We had a get-together yesterday for the old classmates of Class 10 of Paro High School, commonly known as Gaupay. It was after 33 long years since we graduated, and since then, our beloved school has been downgraded to a primary school. Such reunions are deeply meaningful; they help clear misunderstandings that often arise from assumptions, pride, and lack of communication over the years.
A few days ago, I was walking past the parking area near the Military Hospital when I noticed a familiar face sitting inside a car. I wondered if it could be my classmate Tandin from 1992. I looked at him and smiled, hoping for a sign of recognition. But he remained serious and didn’t smile back. I felt a little hurt and told myself that perhaps it wasn’t him after all. Yet, a part of me was convinced it was Tandin and that he had simply become arrogant.
Yesterday, during our reunion, I found out that it was him in the car. We laughed about it, and I mentioned that he hadn’t smiled back when I saw him. To my surprise, he admitted that he had seen me too but hadn’t responded. It felt strange for someone to openly agree to such behavior, until I noticed something unusual. Sitting across from him, I could see that one side of his face twitched slightly, and he seemed to drool a little while talking.
As the conversation went on, I learned that he had just returned from medical treatment in India. He had almost undergone brain surgery here, but the doctors in India decided to try medication instead. “I’m getting better,” he said softly. There was something wrong with his brain cells. In that moment, all the resentment I had carried vanished, replaced by pity and sadness. My eyes welled up with tears.
That day in the parking lot, my friend was weak, unwell, and fasting for a blood test, had been sitting in the car silently, while I had judged him for not smiling at me. I felt deeply sorry, not just for my wrong assumptions but for failing to take the first step to greet him.
That’s how life is, we jump to conclusions so easily without knowing what the other person might be going through. Our reunion helped clear this misunderstanding, one that could have lasted a lifetime if not for that meeting. Many other resentments were cleared that day with other friends.
We became the same carefree teenagers of 1992 once again: laughing, teasing, and reconnecting, even though we are now in our fifties, with some of us being successful businessmen, Dashos, and well-settled individuals.
The gathering reminded us of the irreplaceable bond of friendship and the simple truth that an old devil is better than a new god.
Thanks to Rabten and apologies to Tandin.
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