The Other Side Of The Fence

I recently attended the Mohit Chauhan concert organized by a bunch of college students in Pune. The lawns had been divided into two clear factions: one was the designated VIP zone, complete with its plush sofas and an exquisite arrangement for comestibles-on-demand; the other was a lowered slope which was an open area for the college students to stand and watch the show. Clearly, the latter option looked much more colourful and vibrant. Students stood in huddles, swaying to the tango, and singing their hearts out sans inhibition.
"Let's take that option, it gets me nostalgic," I suggested to my colleague IC, who had unwillingly been dragged along for company after getting an assurance that I would shield him against any salvos that his demonic boss would fire at him for leaving an unfinished code at work.
"The organizers won't let us in," IC grunted bemusedly, "we have the VIP passes. And anyway, these students are happy because they are free of guilt. They haven't got here by lying to anyone. I still can't believe you convinced me to threaten my boss that I'd puke right in his cabin if I didn't leave office early."
"It will be worth it," I laughed, "let's get in now."
The organizers checked our passes and guided us to the VIP area.
"We'd like to stand there," I requested, pointing to the lowered slope.
"Sorry Sir, that's for the students," the boy resisted, "you've got VIP passes."
"That's ok," I argued, trying to shove through, "we were also students three years back - not a big deal."
"That's three years too long, Sir, I insist," he stood firm, "please take your seats on the other side of the fence. You'll be more comfortable there."
The show was on, but I felt something was amiss. My mind drifted continually to the open area, to the crazy jigs the students performed together in sync with the soulful songs being rendered by the performers, and to the three years gone by that felt like eons. And then, Mohit began explaining the lyrics of a new song he had composed, which talked of a bird's desire to take a long due flight from the hills down to the valley. I felt Mohit was scanning my thoughts as I gazed down at the slope to my left. I was the bird, and my wings flapped with candid anticipation. But alas, I knew not the route back to the valley.