Soliloquy

And soon another year will pass once again, and the group of us that were fatefully bound in our common destiny as being a part of a strange class back in 2002/2003 will be one more year apart from each other as compared to the past. The artificial means that have been tried to keep us in contact with each other are merely a stop gap measure to maintain linkages among a group of people who prize individuality over collective mutiny; there is little left for us to mutiny against, and even less of a thread of connection to once again be with each other to reminisce about those who once oppressed or bolstered us.

But among the disheartening note lies that small beacon of light that shines from a distance that at times remind us of our heritage. That beacon is the silent yet tenuous thread of fate that we share with each other. This thread requires a struggle to maintain, a struggle that we have mostly tried from a group level. Forming committees just to ensure that contact is kept is just a silly proposition, but it is hard to say that some form maintenance is hardly necessary. We are judged by the world around by the company we keep, and sometimes even on the people whom we know.

So as I pen these few weakly linked thoughts, I sometimes hope that perhaps one day we will all meet again and cherish the moments that were when we were in His Excellency EY's turtorial class, and to share with each other what the future bodes. But these are just mere dreams of a scholarly mind; people have lives to lead and they grow ever increasingly apart from the divergence of life paths.