Picking Up Right Where We Left Off: Reunion Edition

I spent the last weekend catching up with some of the ladies from my last job in India. Now, context: I worked there for barely two years. It’s been almost seven since I left. And yet, somehow, this little gang of women refused to fade into the 'ex-colleagues-I’ll-never-see-again' folder.

Among the 5, I’d managed to meet three of them at least once every year (you know, enough to keep the friendship alive and the inside jokes updated.) But with two of them, I hadn’t crossed paths in nearly six years.

Over the last few months, I'd been retreating to familiar feelings of comfort, places I had fun, places I felt safe. And I realized how these women had created a safe haven for me. A space where I could be vulnerable and still crack the silliest jokes without fear of being judged. And so a meetup plan began to formulate in my mind.

After chatting with everybody individually, a WhatsApp group was created (2 months in advance)and we figured out dates,locations and venues. There were complications and busy schedules, parents to be taken care of, babies to be looked after. Yet somehow, the determination to make this work was even stronger. 

Things slowly began to shape up. We were all to spend 24 hours together at Ranju’s home(thank you, Ranju for location courtesy.) Mads would not be able to spend the night, so she would come in early and leave early. The rest had planned to arrive by noon. 

It was finally D-day and it came with its own share of complications. V was down with some kind of fever that made her sound like a foghorn. Nidhi’s mom wasn’t keeping too well and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to make it either. Nevertheless we figured things would fall into place and Mads arrived early as planned. Sanchari followed shortly after. 

We traded stories and laughed like little school girls. We spoke about Mad's naiveness and inclination to see the best in people, Sanchari's remarkable storytelling abilities and nodded knowingly at Ranju’s incurable travel itch. 

Time flew by and we sat down for a meal. Nidhi walked in a little later bringing with her that loud, infectious cackle I’d missed for years!  Within minutes, I was yanking her chain and she was letting me. And just like that six years dissolved in six seconds. 

Even V, despite her flu-ridden state, eventually showed up because let’s face it, FOMO is stronger than any virus.

By then, it was already time to say bye to Mads and I could feel my heart starting to sink. 

But the rest of the evening made up for it. 

We ate, we laughed, we pulled each other’s legs. Then someone (bless them) whipped out a set of card games with deep, soul-searching questions. 

Suddenly, we were cross-legged on the floor, circling through prompts like:

• 'What’s your biggest regret in life?'
• followed immediately by 'What’s one sneaky activity you secretly enjoy?'

Basically, the emotional equivalent of switching from a sad Adele song to a dance remix in five seconds flat. But that's life, isn't it? A mess of contradictions and somehow it all makes sense when you're surrounded by your people.

Long after the games had ended, we still sat there, listening to some light Indie music. It felt like a lifetime had passed since we all last met and yet in a strange way, it felt like no time had passed at all. Perhaps that is what some friendships do to you. 

And perhaps as a reader you are struggling to understand what is so special about this lot of people. That would be hard to explain, but I can tell you how each of these touched my life. 

Mads - One of the first people I met at work. My early-morning partner in crime. We were always the first to arrive at work and the first to leave. The one to take offence when I called her a ‘Close colleague' instead of a friend. The one who believes in me each time I say 'We’ll figure it out' even though secretly she knows I am just as clueless. The quiet presence across the table. We don't have to speak much and the silences are not only comfortable, They are also understood. 

Sanchari- The one who calls a spade a spade, then writes a brilliant essay about it. She has this uncanny ability to remember all my embarrassing work stories and retell them with dramatic flair. She’s equal parts cheerleader and tough-love coach. The one I can trust to listen without judgement (after she gives you a dressing down for not acting like a 'grown ass woman’ with that eye roll she should patent.) 

V – Dark humor queen and style icon. She showed up sick because missing out was worse than a fever. We argue like children, but beneath all that banter is a lot of care and respect.

Nidhi -  The group's 'cutie pie.' The one who will have you in splits with her 'laugh and snort simultaneously' combo. The one who does not let ANYTHING take away the zest she has for life or the joy from her. The one I crack the worst jokes on, knowing she will give it right back to me. Even though we met after nearly 7 years, the conversation was just as smooth the jokes on each other just as bad and the hugs just as warm. 

Ranju - How do I even begin with this one? The mama bear of the lot. The one who values people and relationships over anything else. Equal parts fierce and equal parts gentle. Someone who can whip up comfort food for you one moment and go to battle for you the next. The one who’s always got your back. The one who actually walks the talk. A rare reminder that you don’t have to choose between being gentle and being strong: You can be both, fully and fiercely. 

To my heart, these wonderful women - and so many of my other female friends - are nothing short of extraordinary. But the world has a way of dictating how we should soften our shine, tuck away our brilliance and play small. And in those moments, even the most remarkable of us can’t help but feel a flicker of self-doubt.

But that night, as we sat in a circle sharing laughs and truths, I realized what this group has always given me: a reminder that we are more than enough. That we deserved good things, that 'us' would always be a safe space. Where we could talk about everything from ‘keyboard stealers’  and ‘blue-eyed boys’ to grief and regret. About versions of ourselves we didn’t recognise anymore. 

And maybe what makes it special is that some friendships don’t fade. They wait patiently, like a bookmarked page, until you’re ready to pick them up again.

For that and for these women, I’ll always be grateful.