My People: Where art thou?

More often than not, we find our people through sheer chance.

We ‘click’ and we ‘stick’ together.

Sat next to each other on first day of school.

Parents bought neighboring homes. Grew up together.

Assigned roommates in hostel.

Friend of a friend.

Ended up in the same city.

Ended up in the same college.

Worked the same shift.

Some of these events could be less obvious than others.

Sat next to each other in a flight.

Shared the same compartment in a train.

Ex’s ex.

But well, more often than not, ‘fate’ brings us together. Like-mindedness ‘keeps’ us together; and time and shared experiences make the bond go stronger.

These are ‘our’ people.

We rely on them. We bank on them for all our needs. We tell them anything and everything without ever fearing judgement.

We go through our worst times together, our best too.

We cry together, we laugh together.

They know our first love, they know our last heartbreak.

We take trips together.

These are our people.

They are important to us. We hold on to them. We cherish them.

And then there is the other kind.

We get together because we share a passion, an interest, a common goal.

We want to challenge the status quo. We want to push the boundaries. We want to break walls. We want to free the birds.

We want to create change. We want to be the change.

And they do too.

These are the people who may not know if and when we had our heart broken, but they know the music that came out of it.

They may not have known us in high school or college, but they know us and our dreams in the most raw and vulnerable form.

They know our best kept secret. Because it’s theirs too.

They constantly uplift us. They push us to be better.

They think like us. They make us feel right at home.

They help us be us. A better us.

In them, we see we are not alone. In them, we find solace that we are not odd.

In them, we see us.

But here is the catch.

They are not handed to us on a platter. We have got to earn them. We have got to reach out to find them.

If we are really lucky, sometimes the first kind grows into the second kind.

But more often than not, we go through our entire lives oblivious that the second kind exists.

It’s the ‘normal’. Our parents did not have them, our friends do not have them. There is no placeholder in our lives carved for them, hence their absence does not create a void. And well, when have we ever been known to work for what’s not missing!

It’s easy.

I don’t know if there are people out there waiting to be found by me.

It’s scary to think.

What if I never found them! What if I found the wrong ones! What if I found the right ones, and they rejected me!

But you know what’s scarier?

To imagine what it would be like if I found them, and they got me. If they completely, totally understood me.

My people. To have them, and be them.

My people!