For me it has always been about collecting moments, nostalgia being my eternal muse. Unlike the present, the past is always at your beck and call. Summon when in need and let the memories drown you in a haze of longing, regrets and affection. In an earlier piece of mine, “Raindrops keep falling on my head”, I had shared my musings on my favourite city, London. The year 2006 was perhaps one of the most important years of my life as I grudgingly left a great job at Shell for Masters. I arrived at the sprawling Warwick campus on October 2, 2006.

The campus, spread over 700 acres, was like a giant mural with meadows, lakes, buildings and groves. A tapestry of placid quiet, radiant hues and surreal countryside, the setting was idyllic for reflection and taxing your intellect. The night had set in when I reached the campus. Darkness, being the perfect veil, scuttled my efforts, as I peered in vain, to make sense of my new home. The best thing about studying abroad is the opportunity to interact with people from different cultures. Nothing more exciting than understanding their sensibilities and perspectives, imbibing all along the spirit of tolerance and co-existence. I had a room to myself but shared the washroom with a young guy from Beijing. He was visibly offended when I requested him to clean the washroom every time he used it. Our dorm had eight rooms, all occupied by Asians. Five Chinese, one Indian girl from Delhi and Amna, a dusky dame from Islamabad.

Food has a way of bringing people closer. I watched in awe as our Chinese friends sliced and diced their squids and beef, filling the common kitchen with sounds and aromas that tingled the senses. Eight of us made one dish each, the intent was to showcase the land we came from. And thus barriers were broken as we chatted away the evening, feasting on the buffet. Amna was tall and attractive and I found her curly hair particularly striking as they bobbed when she walked. We became friends and remain so to this day. She introduced me to a cereal, a delicious concoction of sugar and nuts. It made a great late night snack with cold milk. Tesco mart was at a 10-minute walk from my dorm and fortnightly shopping trips were both exciting and tiring as I carted the supplies all the way to my room. The first day in a superstore is an experience in itself as you seem to drown into the plethora of choice.

Maria was a lanky, pretty Russian with silky, blonde hair and a lively soul. She was my classmate and we struck instant rapport. I wanted to lose weight and found in her a devoted exercise partner. We would alternate between the gym and long jogs out in the open. I fondly remember our hour-long drifts into the purple fields of lilac that seemed to stretch into infinity. One particular afternoon is etched in my memory when we were stopped breathless by a spectacle as ethereal as it could be. The sun was peeking through the dark cloud cover and made a round, luminous spot on the green field. The light seemed to be coming from far and away and had a mystical quality to it. We sat in the spot for a while, almost in a trance, soaking up the divine light as it drenched us in a crimson warm glow.

Varsity, the university pub was about 15 minutes from my room. And proximity had its benefits. Every Thursday, our gang of eight would head for the ‘pint a pound’ bounty. Ian, Christian, Natasha, Maria, Prajina, Jasdeep, Fahd and yours truly would land around eight to be with Carlsberg. And the night would slowly drift into meandering conversations, flirty banter and issues as profound as the meaning of existence. The threesome of tobacco, perfume and brew was sweetly intoxicating, nudging out the artist, the aesthete in us. Christian, my mate from Denmark, had an air of serenity about him. Ian from the UK was gruff and shy. Prajina from India was supremely adorable and Natasha, a Brit, was capricious to say the least. We were all different, spoke different languages but felt and looked great together. Cheers to the sunny days and amber evenings with my mates from Warwick. 

Published in The Express Tribune, June 21^st, 2016.

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