I lost a best friend, I found one and I gained one more

It was very sunlit Sunday, routinely in summer. However you cannot contradict about the temperature swell each passing year; global warming or environmental pollution, just take the name of whatever you are aware of, because everything is the reason behind and many more you can’t even think of. Well, I finished my prayers followed by hot served lunch on my dining table. Wanted to relax but you see, there was something I am obsessed with, that doesn’t allow me take a nap in the afternoons even if my body gives up totally tired. I am not regretting about my obsession as I am just one of the 85% of the literate population obsessed with it; facebook. As per the most recent survey conducted by one of the organizations handling social networking sites, even when they have a flight to catch in emergency, users can’t wait to post or tweet about the reasons behind the situation they are in. Seems like it’s easy for smokers to quit cigarette than users to “un-use” their facebook or twitter accounts. Something interests me every time I sign in. With eyes wide open to the notifications menu, I decided to first check on the 14 new friend requests I received that day. All surely belong to my nature of work but just one name grabbed my attention.

Shanti, one of my childhood best friends, whom I love so much and been trying to trace since my college. She was my super senior in high school but we shared a lot of things in common. When she became the 1^st representative of the boarding the following year, we managed to move to one room, as anyway 2 members (1 senior and 1 junior) were given one room for one whole academic year. We lived in our own world during our boarding and allowed none except our Matron into our room. Few months down the line, we were impressed by one girl Jani who was the driver’s daughter but that did not matter to us like it did to others. Jani soon joined us in our room in the evenings to play indoor games with us. But we never played after that. Shanti sang and Jani danced while I played the rhythms on the chairs or anything available in plastic in that room. Jani had a child-marriage and left all of a sudden. We dint know anything about her later as the driver also had a transfer. Shanti, being my super senior, helped me overcome the deviations I had due to Jani’s absence. She gave her time in my study hours. She made sure I did everything as per schedules of our school and boarding. Even after her exams are done earlier to mine, she stayed back till I am done with all my papers. We exchanged our postal addresses and left to homes for vacation of 8 weeks. We wrote letters every week and so we actually dint miss each other. I dint skip mentioning Jani in each letter, wishing she at least left her address. 5 weeks later, exam results were in and we wrote to each other about it. I only then realized that she actually has completed her high school and need not get back to our boarding after vacation. I wrote a really long letter to her that included all my amateur poems about how much I am going to miss her. I did not receive any reply to that. A week later again, I received an Archie’s greeting card that said “I love you and miss you so much my friend”.  I wrote back how much happy I felt. I longed for a reply and haven’t received any. It’s been 16 years now.

My reminiscences refreshed with the name popped up friend request from Shanti. I went through her profile only to become conscious that it’s not the same girl. I was taken aback once again. All I did for the next couple of hours was gaze, gaze into my computer screen as if I was in a trance. I came back to my senses on the earsplitting rings of my intercom. “Madam, this is Pasha from the security. One Mr. Gautam ji from the LIC would like to meet you. Says he has an appointment with you now”. I looked at my appointments plank hung to the wall. It said 4pm - Mr. Gautam Girish, LIC agent. “Guide him in please”. I hastily fixed my hair and took a yawning glimpse at myself in the mirror just to make sure I looked tolerable. The door bell rang exactly when I signed out of my facebook account. I greeted him in with a glass of water. I could not resist but appreciate his selling skills as he left, with 3 quarterly payment cheques from me in advance to the policy I applied 20 minutes ago!

Dinner time and I was sharing the experiences with my husband. We both believed that sharing is also essential along with understanding and accepting each other to sustain a good relationship,.  “I guess you have tons for your dairy today”, was his only comment. “Just make sure you don’t sit all night gazing at the computer again”.

