When the Breeze Brought Back a Friend

    🌿 When the Breeze Brought Back a Friend

                                      A nostalgic reflection on friendship, time, and unexpected reunions

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🪴 Balcony, Breeze, and Bees

There’s something magical about a weekend afternoon. Especially when you’re sitting in your balcony, wrapped in the soft hum of a garden that’s alive — buzzing bees, nosy butterflies, and overconfident squirrels treating your guava tree like it’s theirs.

After lunch, the swing chair becomes a portal. The breeze tugs at your thoughts, your body relaxes, and your mind… well, your mind travels. Not forward — but backward.

So come, sit with me. Close your eyes. Hear the bees hop from hibiscus to jasmine. Somewhere nearby, a bird composes a melody. And if you’re really quiet, you’ll hear laughter — not today’s, but from years ago.

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💬 The Friendships We Thought Would Last Forever

There was a time when we thought our school best friends would be part of our forever. That we’d always call, always meet, and never lose touch. We promised to attend each other’s weddings, name our kids after each other, maybe even grow old in the same colony.

But life… life has other plans. Careers, cities, families, responsibilities — they stretch us out like butter on hot toast. Slowly, those daily conversations shrink to yearly greetings. And then — silence.

Until one day, something stirs the memory.

For me, it happened in a metro.

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🚇 A Metro Ride into the Past

It was one of those rare Bangalore afternoons when the metro wasn’t packed like a tiffin box. A true miracle. I could actually stand without someone breathing down my neck. Legs weren’t twisted like yoga poses. I had full body positioning! Trust me, in Bangalore metro terms, this is luxury.

As we passed through the railway station, two elderly men — somewhere in their early sixties — boarded. They spoke Tamil, with a lilt that came only from Palakkad. Their laughter had no filters. Loud, honest, and filled with something pure — a time before smartphones, before Google, before everyone had LinkedIn but no one had time.

Let me translate what I overheard. Don’t worry — I wasn't eavesdropping. They were practically announcing their life stories over the PA system.

Friend 1: “Hey! You da? After so long!”
Friend 2: “Macha! I’m good! What are you doing here?”
Friend 1: “Going to a friend’s daughter’s wedding.”
Friend 2: “Which friend?”
Friend 1: “Vishwanathan’s daughter.”
Friend 2: “Eh! I’m going to the same one. He was my colleague!”
Friend 1: “What a small world! We were childhood friends. Haven’t seen each other since school.”

And just like that, the dam broke. Memories came rushing.

Friend 2: “Yes, yes. Life, da. Took us everywhere. Retired now. But see, destiny made us meet — in Bangalore metro of all places!”
Friend 1: “Remember the days we travelled from Walayar to Coimbatore for school?”
Friend 2: “How can I forget? And what about Rajesh Unni and Prabakaran?”
Friend 1: silent for a moment “Rajesh... passed away two years ago.”
Friend 2: “What? That health freak? The guy who drank bitter gourd juice like water?”
Friend 1: “Yes, macha. Life’s unpredictable.”

And then came the line that hit me like that one autorickshaw that always jumps the signal:

Friend 2: “When we were young, we chased jobs and money. Now, we have both — but no friends. The friendships we had in childhood were the purest. No ego. No expectations. Just hearts wide open.”

They exchanged numbers. The train arrived at their stop.

Friend 1: “Come da, let’s get down. We’ve got a marriage to attend and memories to relive.”

And just like that, they walked away, laughing, leaning on each other, into the city — and into their past.

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🏫 The School That Lives in My Head

I still had a few stops left. But my mind had already slipped back to those old school days — where the benches held secrets, the walls had witnessed dreams whispered between classes, and friendships were as simple as sharing a pencil or saving a seat during morning assembly.

So many friends. Some still around. Some drifting in and out like radio signals. Some only names on faded photographs.

They were classmates, lunchbox warriors, backbench philosophers, exam-time saviors, and those who stuck around long enough to become family.

Some were seasonal. Some, eternal. But each one? Real.

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🎒 Life, Laughter, and Letting Go

We often think friendship is about consistency. Daily calls. Weekly updates. Birthday reminders.

But maybe, it’s also about silent understanding. That even after years, when we meet — at a wedding, a bus stand, or a random metro — we can talk like nothing ever changed.

So to all my friends — whether we talk or not — thank you.

You were part of my story. A scene, a chapter, a bridge. You helped me laugh when I had no reason to. You showed up when I didn’t expect you to. And even if time pulled us apart, I still carry a little bit of you with me.

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💌 Until We Meet Again…

If you ever see me staring out the window, smiling quietly in a crowded metro, don’t be surprised. Maybe I’m not thinking about work. Maybe I’m just remembering you.

Because friendship never really leaves. It just takes the scenic route back.

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