The Sole Archivist, The Only Witness Left

I remember a boy from my class who left for another country in fifth grade. Years later, I found him on Instagram and sent him a message.

He replied with one word. 'Who?'

People often say you don't meet people by chance. Each and every person you meet or cross paths with is due to a purpose.

So one day I sat down and thought about every person I met and what their purpose was in my life. Even the old classmates who I forgot about what they looked like.

What was their purpose in my life?

Nothing…

That's what came to my mind. There are so many classmates I never interacted with before, they even changed schools.

So I divided the lists of people in my life who just existed and then those who I interacted with.

Now, since we have categorized them, what was the purpose of the people who I interacted with, in my life?

Then I divided them further, one, who I talked with for a short time and not for much, maybe they were just strangers who made me laugh? Or perhaps the other way around? We were in each others life so as to keep the loneliness away.

Then are those people who I have talked with many times and those who I have talked almost daily. Why were they in my life? What was their purpose?

The thing is the memory with them is something I don't ever want to forget. The little interactions to the big laughter.

I remember this guy from my class who left school in fifth grade and went to another country.

At that time, like every other kid, I tried to be a diligent one. I was an extroverted person who loved talking to everybody. And honestly, I want to go back to this version of me but be a little more funny.

That kid lets say, his name was B, and my name was A. He used to make fun of my surname because a little change to it would mean liquor in Hindi. And so he used to call me A liquor, he would shout it in the class and then I would run after him to beat him. I hated him for it. But now, honestly, I don't hate it that much, I at some point find it funny.

Then I would call him Rasgulla. Because his name with a little change sounded like that.

As a wanna be diligent student and as little kids, in a class where everyone was diligent too, him being like the way he is, shocked me. I would come home and tell everyone about this one kid, who was always looking for fun and gave me such a bad nickname.

The first time I ate in class was with him.

The teacher made him sat on the first bench with me that day because he was talking continuously with his friends. And there was this boy in our class and it was his birthday that day so he distributed chocolates to everyone.

Rasgulla asked me, "hey! Can I eat this chocolate? You wont tell the teacher, will you?" I gave him side eyes and I said "Yes, I will, so don't eat during class." He said "then we can share, shall we?" And then I agreed. We took Rasgulla's chocolate, cut it in half and with our heads down, we ate it. Then we took my chocolate, cut it in half and then with our heads down we ate it.

Then there was this guy who was really okay with everything. Rasgulla asked me, lets ask him if he could give his chocolate to us. I know this may sound a bit unethical but we were freakin kids that time, I don't even remember how small we were.

"The okay with everything" guy agreed and gave his chocolate to us and we divided it in half, put our heads down and ate it. That was the first time I ate during class. I was in first or second grade perhaps.

Once he called me, A liquor, and I ran after him and punched him in the back. I still remember that feeling, I punched him a little too hard and I still feel bad about it because I never said sorry. And that day he didn't call me with that name, and honestly speaking, it was pretty satisfying.

Rasgulla was the fastest kid in my class like he ran really fast. I am sure he wanted to be an athlete.

There was this thing, which I don't want to share with you guys but lets say it's a story, about the best man in this world, whose parents name was A and B. I was named after A. And Rasgulla was named after B.

Once sitting in the class, he said, "A, do you know the best man in this world, his mother's name was A and his father's name was B and your name is A and my name is B." and I said "so?" Now that I think about it, I laugh so hard.

I live in a joint family. So my grandparents, my parents and my uncle all live together. Turns out Rasgulla's mom was a very good friend of my aunt. And my aunt invited him to my house.

I still remember it, when he came. We wasted the whole time, he was sitting beside his mom in my room and everyone was talking. After a whole lot of hours, me and my brothers decided to invite him to play with us.

We went in one by one, 'Rasgulla come', then second brother — 'Rasgulla come!' but he didn't move, maybe because he was feeling shy and was not very well acquainted with anyone, so I went in and called him, he came out. We decided to play carrom but then my teacher came to teach us. And we all sat down to study and by the time we got over with it, he went home.

