There’s something almost mystical about reunions. Not the regular catch-ups over dinner, but those epic, trip-based gatherings where classmates convene after decades, as if time were just a decorative illusion. In the past few years, with the slow but steady drumbeat of friends turning fifty, I’ve been both witness and participant in adventures that begin with nervous anticipation and end in riotous laughter—and a kind of rebirth that no ordinary weekend could bring.
At first glance, reunions seem to promise little more than nostalgia, some bad dancing, and a few retellings of embarrassing teenage moments. But somewhere between boarding passes and late-night confessions, something extraordinary unfolds. Time collapses. The cracks and scars of the intervening years fade into the background, replaced by a wave of pure, unfiltered joy—like meeting long-lost parts of ourselves we never realized had gone missing. For those fleeting days, we become the version of ourselves that existed before “the real world” taught us caution and constructed armor out of habit and necessity.
It’s easy to list the obvious perks: escape from the relentless pace of daily life, a chance to let loose and relive the carelessness of youth, the simple pleasure of being with people who knew us long before we became the edited versions of ourselves. But the true magic lies deeper. Reunions offer us a rare, priceless opportunity: to reconnect with the innocent “me” lost in the wake of adulthood’s relentless forward march. The one who laughed with abandon, harbored wild crushes, dreamed big, and stumbled through life without the baggage of self-doubt or pretense.
Standing in a circle of old friends or even distant classmates, we drop the masks we wear out in the world. Suddenly, we are not our job titles or our LinkedIn summaries. We’re just the kids we once were, only with grayer hair (or less hair),
many more kgs, more stories to tell, and hopefully a little more empathy in our hearts. In these moments, even old rivalries or dormant insecurities can melt away, replaced by empathy and shared humanity.
Sometimes, the biggest surprises are the transformations—seeing the backbencher now standing tall, the “rockstar” friend revealing hidden vulnerabilities, or forging an unexpected bond with someone who barely grazed your radar decades ago. Reunions have a way of shrinking life’s challenges, gently reminding us that everyone shoulders their own silent battles. Shared stories breathe perspective back into our journeys, reminding us we’re never quite as alone—or as doomed—as we may have thought.
If I’ve learned anything from these soul-reviving pilgrimages, it is that reunions are less about reliving the glory days and more about personal resurrection. They’re an act of gratitude—a conscious pause to honor the roads we’ve wandered and the friends who made the journey worthwhile. And if you’re lucky, reunions send you home with a lighter heart, new stories for the road ahead, and two or three companions to help weather whatever storms may come.
So here’s wishing everyone a happy reunion season—whenever and wherever it finds you. Embrace the magic, and let yourself be reborn, even just for a weekend.
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