“The Greek word for "return" is nostos. Algos means "suffering." So nostalgia is the suffering caused by an unappeased yearning to return.”
― Milan Kundera, Ignorance
Spent the last couple of hours going through old Facebook messages with boybackhome to figure out if we have a date. There isn't one as in turns, but we'll invent something as we do every year. They are incredibly funny the exchanges..some, where we are still unsure how to address each other even though we are with each other. The Bengali terms for someone who is your age and who is younger are different--tumi and tui, respectively. We've settled into a tui now, even though he is younger. But a look through the old 2011 messages and tumi makes its awkward appearance. This was followed by a conversation with Sameen, who teaches 16/17 year old Chinese boys in Hong Kong, is always proper and well dressed and introduced us uninitiated to the wonderful game that is Dixit. We were talking about something else entirely and somehow the conversation veered back to nostalgia. I get attached too soon to people I like, and hence when the time to pack up and move on happens, someone always has to manage the sudden outburst of snot because I almost never see the end coming. I spoke about the time Prachi and Meghana did the crown with place name for me, Sudz and Kallu and said snotburst also happened and the girls just got scared because I wouldn't stop. Fact about my tear glands: Mutant. If tears fall by chance, even after sadness and feeling of teary-eyed ness is gone, glands continue to manufacture tears endlessly. This has been a major source of wonder/grief/amazement for boybackhome as there have been times where I'm visibly and happily laughing but tear glands due to malfunctioning continue to manufacture tears that should have stopped half an hour ago.
The day I leave London, I am going to try not to meet anyone and spare the ones I've come to know and love(you know who you are) the snotburst. Because it will happen. And the tear glands will be on overdrive.
Music, as always,
― Milan Kundera, Ignorance
Spent the last couple of hours going through old Facebook messages with boybackhome to figure out if we have a date. There isn't one as in turns, but we'll invent something as we do every year. They are incredibly funny the exchanges..some, where we are still unsure how to address each other even though we are with each other. The Bengali terms for someone who is your age and who is younger are different--tumi and tui, respectively. We've settled into a tui now, even though he is younger. But a look through the old 2011 messages and tumi makes its awkward appearance. This was followed by a conversation with Sameen, who teaches 16/17 year old Chinese boys in Hong Kong, is always proper and well dressed and introduced us uninitiated to the wonderful game that is Dixit. We were talking about something else entirely and somehow the conversation veered back to nostalgia. I get attached too soon to people I like, and hence when the time to pack up and move on happens, someone always has to manage the sudden outburst of snot because I almost never see the end coming. I spoke about the time Prachi and Meghana did the crown with place name for me, Sudz and Kallu and said snotburst also happened and the girls just got scared because I wouldn't stop. Fact about my tear glands: Mutant. If tears fall by chance, even after sadness and feeling of teary-eyed ness is gone, glands continue to manufacture tears endlessly. This has been a major source of wonder/grief/amazement for boybackhome as there have been times where I'm visibly and happily laughing but tear glands due to malfunctioning continue to manufacture tears that should have stopped half an hour ago.
The day I leave London, I am going to try not to meet anyone and spare the ones I've come to know and love(you know who you are) the snotburst. Because it will happen. And the tear glands will be on overdrive.
Music, as always,
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