LIFE LESSONS

The Stories That Once Made Us Cry

Twenty-five years rewrote every story we thought defined us

Photo by Church of the King on Unsplash

We finally got the opportunity to be sixteen again.

A few months back, we celebrated our 25th-year school reunion. That was when I understood that organising an event is pretty easy, but getting people to participate is a big challenge. Those who didn’t attend had their own reasons. Some were outside India, some were in other far-off states, and some refrained from coming because they were scared of the question

“What are you doing in life now?”

I was on the organising team, and we made a point of telling everyone to keep the achievement stuff away from the get-together. We were just friends and classmates catching up after 25 years, nothing more or less.

Despite all these precautions, many who worked in small firms and girls who had stepped away from their careers because life had taken them in a different direction refrained from coming for fear of embarrassing themselves before those they considered successful in life.

Many people dropped out, but we managed to get a decent 75 participants for the meet.

During the event, to break the ice, I organised a game where, if they lost, they had to tell us about one incident from their school life that only they or a handful of their close friends knew. It should not be generic school stuff that everyone was a part of. The game began, and gradually each one shared their story.

To our surprise, the recounting turned out to be magical. People began recollecting events that had happened at the same time, but each person had a different story to tell. For example, during the school tour, the boys had their version, and the girls had an entirely different one.

Each story had us in stitches, with the memories recounted as if they had happened just yesterday. The classroom pranks, the narrow escapes, the clever excuses, and the ridiculous adventures that had once seemed like life-or-death situations had now become comedy.

People were rolling on the floor laughing at the stories being told. Especially stories from the backbenchers and the unimaginable things that they had done and managed to get away with were simply a laugh riot.

Hilarious stuff that once was highly confidential and sworn within closed circles was shared because it was no longer too embarrassing to reveal to others. It was like it happened millions of years ago, and it doesn’t matter now.

Later that evening, when I came back home, I was just replaying all the moments of the day, and as I reflected, I noticed something remarkable: many of the funniest memories were actually painful or humiliating experiences that once made someone cry.

A boy who was once labelled a duffer, written off as a good-for-nothing by the teachers, and deemed unfit to pursue studies. Someone who felt absolutely humiliated for having to attend remedial classes after school hours at the school stage, as the entire school watched him, has now become a researcher at an Atomic Research Centre with three Master’s degrees and a PhD under his belt.

Another classmate was branded “naughty” and unfairly judged for her character simply because she didn’t fit the school’s idea of an ideal student. She endured uncomfortable confrontations with teachers and the principal that left lasting scars during her school days. Today, she is the Head of the Department at a reputed institution. Her students lovingly call her “Cool Ma’am” because she treats them with the kindness and understanding she once wished someone had shown her.

Then there was a classmate who seemed to spend more time outside the classroom than inside it. He was punished almost every day, and many teachers believed he was too mischievous, too undisciplined, and not serious about his future. Few imagined he would amount to much. Today, he proudly wears the uniform of the Indian Army as a decorated officer serving the nation.

These stories, and so many others shared during the get-together, left me with an immense realisation. The moments in life that bring pain or humiliation often lay the foundation for something beautiful and shape us into who we are meant to be.

As I drove home that evening, one thought stayed with me: no matter how fierce a storm may seem while we’re living through it, it is never meant to last forever. When I looked around the reunion hall, I wasn’t looking at successful professionals, professors, officers, entrepreneurs, or homemakers. I was seeing people who had survived their own storms.

None of us can see what lies beyond the storm while we’re living through it. But twenty-five years later, I had just watched an entire room laugh at moments that had once brought tears, embarrassment, and self-doubt. Perhaps that’s what time does.

It doesn’t erase every painful memory; it simply rewrites it.

“This too shall pass.”

— Alfred Francis

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