As we sit in the airplane, I look at the clock that’s moving painfully slowly. If schedule does not change because of delays, we’ll reach home in about 15 hours. I feel like time has been playing jokes with us, showing its power. “You see,” it seems to whisper, “You said I was passing too fast during your stay in Kerala, so I slowed down, specially for you.”

“Hush!” I say, “at least let me reflect on our experience, instead of disrupting my thoughts. You’ve watched silently when students struggled with their education, their families, their voices; you did not intervene when their dreams have been postponed, sometimes for ten years, because of wars or unawareness; you were not comforting them when they told their stories of struggle. So now don’t you dare distracting me!”

My thoughts revolve around “Happy together,” a corny tune that acquired a completely new meaning in Blindsight, the movie about Paul, Sabriye, and a couple of their students who happened to be blind. They climbed the high mountains of Tibet and reached deep down to the core of what it means to be human: they experienced the joy of being immersed in nature, and recognized their own limitations and strengths. “Happy together” accompanied them on their way to the top and then down the mountain, whenever they needed support or simply enjoyed the fact of being together.

Now, the song has a completely new meaning for me, since Paul, Sabriye, and 2 of their former students actually sang it for us live. “Happy together” suddenly did not only remind me of the little movie theater in which our Friend and us watched the movie; it now included us and the singers, and all the students that surrounded us on the mercilessly hot evening. We all shared the heat, the stories, the dreams, the desire to change the world: about 25 people who want to change the world.

“Will our dreams ever be realized?” I wonder, as I take a sip of wine. Time, the very same time that I argued with, will tell. What I think is a good beginning on the long path to fulfilling dreams, and one of the most precious memories for me, are the students’ comments regarding our course: “a paradigm shift,” “never knew that I was allowed to break taboos,” “a totally new way of looking at things.” What else can one ask for? “Time, time!” I shout. “I respect you. Come back! You were well spent. I can’t ignore you altogether after all.”

“Let it be your lesson,” time whispered and let me finish my wine with quiet joy and Victor’s calm voice next to me.