My Two Friends

My Two Friends

“Emerging leader award? Ha! You were much younger then isn’t it? Gone are those days my old one, gone are those days!” giggled Sumitra as we looked at some old photo albums that afternoon.

Abhi, my husband was off for his business trip as usual. Both my daughters don’t live with us anymore – they are independent, and don’t need looking after! So I was pretty much by myself in our large house. As a matter of fact, over the past several years I have been pretty much by myself here – everyone around me has been busy. When the children were younger, they needed me. So I gave up my career at a young age. I used to be a young engineer. But after my second child, there was no way I could do it all, so I took over the role of the homemaker, mother and wife. For the next few years I was busy looking after the family, but then the girls grew up, and now they don’t need looking after. They find it easier to live by themselves, closer to their workplace, where they can enjoy independently. Today all I get from them is a phone call over the weekends and an occasional post card from wherever they are. My husband is a busy man. He spends his days at his office and travels the world for his work. He is more often at airports than at home. Not that I can complain – he has to do it for all of us! So in a nutshell, here I am - a free, old woman – you could say pretty much useless. 

So in order to entertain myself, I have made a few friends – Sumitra happens to be one of them. Today is my forty ninth birthday. Nobody remembers really. I don’t mind, to be honest. But Sumitra does remember. She has come to wish me and to spend some time with me.

With her grey hair, slightly wrinkled face and large black circles around her eyes Sumitra joins me as I look through old photographs. We are looking at the pictures from my young days – I was 27 years old and my company had recognized me with the “Emerging Leaders award”. I used to be good, how did I end up being so… useless? I am quietly looking at this picture with me and the award, and unknowingly I begin to weep.

“Yes, yes. You got that award. It was nice, but why do you think of it and cry? Forget about all that now. Why are you trying to recollect those memories? Isn’t it better to face your reality – you are never going to be able to get back there and change things. Forget about that award, it means nothing. You are who you are. And let’s face it – you will always be what you are today.”

Sumitra is right, why am I looking back? So what if I received that award, it does not mean anything today. I can do nothing with it. It is totally worthless. I shut the album and push it aside. Let me look at some other pictures.

Here are some from my badminton championship. I used to be a state level winner. Here I have pics from my game when I was still at university. As I begin to smile, with a tear in my eye, Sumitra comes to my rescue.

“What is the point in this? Do you think you’ll ever be able to play that sport now? You are going through menopause! In fact I say you should stop all your outdoor activities. I see that you go for those jogs in the park and then later, you complain of back aches. It is not your age to jog and run my dear! Forget about all this now. You know what? You have to listen to your body – and you have to behave your age, you have to live your age.”

I immediately brush the album aside. I pick up another one – the one with my friends in it. The moments captured with friends – all happy ones. It would make me feel good I think. Here are the pictures of the road trip we took – just the girls. Here’s Pushpa – Pussy, Sarla – Sally, Krishna – Kitty. We were such besties. Look at this one here – after watching that movie at the mall we were treating ourselves to ice cream. Oh and here, we are at Sally’s bachelorette party!
The memories are bringing tears to my eyes, and Sumitra jumps in.

“Look, these are all old days. Who knows where these friends are now, what their stories are and whether they’d even recognize you. You live in your reality, they live in theirs; they have forgotten you. When was the last time any of these so-called besties called you? Do you even remember? No, you don’t. So there you go. Forget about them, as they have forgotten about you!”

Sumitra is right. The girls don’t remember me. I moved abroad years ago and lost touch with them. Then, when I returned back they were all at different places. I do have their phone numbers on a recently created whatsapp group, but none of them is active on that group. I am sure they are all busy. Nobody has the time to connect really. Why am I looking at these pictures and bringing myself pain.

I get up with a sigh to make us some tea. We sip our tea in silence, and then Sumitra has to leave.

“I hope you will be alright my dear” she says as she leaves me with myself.

I am sitting on my favorite, comfortable swinging chair with my eyes shut when young Samy gives me a shout from the open window on my side.

“Hey! What’s up? I know it’s your birthday today. Happy Birthday to you! Can I jump in?” she asks swinging her racket in the air.

Samy is my young friend – a very active girl, full of life. I give her the permission to jump in from the window, and in the next second Samy is sitting right next to me giggling and saying something to herself as she always does.

“So, I just saw depressingly old Sumitra leave you a few minutes ago. Hope she did not pass on her depression to you on your birthday?”

“No, we just saw a few old albums and had tea, that’s all”

“Albums! That is exciting! Show me!”

“No no, forget about it. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Remembering old times can never be a bad idea. I want to see them. Show me”

Samy is leaving me no choice, but to open the albums again.

Here’s the one with the award again.

“Oh! You were recognized as an Emerging Leader! That is brilliant. You are awesome. You know, now I see where your girls get their high potential from. You have made them the leaders they are.” Samy says.