Next day, I told everyone, like almost everyone, 'you know? Rasgulla came to my house yesterday!!' and they started asking Rasgulla, "really? Really? Is it true?" But Rasgulla denied.

And I was like why are you lying? But it was so much fun seeing him deny and react in such a stupid way.

His roll number was two and mine was mostly four or five. Our teacher would make groups of five for project or activities like group one has roll number one-five, then six-ten and so on. So we were mostly on the same group. The teacher would ask who would be the group leader and me being the extroverted one at that time would always raise my hand to be the leader.

During lunch break, I would gather everyone to discuss what we have to do and Rasgulla was the hardest to find, he would always run away and I would chase him and then he would sometimes come in between and call me liquor in Hindi and run away again and I would chase after him.

I would get really irritated and frustrated because of him to the point that I didn't even save his number when I got it, to discuss the project.

It was during lockdown that during my online classes, my mom told me that he went to Qatar. I didn't care much at that time but after school opened, I kinda missed him. Then in 9th grade, I found his insta id and followed him and he followed back. I was really happy and excited.

I messaged him and like not "Hi!" or "Hello!" but in a tone we only talk to with people we know. Like "oii", and he replied with "who?" We talked a little, he unfortunately doesn't remember me.

And honestly speaking, it was hurtful. And I actually cried.

I remember so much and almost everything about him so vividly. I remember his voice, his expressions whenever we talked and yet he doesn't even remember my name.

That day, I thought what was his purpose in my life? Why do I remember him and he doesn't.

Now, I don't think the right question is whether Rasgulla had a purpose in my life or not. The question should be why some people leave footprints in us that are way deeper than the footprints we leave in them?

I don't know what I really miss. Do I miss him or the version of me that existed when he was around?

As for purpose, maybe his purpose wasn't to stay forever, maybe it was simply to stay as part of a chapter. A lot of people believe that purpose means teaching a life lesson, being there for you forever, changing your destiny. But sometimes, someone's entire purpose is to create a few years or months that become part of who you are.

The first time I ate in class. The first time I felt guilty for hurting someone. The first time someone from my class came to my house. The first time I realized someone can be completely different from me and we can still be friends.

Yes, although, I was hurt that he doesn't remember me, although I still somehow want him to remember who I am, out of nowhere. Although, if I get the chance to meet him, I would make him my friend again.

Memory and significance are not the same thing. I probably don't remember every person who made me laugh. I probably don't remember every classmate who sat beside me, yet they still affected my life in tiny ways.

I remember Rasgulla because he became part of my story, maybe for him, I became part of hundred stories mixed together. He moved countries. He met new classmates, new friends, new school. Childhood memories blur. New memories ahead.

The fact that he forgot does not erase what happened.

Everything still happened. These memories are real even if one person remembers it now. And I think the reason I felt bad wasn't because he forgot me. It's that when he said 'who?' a part of me felt as though my memories were rejected.

As if all those years of remembering suddenly became embarrassing. But they aren't.

One person remembering is enough to have a memory existed. And maybe that's the answer to my question. Rasgulla's purpose wasn't anything special, it wasn't to remember me forever, it may simply have been to give a little kid named A a collection of stories that, years later she would still be laughing and smiling about while writing and remembering thousands of words about a boy who ran really fast, who loved running, who wanted to be an athlete, who ate chocolates with me and accidently became unforgettable.

And I am sure he will achieve and become what he wants to be, he will one day become a great athlete and I am already his fan. Somewhere in India there exist a fan of his who he doesn't even remember.

Although, I feel like I have found his purpose in my life but I still hate it. I want to forget him too or maybe I just want him to remember me too.

Perhaps every friendship doesn't need two archivists. Some chapters survive because one person remembers them. And maybe that's enough.

Somewhere in Qatar, there exists a boy, for whom I became one of the countless faces from his childhood.

Somehow, he became one of the few I never forgot.