Old Sepia Pages

13. laughter

19th august, monday, 2019

dear diary,

Today was drowned in happiness. In our theatre practice, we did a bonding exercise. We were paired with people and in under a minute had to try to know as much about them as we could, and then we had to act like them. Our seniors could ask us anything about our partners.

So I got partnered with Neha. We all got to know a lot about each other.

We've been told to prepare a play without the help of our seniors, something that the freshers do each year. We stay till late in college, working on it. It's wonderful to put your minds to something together, have discussions and be appreciated. After the practice, we steal iced-tea (nope, I'm the only one who does that) and watch the sunset and dragonflies flitting about in the football field.

This started 3 days ago, and it was an ice-breaker for us. I don't think anything bonds people more than putting their creative energies together into something. I actually know the names of everyone now.

In the evening today, I climbed a tree that's in our meeting space. I must have been feeling super comfortable with these people, and perhaps bubbling with excitement, because I just went up to a branch I could stand on and started dancing. It had them in splits. I don't know what exactly they were finding funny, it honestly wasn't, but they wanted me to do it more and I did because finally, after a very long time, I was experiencing one of those moments where I was just...me. I was doing what came to my mind without a filter, without calculating what effect it would have, what it would make them think. I wasn't planning what to do to appear cool. I just was. I allowed my mood to take over me.

I feel stupid thinking about how I was planning to tell made-up stories about myself to appear cool. That's not who I am. I don't need to resort to things like that.

And when I saw them all making videos of me and posting them online, and laughing, for a minute I felt like I never had lost myself. Like my fear of losing my identity was unfounded. Like I always was this way; maybe no situation arose to draw that out of me. Like I always will be who I am. Like bad times don't change who you are at the very core. 

I know that the second and third years of college won't be the same. Things will get tougher. But I do hope I get to make memories once more. And if things have to change, I hope I leave this college before that because I don't want my good memories to get buried under bad ones again, like in school. 

I do plan on leaving, to be honest. I don't see myself going anywhere if I do this course, and that too from here. 

After the evening practice, I came home with Jhanky, who, by the way, takes the same route home that I do. To get to the metro station first, five of us piled up into the auto which usually has a capacity for 3. I was lying across the laps of my friends, wearing my chappals on my hand, waving and screaming at people on the road. Jhanky and I were chilling on the floor of the train. Our clothes were caked with dried mud, our chappals were off, I was wearing my specs upside down, we were eating, and we were guffawing for no reason. Everything was funny and I loved everyone at that moment.

I told her about how one time in school, my English teacher Roma had made me write an apology letter for laughing too much in class and that I wrote that I had escaped from an asylum and was on medication for craziness, and that laughter was infectious etc. and that at the end of the letter, I didn't even say that I won't do it again. I was taken to the vice-principal for this stunt, where I started laughing again.

Since she's in the poetry club too, a few days ago, we went for a writing competition together. She found a guy cute and I called out to him and told him as much. He smiled. I swear I was blown away by that smile. I don't know why I did not approach him afterward. I should have.

This one girl, Manaam, who is in the poetry club too, said that she found me fun. This is the best part about confidence—once you have it, it reflects in everything you do. Theatre is pretty powerful, if you ask me. You use poetry, music, dance and acting together to convey a message. What could be more exciting than being in a group of all kinds of artists? What could be more exciting than getting to try things that challenge you? And I've also come to realize that all art is connected—and that acting, by putting me in the shoes of a character and requiring me to portray the emotion felt, will help me write better.

I was thinking about Mago recently. I haven't been in touch with her for the past one-and-a-half years. She dropped out of school and was preparing for CLAT. The last time I met her was on my birthday in 11th. Ever since her mom found out that she was bi, she got off social media. I have no idea where she is now. I understand that she doesn't want to use the phone, and that she finds it exhausting to keep up with friends all the time and that it doesn't mean she doesn't love them. But it would be good to hear a 'hello' once in a while.

It's not every day that you find people who inspire you, and if you do, you need to keep them close. So I'm gonna keep looking for her. And my arms will always be open for Mago, but my heart no longer aches for her. Others are starting to fill the gap now. I wonder, still, if there will ever come a time when I forget her completely. I don't think I will.

❄