THE strongest of bonds between human males are forged during their years together in school (I dare not speak for the females of the species).Those are the years pre-pubescent and teenage boys on the road to self-discovery and adulthood converge in a commonness that will later bridge the chasm between their diverse and grown-up lives.

This is why reunions among school buddies and friends from one’s teenage years are so rejuvenating, this evocation of the best time of our lives, in the company of those who shared them with us.My school years were split into two phases – primary school, most of which was in Penang and secondary school abroad, where I also formed a number of friendships that remain strong to this day, despite sporadic contact.

A couple of weeks ago, a few of my secondary school friends gathered with our families for an evening of reminiscing. The food was abundant and delicious, the wives laughed and joked among themselves and the kids ran unfettered, as we old chaps sat by ourselves and mulled over good old times, mates and teachers. You could almost envision a fire-place and snow on the lawn!

We’ve organised this reunion a couple of times before already, and although we’re in touch only occasionally, the camaraderie is comfortable.The Internet and cellular phones have made tracking down old friends and keeping in touch much easier than it was until the mid-1990s.

Back then, one relied on word of mouth to track down old pals. There are friends from my secondary school who dropped out of sight more than 25 years ago and stayed that way.However, I know where most of my class-mates from that era are now. We’re in touch, some on email, and others via the occasional phone call.

However, it’s a different story with my primary school mates from Penang’s Westlands Primary School with whom I parted ways as 1971 drew to a close.I remember a handful of them, and have searched the Internet without success to find them. Two of my best pals in the first four years of my schooling life were a hulking chap called Ashraf and – at the other end of the size spectrum – a diminutive lad named Saw, whose hair was always cropped short.

These were the two school pals always there at my birthday parties. Ashraf was the lumbering and comforting presence to turn to when we were threatened; Saw was the smart mouth who once gave me a box of pencils for my birthday so that, as he shot at me, “You won’t keep borrowing mine!”

Once I left school, though, we never kept in touch. Snail mail was the only way to stay connected, and in all the excitement of settling down in another land, I lost track of the years.Anyway, if you’re reading this and studied in Westlands Primary between 1968 and 1971 (Years One to Four), or know anyone who did, do email me, we might have been classmates!