There has to be some context to our lives, and who better to explain it than the girl you met in Class IV D
Every December, without fail, repeated invitations swoosh into my phone, followed by evangelistic tom-tomming in multiple WhatsApp groups. They are signalling the big annual tribal ritual of our times—alumni reunions. These always take place in winter, mainly fuelled by the diaspora flying down to check on ageing parents and soak in some winter sun while at it. On the menu is a couple of days of relentless partying. Be it a high school, university or B-school, everyone seems to be seeking sugar-coated nostalgia doused in alcohol (minus spouses).