“You are too kind Samy. This is all the past. It does not mean anything for anyone today”

“You are wrong. It means a lot to me! It tells me you are smart and you are a leader. You told me a few weeks back that you had been contacted by an old class mate of yours to see if you’d be willing to be an administrator at that newly founded school in our area. I know you were tempted to say yes, but you said no with the excuse that you had not done something like this for years. Why don’t you go back and say yes? I promise you that you will be just fine. Just do it! You will be doing yourself a favor.”

It is an idea I like – spending time with younger people is something I like to do. May be I should do this after-all.

“Oh and what is this? You were a badminton champ? Why oh why! Why have you been hiding? Your neighbors play at the club every morning! Why don’t you join them?”

“Oh I am too old now. I might break my back”

“Oh Come on! Backs don’t break that easily! All your neighbors are old. Some are older than you are. Yes, they are all men. But there is no reason why a woman cannot join them. There is no such rule at the club. All you need is a bit of warm up, and a bit of practice. Take it slowly, but you’ll be able to do it.”

No harm in trying – I am able to jog, and I do practice yoga from time to time. And I used to play badminton with my girls as they were growing up, so it’s not like I am completely out of touch!  Perhaps if I gave it a shot, I might be able to get back in form. This is encouraging.

“Tell me, who are these lovely ladies with you? These are your buddies from Uni?”

Now Samy is on the album with friends.

“Yes indeed. They used to be my best friends. This is Pushpa, we called her Pussy. She used to be the singer of our group. What a beautiful voice Pussy had. And this is Sarla. We called her Sally – a very intelligent girl. And that is Krishna – Kitty, small in size, but quick as a cat. She’d run like the wind. I spent some of the best days of my life with these girls. But now we are not in touch. I don’t think they’ll remember me.” Again, this is bringing tears to my eyes.

“You remember them, don’t you? So what makes you think they don’t remember you?” says Samy.

“Well we haven’t spoken for ages!”

“Have you tried to call them? You haven’t. And you keep saying you haven’t spoken for ages! I bet you, they too are thinking the same. They probably think, that you have forgotten them because you haven’t spoken for ages! But none thinks of changing this, picking up the phone and making that call.

Don’t you think it will be fun to go on that road trip again? Or go watch a movie and eat an ice cream after?”

Well, I do like the idea of meeting them all, and going on a trip. But is that really possible?

“How could I do that Samy, even if I wanted to?” Am I asking for Samy to help me here?

“Look, give me your phone. You have their numbers. Let me do this for you right now.”

Samy has grabbed my phone. What is she doing now? Oh my goodness, she has dialed Kitty’s number. The phone is ringing and my heart is beating faster!

“Hello, this is Krishna.”

“Hello, um hello Kitty. How are you? Recognize me?”

“Is that Sumitra? Oh Samy! My friend! It has been ages. You cannot imagine how happy I am to speak with you.”

I am unable to control myself. Kitty remembers me. We have a long conversation, but catching up on so many years will not happen in one phone call.

“Let’s meet up Kitty.” I suggest.

“Yes Samy! Let me reach out to Pussy, and you reach out to Sally. Let’s meet up. And hey – let’s do that road trip again.”

A very happy birthday to me – it has been a wonderful day. Conversations with Sumitra and Samy have taken me on an emotional roller coaster ride. So, do I want to be Sumitra, or should I remain Samy forever? The choice is easy – I choose to be Samy. But I know that there will be days when Sumitra will come back to me. Should I shut the door to her face when she knocks the next time?

I think not; I count on her for her wisdom. But I count on the playful, active and young Samy for my happiness. I do need them both.

Colors of Love

I was born about six years ago in the workshop of one of the most well-known steel artists in the world. He made me with his own hands. My tip, my bowl, my neck, my back and my hand were all very carefully cut out and crafted – with utmost skill and delicacy. I was then embroidered with a beautiful image of a climber. The climber was then painted with bright colors. I looked handsome. My master looked at me with pride and said – “You are my very best spoon. I have never made a better looking spoon before.”

I felt like a king! All other spoons around me were simple, and they were all jealous of my unique appearance. But I enjoyed their envy – I was full of pride.

My happiness and pride reached another level when I was boxed together with the most beautiful lady in the workshop – a shiny, steel fork embroidered with a similar climber on her hand. To me, it was love at first sight! The moment I saw her, I knew I wanted to be with her.  Love can be such a fantasy! It made me a dreamer.

At night when the master and his family went to sleep, I decided I’d strike a conversation with her. I‘d tell her how much I loved her. But I was too shy to express my feelings. The moment I looked at her, I forgot everything! I forgot who I was; I forgot where I was and what I had to say! I felt like a fool! So I stayed quiet. I just tried to secretly look at her from the corner of my eye, afraid that she’d somehow learn about my feelings and think – what a fool he is. But inside me, my heart was jumping with excitement! Love can be such a frenzy! It made me crazy.

