Reunion After Fifty Years: Old Friends, New Memories

After fifty years, I met BAGS (Seetharama Sarma) in London. I was returning from Belfast and reached out to him after learning he was living in London. We exchanged texts last month, and he insisted I stay with him. We agreed to meet me at Euston station. I arrived in Euston on the 15th of August. I exited the train and walked to the end of the platform.
As I approached the meeting spot, my heart raced with a mix of emotions — excitement, anxiety, and a deep sense of nostalgia. The years we seemed to fold in on themselves, collapsing the decades since we last saw each other. My mind was full of memories of our college days, the laughter we shared, and the dreams we once spoke of.
But with the excitement came a flutter of nervousness. Would we recognize each other after all this time? How much had we changed? My thoughts swirled with questions as I tried to imagine the person my friend had become, knowing I had lived a lifetime since we last met.
The anticipation was almost overwhelming. I felt joy at the thought of reconnecting and a tinge of apprehension, wondering if we would still share the same bond that once seemed unbreakable. As the moment drew closer, my anxiety peaked, and I found myself rehearsing the first words I would say, though knowing that no words could truly capture the significance of this reunion.
Then, instantly, all my worries melted away as I caught sight of him. Nothing much had changed in him. He was sporting a grey cap and had put on some weight. Despite the changes that time had etched on both our faces, there was an unmistakable familiarity — a spark in the eyes, a warmth in the smile — that instantly took me back to our younger days. The years vanished at that moment, leaving only the joy of reconnecting with someone who had once been a guide, a friend and a philosopher.
As we embraced, all the emotions I had been holding onto—excitement, anxiety, and nostalgia—fused into a profound sense of happiness and relief. Fifty years had been a brief interlude in an enduring friendship.
Talking felt natural, and the conversation flowed as we shared stories of our lives, journeys, and the paths that had led us to this moment. The decades that had separated us no longer mattered; what mattered was that we were here, together again, picking up the thread of our friendship as if it was always there.
BAGS helped me with my bags as we changed two “tube” trains to reach Hinault and walked to his house. His wife Jaya awaited us, welcoming us with a grand, sumptuous lunch.
In that moment, I realized that true friendship, even when tested by time and distance, remains a powerful and enduring bond that can be rekindled with a single smile, a warm embrace, and a shared history that only old friends can understand.