Google is one of the best internet fonts I have ever known. I learned a lot here and my eventual opinion is that I never get disappointed with its supplies. I opened the search engine and googled her full name, which I never attempted earlier. The sight of my computer screen energized me. At least 6 references matching! I went through one by one and understood that Shanti was in fact applying for the position of a teacher with the government sector and those were the results displayed at various points of time. But no contact details available yet. This time I tried by her father’s name joining the same surname. I remember his name from the c/o address I wrote letters to. Credit to my guesses, BSNL telephone directory is the first reference that matched. I know the address up there, though now refreshing, no change in the door number or anything! Above it, I have her phone number now! How exciting! I just found one of my best friends whom I lost in touch 16 years ago! I quickly noted down the details and without any pause knelt down and thanked God for the precious moments. I was about to dial her number but something struck me and I got back to Google. Jani is just her nick name and I hardly was sure if she had any first name. So my search proceeded with her father’s name. Surname sets are very rare in south India. If Puri is a surname in south India, all those numerable people with Puri as their surname are somewhere connected. So it was easy. But in north India, if I have to find a Rohit with Sharma as his last name, I end up with at least a lakh people from whom I have to hit upon the one I wanted. That is exactly what happened with me, immediately not ending up with a lakh people luckily. Finally after striking 26 wrong numbers, the 27^th number hit a very close relative of Jani. In fact, it was her aunt living exactly two streets away to Jani’s house. She asked me to call back in an hour while she can pass on the info to Jani and bring her there to her residence. She also clearly stated that Jani carries a mobile however she cannot pass on the mobile number to any stranger without Jani’s concern. I really appreciated her within and disconnected the call. I felt at that moment that it was the longest hour I ever had. So I took a notepad and jotted out those amusing things we did when we were together. The minutes hand in the clock signed for another 15 minutes to clutch onto before I redialed the number. I went into the kitchen and grabbed for myself a full double-scoop of butterscotch ice-cream from the refrigerator. I also warmed up the chocolate soup and poured it on top of the evenly melting scoops. Took a glance at the minutes hand. 7 minutes to go. It struck to me at once that everything is fair in love and war. It was so stupid of that consideration and has no connection to what I was doing, I know. But longing for my best friend is no less than Romeo-Juliet’s love. I dialed up and the voice that answered the call was not the same aunty. Though I failed to distinguish that matured voice, the agitated and affectionate hello itself alerted me that it was my long lost friend. I was astounded to the bliss of the moment. With shivering voices, we spoke for hours. To my surprise, it was then that I felt I had the shortest hours of my life. We talked about everything on earth we experienced in those 16 years. I missed her when I was a high school kid and now, she herself is a mother of two high school kids! At some point in our conversation I realized she never forgot me. If truth be told, her family knew me by my name! We exchanged numbers and I invited her home with family. I also promised her a surprise.

Months passed and the summer vacation started. I booked the train tickets for Jani and her family to Mumbai. The day came finally and they were here. Her husband Mr. Murthy, short dark and plumpy in looks but a heart as clean and clear as his bald head. Her children over Mr. Murthy’s stature emerged as mischievous as any high school toddlers. For me, love for my ‘lost and found’ friend roofed up everything. But it’s an incorrect statement that only a mother could stand her children who cause damages worth lakhs just in few days. I should be grateful to my husband who wordlessly left to work posting notes like “what’s next”, “do they at least know it’s an antique”, “how much is my next swipe”, etc for me every morning.

Twenty days passed and they have sight seen almost every tourist vicinity of Mumbai city. At the end, I realized one thing. It’s only me who enjoyed spending time at Mumbai’s treasures like Gateway of India, Museum, Art galleries, National Park or even Lunavla. The whole family only enjoyed the beaches of Juhu and

Charni Road

and the coaster rides of Essel World.  For the next five days, I guided them to Shirdi and Bhimashankar, pilgrimage places near to Mumbai that they dreamt to visit at least for once in their lifetime. I couldn’t join them but ensured all arrangements were taken care of. Meanwhile, I was with my team at Rajkot scouting locations for our next film project. I travel quite frequently and I always enjoy long drives or nippy trips. Guess it’s not the same with everybody. Jani and her family were awfully exhausted when they returned. It took them a week of complete bed rest to recover.

Jani reminded me of the surprise I was talking about. I narrated her whole incident that helped me trace her.  I told her I dint speak to Shanti yet because I was unsure if my family could handle so many guests at home. I dint guess then that my uncertainty cropped up for a reason. We dialed Shanti’s number from my mobile and her mother answered the call passing us on another landline number after believing our cock and bull story that we all high schoolmates were having a get-together party with our families and we got all numbers from the principal. You would laugh if I told you that Mr. Murthy had to impersonate as our principal and Jani with her children and me had to be four different students of our batch to make her accept as true. We had to do this because she was a very tough lady to handle and we dint want to lose any opportunity getting back to our best friend. Whatever, we got what we wanted and got in touch with Shanti only to realize that she remained our best friend no more. I spoke to her first putting the call on speaker mode and had to razor-sharp her brain to acknowledge myself, even after telling her my name. It was clear she was purposefully doing it but we thought she wanted to fool around with us as she was known to be the nuttiest student of her batch. As we spoke, I recognized the attitude she put on, especially when she said she recently returned to India and does not have any Indian best friends in her list. She refused to give any details of her, even a simple answer like if she is a mother. Most of our conversation was like a strange banker’s questionnaire for a loan you have not applied, the banker shoots a question and you hesitate to reply in a yes or no. I handed over the mobile to Jani and went to my cupboard to pick up the greeting card I received from her last. It took me about 3 minutes to do that but Jani was very upset by then. I read out her messages and wondered how she could forget someone from her childhood whom she loved so much to which she indifferently reacted that she is a spiritual person now and that she does not have any time for this. I apologized assuming if I disturbed her in her praying hours and checked if I could call back later so she can speak properly. She unsympathetically responded that she does not have any business with such people who get back to her claiming to be her best friends just because she is rich now and she never wanted to get in touch with us thereafter. I dint want to prolong the call after hearing that statement. “God bless you Shanti”, I said and disconnected the call. Jani was still upset on Shanti’s ruthless response “Driver’s daughter and MY best friend? SHIT”, I can make that out, and she was controlling her tears. The whole day we dint speak about it at all. Mr. Murthy was alternately upset about what happened, for after all he joined us with his children to get our best friends together. When my husband joined us for dinner, he simply said, “Money could make a difference”. I don’t agree to that completely but what happened was not what we expected from a childhood best buddy like Shanti. Two days passed and the atmosphere was not so good at home. Third day evening, my husband appeared with a stapled booklet at dinner table. We were all speechless to the information he ungrounded about Shanti. He just said that a landline number is enough for any techy brain like him to do a lot of things.

