India, April 24 -- It was akin to bumping into a long-lost soulmate or a forgotten relative. So many memories came unbidden-bittersweet, nostalgic, and reminiscent of an age that seemed so far away yet was right here. My heart thumped for no apparent reason. Dizzy with excitement and anticipation, I viewed the imposing gates and as they swung open, our school came into view. Suddenly, I saw my young self standing under those very eaves, waiting tearfully for parents to arrive for outings, jostling impatiently in queues outside the dining hall while stomachs rumbled waiting for dinner, running eagerly to complete an errand for a senior, memorising for a test while walking up and down the verandahs and, of course, surreptitiously loading our pockets with cutlets and bread for a clandestine midnight feast. It was 1974 when we, seven years old, joined school in Dehradun and now, decades later, many of us were back for a much-awaited reunion-excited, curious and a little self-conscious, too. As we fell into each other's arms, hugging and greeting each other, it was as if we had never left. Everyone looked different but also just the same: Grown-up versions of the little girls we were back then. In one big group, we clattered upstairs into our dormitories, which looked so chic and modern with personal cupboards and tables, compared to when we had to make do with shoving our suitcases under the bed! After classes was the best time because we would troop up there in the afternoons, rumple up the counterpanes much to the chagrin of the matrons, sitting cross-legged in groups gossiping and laughing. School was the place where we learnt the meaning of comradeship, close friendships, petty jealousies, loneliness, embarrassment, sharing, loyalty and a whole lot of love. None of us knew the others' caste or religious preferences. We celebrated Eid, Diwali, and Christmas and went to the gurdwara with equal fervour-the latter a little more enthusiastically because of the added incentive of the deliciously fragrant and scrumptious prasad. All the girls had stories to share, some happy, some sombre. So much nostalgia and memories were woven into our growing-up years. We chuckled as we remembered episodes and recounted incidents that seemed like monumental gaffes then, but we could dismiss them now as silly and trivial. Quarrels and sulking, then hugging and making up, situations that shamed us, frivolous things that elated us-all seemed so inconsequential now as we reminisced and dissected them in wonderment at our innocence and simplicity as children. With tears pricking our eyelids and our hearts swelling with emotion, we joined in the chorus of 'Auld Lang Syne', bidding goodbye to each other and promising to meet again. I was strangely quiet and subdued on the drive back home, marvelling at the magic of serendipity that brought us from all over the world and India to meet, study together and share our childhood, our dreams and our love. These are friends you trust with your lives, friends who always have your back, friends with whom you learnt the rules of life-these are friends like no other....