One for the homie and two for the show

The place where I grew up-Shillong was a very quiet town, it still is, I find Shillong quiet because I have now stayed outside Shillong for almost a decade now. How I long to be amongst the pines cannot be measured by any imaginable scale. It would be quantifying love, which again is unimaginable.

What exactly is a homie?

But,we still have the old dada stall, the workers keep on changing, the price list too. The quality of the tea is still the same. However, it could never match the warmth and crispiness in the intellectual discussions we have out there sitting on its raggedy benches.

The stark and contrasting reality is that when I was in Shillong, I had become increasingly obsessed by the city and it’s way of things. I was obsessed and bored to such an extent that when I got an opportunity to study in NIT Silchar, I was immensely happy; happy that I was going to get rid of the boredom and dull life. As always, my happiness was shortlived- I found Silchar as a city to be utterly disgusting and lacking any fibre. With every passing semester, I used to wait for the vacations-a chance to meet my homies and catch up with lost times.

I believe, the psychology, the power of intellect, moral fiber etc of a boy is framed during the days of his growing up. Majority of it comes from his peers, friends, homies. 

                                                                                                                                                                         

Practically you have a lot of friends. Friends from school, who know you academically (those from who know what you did in the toilet apart from the usual stuff, or in who’s water bottle you peed in), friends from your tuitions (who know exactly which stationery shop you buy your refill from, or would ring you up to know what time are the extra classes)

And there are homies –Guys from your neighborhood (not necessarily your age), the guys who know exactly what’s in your mind when you pick up a fight with the guys from nearby neighborhood, the wingman(the wrong description), the guys who would push you to the fight just to enjoy the sight and if possible bet on your loss (the right description).

Anyways, homies are homies, never a love lost, never the bad blood, no vendettas. Homies let you know who ran off with whom and who got drunk the night before and slammed his car the wrong way. Many a movie has been dedicated to the homie-Grease, Merey Apney, Josh and yes not forgetting Angrez (a must watch).

Shillong was always politically disturbed as far and as long as my memory can take me. For normal teenager growing up in Shillong meant that you have your own accomplices (homies), always with you.

Whenever you went out during Pujas (which was equivalent to the prom nights in the west minus the sex, only a little booze and a few drags maybe), or when you had to go to an unfamiliar neighbourhood, maybe Laban or last stop to buy the odd tennis ball (buying tennis balls was a frequent ritual because of the NCG Landscape) and smoke a few cigarettes using that opportunity.

It was kind of absolutely necessary for a few to be escorted by homies during war times (times when the guys from the other neighbourhood had a personal vendetta on you, as you stared/sneezed at him the wrong way).

Homies also had an influence on your dressing style, few homies thought that the only way to be influential was to have the “Dil hai ki manta nahi “cap, or the “Kuch kuch hota hai” friendship band or the “Joota mai hai Light” shoes which was absolute bullcrap, however, the fittings of our trousers always had a similarity, the shoes almost looked similar, including the bands in the t-shirts. Movies were watched as per the recos provided by the homies. Your first brand of cigarettes, your favorite type of alcohol, everything would be entirely dependent on recos from your homie. Everybody’s hooch quantity was dependent on the likes/dislikes of the homies. 

I have so many vivid memeories of the times spent with my homies. I plan to start about each encountered in a planned and strategic manner (now that is again a part of creative writing).

Whenever I go home, and I meet my homies ,I resurrect myself- the dead me, the one who died fighting lonely battles in office space, in an unknown city with lots of unfamiliar faces. Nowadays, every-time I go home, the updates that I receive are not that pleasing, deaths of relatives or of acquaintances.