The next morning a man visited the workshop. He was looking to buy a present for his daughter’s birthday. He looked around at the different articles there and picked up the box with me and my sweetheart.

“What a beautiful pair of cutlery this is Mr.Alloy” he exclaimed. “My daughter will be delighted to see this, and I am certain she will take this cutlery to school, in her lunch box every day.”

And he was right – the young girl of six loved her present. She opened up the box, gave me and my sweetheart a nice wash and after drying us, placed us gently in the kitchen drawer with the other spoons and forks.

The next day I and my darling had the opportunity to go to school in the girl’s lunch box. I secretly enjoyed the bumpy ride to school as it gave me the chance to brush against my dearest. She would blush away when I touched her, but I’d make every effort to discreetly move closer to her. I got the feeling that she was falling in love with me too. That smile on her face, that truth in her eyes let me know that she was falling for me. Oh what a feeling that was! Love can be so magical! It made me enchanted.

We did this every day, and I started seeing that we were enjoying each other’s company a lot! In the evenings though, she would sleep together with the other forks and I was left with the other spoons. The little girl’s mum was very particular about her cutlery – she did not mix forks and spoons together. I would dream about her at night, twisting and twirling in my own spoon compartment. I’d look forward to the next morning for our bumpy ride to the school again. Oh love can be so impatient! It made me so restless.

One day the girl took us to a park for a picnic. It was a beautiful day and both of us were shining more than ever in the sunlight. The children were all excited. The little girl quickly ate her lunch and packed the lunch box back into her bag, so she could enjoy playing with her friends in the park. In doing so, she did not notice that she had dropped my sweetheart down and had forgotten to pack her back. I was stuck inside the lunch box in the little girl’s bag, and my darling remained in the grass! I was helpless! What could I do? How could I get out there to bring her back to me? Oh love can be ferocious! It made me fearful!

Hours passed, and soon I could feel the bumpy ride back home – only this time it was not fun, it was utterly disturbing. What would have become of my love? What if she gets crushed under some feet? Horrible thoughts came to my mind. I had never felt more desperate in my life before. Love can be such distress! It made me so anxious!

As we reached home, the little girl opened her lunch box to find that she had lost her fork. She started crying. Her dad said he’d go to the park to find the lost fork for her. But she insisted that she’d go with him to do so. This made me feel a bit relieved. I could only pray that they’d find her there. I waited for more news. Love can be foolishly optimistic. It made me stupidly hopeful!

A few hours later the girl and her dad returned from their search, but empty handed. The girl was weeping, as she now had no matching fork for her lunch spoon. I was put into the drawer with the other spoons. I was in deep agony. My heart was completely broken and was weeping out loudly. I wanted to die. Why hadn’t the little girl left me in the park too? I had come to realize that I’d probably never ever see my sweetheart again! My fellow spoons noticed that I was sad. Some of them tried to console me. But all I wanted to do was sink into my sorrow and perish. Oh love can be such a pain. It made me hurt, hurt so much!

The next day the little girl received another special gift from her dad – another lovely pair of fork & spoon – shinier and prettier than me of course. Plus as it was a pair, so she preferred to use that one instead of me – I was now alone, lonely and really useless. The family would not use me as I did not have my matching partner! They’d prefer their forks and spoons to appear in pairs. So there I was, left all alone, sad and heart broken. Love had become solitude. It made me lonely!

One day the little girl’s mum was doing some house-keeping – getting rid of all objects that had been unused for over a few months. I was clearly one of them! I was put into a box of discarded metal items. With me was an old lamp, a rusty metal plate, some wires and a few iron rods. The box was placed out on the street for scavengers to pick up.

The scavenger who picked the box up sold it away to a mill. The items were then separated out and were kept ready for meltdown. I was placed in a huge pile of steel cutlery – all of which would soon be put into a huge machine that would melt down the steel so it could be used to make other articles.

So, my end was now nearing. If I could only ask for one last wish, I’d ask to have one look at my sweetheart, to tell her that I love her and always will. What a fool I had been to not have expressed my love to her, before I lost her. I shut my eyes tightly, trying hard not to weep. I was pressed against many other cutlery items in the pile, but I could hardly feel any physical pain. I was only thinking of her, and weeping within. Oh love can be such anguish! It made me feel tormented!

My eyes tightly shut, as I was thinking these thoughts, I could feel some vibrations. Yes, this was it. The pile was just being pushed into the machine. Just before we landed into the machine, I opened my eyes full of tears. Ah! What was that before my eyes? Was I dreaming? Was this true? I noticed in those last few seconds, her climber stuck right over my face. She was with me, we were dying together. My joy at that moment knew no bounds. Oh love can be such ecstasy! It made me feel blissed!