New Town, Old Friends

I meet up with my primary school classmates about twice a year. It is a chance for me to catch up with old friends and for past misdemeanors to catch up with me (a friend still delights in reminding me of the milk incident) [Correction: friend would like to point out that the incident involved a Yeo's packet drink instead of milk, "think was sugarcane", as well as a smashed piece of "butter/ fruit cake". the details, amusing though they may be, escape me ;P]. What I like about the gatherings is that any baggage has long since been cast aside in the name of friendship. Everyone realizes what a blessing it is to be able to keep in contact with like-minded friends made at an altogether more innocent stage of our lives and petty feuds and squabbles in our old primary school courtyard are now remembered only for the sake of a few laughs over a few drinks.

If I'm not wrong, our old primary school network was revived about six years ago when the guys were still serving their National Service. Since we parted ways thirteen years ago, I have often wondered how friends from the class of '90 have been faring: people I squatted coolie-style next to while brushing our teeth in front of a drain every morning with aerobics music blaring in the background, wringing thoroughly wet socks together after being soaked in the tropical rain on our way to school (we just about resisted whipping one another with them), and being fascinated by all the animals on excursions to the zoo even though they probably smelled just as bad back then.

When I was inducted back into the old school connection while still in University, the sense of rootlessness that has unconsciously dogged me over the years was finally quelled. Since then I've made it a point to attend every gathering even though I'm usually left clueless when the band members (I think almost every other Singaporean has a friend who is a band member in their school days) start talking about their ECA (call it CCA if you must, but students --- who are the ones who really matter anyway --- are oblivious to the supposed insinuation of the former abbreviation). Still, though I wasn't a protagonist in the stories, I was happy just to soak in the atmosphere as others reminisced over their past adventures in the band room. I guess other friends who turned up exhausted after a long day at work and sat relatively quietly in a corner of the table laughing over old times probably felt the same way.

Occasionally our former form teacher would join us in our outings as well. Given my propensity to daydream during lessons, it is probably a blessing that I was largely a nondescript student (apart from the milk incident) in a class of forty-two (incidentally, about fifteen people on average turn up for each outing). It is not fun and games all the time either, as former school mates and teachers who have unfortunately since passed away are remembered.

While all of us have chosen different paths to walk down, everyone still treasures our shared past from a bygone era and the mood of our gatherings captures the flavor of our friendship charmingly. Each time we set off to meet, we know that the harsh realities of life can be discarded fleetingly, safe in the knowledge that nobody will compare salaries with you, everyone will be dressed sensibly and we can all just look forward to a night of good, clean fun. To someone who does not have much, it means a lot. To those who have a lot, such unconditional friendship must seem doubly priceless.