Welcome back buddy

A new scrap entry, a peep and I see a weird name ‘Religion is a Whore’ with an equally weird picture complimenting the scene. First instance-ignore-delete, then I read-exclaim-yelp in my mind-Oh my God this is Gary!!

He is Gary; lesser known as Gurvinder Risam. So you think he is this typical surd with typical surdu antics? Nay! He was a whacked mad hatter with blond beard and blond tresses (bundled up in a funny looking turban, the kind Osho wore) pierced lower lip, loose hanging denims, Sepultura and Ozzy laden t-shirts, always accompanied with his beloved friend Franco-another whacko of Gary’s order.

So what makes this ambidextrous, rapid devourer of OC text books (Organisation of Commerce- A subject I would puke studying despite being a Commerce student. Misfit I was for that stream, Business was never my deal) special to me?
No clue how I got talking to this recluse, he wrote poems and I read them during boring Math/OC/Accounts/OB lectures. He maintained a dairy, that was his Mecca, scared enough to be kept away from any eye. But I read those words, he shared them with me. His verses were dark and deep, abusive and at times repulsive, of loss, of hate, of hope, of ache, of void, of unrequited emotions. I could relate to many, about some I plainly wondered, over many I marveled, in the end it became my favourite read.

He was a rebel, he did it his way, he cared a dime of what others had to say, he lived in oblivion and in college not many cared about his existence, yet he managed to send a wave on certain occasions.

Ozzy, Sepultura, Megadeth, Floyd were names I heard from him, to their tunes he hummed and I sat through the lectures faintly hearing the alien tunes.
Three years of degree college and Gary was a routine to me, we would meet during lectures, yak, write poems (I the English plain verses, he the dark hues), unspoken it was that we shared a close bond, that we were buddies and that we would be this way, life long.

College ended, we went different ways, I got lost in my own struggle, while he strummed the chords of his life to find his new tune. Gary-Franco duo, I never saw them again, never heard of them again. With time I forgot about him, thought we were co-passengers of a short distance journey, with this I left college never to go back to those iron gates, behind which stood my five years of ordeal where I was hanging between Assets and Liabilities, balancing the accounts to reach them to finality; Alas! With the intervention of ‘Suspense (saviour) accounts.’ My journey as a misfit was over, my journey with a whacko humanoid was over and I missed those days when Gary all through three years sat behind me during exams and answered the entire question paper despite there being a choice.

After four years, he re-appears, my long lost friend shows up again. Been so long that I don’t remember were we left the thread. But that’s the beauty of friendship, it is revivable, it never dies, it loses it way only to find it back, it’s the comfort zone that needs no patch work, its never over with the ebbs and tides.

He says he is glad to be back to his roots, to which I smiled and said, indeed they are deep and they were never dead. Welcome back, you whacko!
Thanks dear Orkut for Gary had to find me here.