The paragraph which sent him back searching for his school time memories read like that:
..The advent of the monsoon was exciting- and it was always like this with the first big storm, even in his earliest memories back at a time when the torrential rain concided with the new school year, new books, new friends…
As he tried to dig out his memories few faces and moments came up. But no swirl of excitement came up; there was not even a hint of joy. He searched more. Then more. Then even more. But it all looked as anything would have looked at someone’s last moments-moving but not meaning anything.
‘Friends. Yeah, friends,’ he thought. As he searched again few events, few days, few other things came up. But nothing rally flowed. Nothing had that pleasure, that desire, that excitement that comes after stumbling over something precious.
He thought of the endless discussions, those pranks, those jokes, that innocence, that inquisitiveness, those smiles, everything he could muster up.
Why isn’t it that appealing now?
May be because he was still in touch with them or actually was some time back. Maybe cos he can be like that with them even now. Only that he doesn’t remember where their phone numbers and addresses are. Only that he knew where they were but just someday stopped bothering.
Could that be the reason?
But they also didn’t called.
Maybe they have changed. Or maybe not Or may be he has.
But they if they haven’t changed will they be excited on stumbling upon his memories.
No, he thought.
Nah, he pressed.
Then he whizzed through his other memories. That childhood trip to Disney land, that cricket trophy, those night outs, that first love, that first bike, and god knows what. He almost conjured up every thing to anything that could mean anything to him in his life.
He now started digging up bad memories.
He remembered the loss of his best friend while still in school, who left him and the world at the same time. How he had not eaten for two weeks after that and then refused to go to that same school.
Suddenly another memory from college sprang up but it vanished as quickly it had sprung.
Damn! Two seconds for such a best friend, he thought as a wave of surprise and amusement hit him.
Now he thought of anything to everything.
But somehow it all looked same just as earlier. Every memory had that same banal quality to it. Nothing seemed instigating but somehow he was now beginning to enjoying it.
“Wow! Indiscrimination at its best,” he chuckled.
Amused he returned to his book.
….new friends, sloshing in new raincoats through flooded streets of floating bottle caps, empty cigarettes packets, broken branches, pepsi cans[…] that ever present hope that it would rain so hard that school would be canceled…