Shanti was married to a less literate Muslim guy before she could pass out her graduation. They attempted for jobs in the government sector multiple times and failed. Their education or experience did not fetch them good jobs in the private sector as well. Still they managed to live well-off with the inherited assets. Meanwhile, having the burden of rising up two daughters made them leave to Japan country where they were offered some private jobs in a shipping company as laborers. They earned well there and presented themselves as ‘foreign residents’ during their visits to India once every year. This went on for good number of years until Japan was hit by the Tsunami a year ago and her husband befallen physically handicapped and ineligible to be offered a job. So under stressful circumstances, their family had to return back to India and live with the financial support from each of their parents. They had many family visitors and friends exhibiting false compassion. So they had to sell the donated shares of their siblings and get themselves a house of their own to live in, though far from their maternal homes and distant relatives to keep up their respect and attitude that they presented all these years. In the cycle, they disconnected all their contacts and started a new life disregarding everybody except for their parents. Shanti now works as a teacher in a private school and helps her husband take tuitions at home for elementary school kids. They children are in a government regional medium school continuing their mid school where education and food is provided. Though the family lives in a residential area, their neighbors hardly know anything about them except of how the family makes their living. Shanti and her family restricted themselves to befriend anybody, even her kids trail her. They do not even go to Church but continue in family prayers at home, all by themselves. The colony members feel that the family minds its own business.

We were really impressed by my husband’s job. He did it only for our sake, because he also is a person who minds his own business. Shanti had her own reasons for behaving so with her childhood best friends. We wanted to see her again and embrace her but my husband stopped us. He said that if we do anything like that, we are only making things worse, like making her shun herself even more. All we could do is pray for her and hope for a better future. It’s more than a month and the vacation was almost over. Jani and her family wanted to get back to their village. I booked them the return tickets two days later. Those two days, with the permission from our husbands, Jani and I went to Gorai to spend two days. We spoke a lot of things as friends, lots of suggestions and commitments to each other to keep our friendship last forever. When we returned, there were lot of things we learned about each other. As children, we befriend so many who give us company in school, playground, Churches, streets or neighboring homes. As we grow, the number of friends decreases because we concentrate or we are compelled to concentrate on things that more helps us settle in life. And when we look back after reaching certain stage, be it the best or the worst, best friends are the ones who are still visible and who can make you feel they belong to you personally in all your good and bad. Circumstances may change, but best friends remain. That day I realized one thing for my husband. I lost a best friend, I found one and I gained one more.

It’s a month’s course of life I can say. I had to bid them bye for then, I know they follow home the next summer but it’s difficult to stay cool when your best friend is leaving for a year. Sitting in the train, we refreshed our thoughts again. Her sons troubling me for little things like crying for chicken fry in Borivali national park or for biryani on the Charni Rd beach, the 42”LED TV they broke into two I cant get to repair again, the money in thousands I spent on stupid games like aiming the gun at a keychain or a detergent soap, the time I have spent for her family refusing any projects for a month, I laughed out loud as nothing appeared a loss in front of my best friend. Mr. Murthy was meek enough to apologize for the losses though. The signal was given and I handed a packed in Jani’s and Mr. Murthy’s hands. I presented them both with Nokia smart touch phones, kissed Jani and kids goodbye and got down the train. I started back home only after their train vanished out of my sight. The quick travel from the main station to my station went unnoticed due to the memories of my best friend. Tears filled eyes emptied the limited set of tissues I carried with me. Back home finally, now all by myself. It would take time to get used to noiseless home, or mornings bed and working nights, or talk and eat to myself. As I stepped in, the notice board read “Now stop crying and have oats from the oven and green tea from the kettle. They should be warm still. Later you can have all the vanilla”. Oh my sweet husband. He knew me so much. I washed my face and went to the bedroom to do my dress-change. There’s this small post-it note on the cupboard “Don’t you ever talk to me about savings again”.