People Change. Memories Don't.

Sometimes I believe, 'I am good for nothing.'

It really surprises me, when people spend a life time doing the same work and are recognized for their contribution. I am surely never be in that category. For me, 'I am a woman of thousand passions', how can I lay my hands just for one thing in life, when I love everything in life and every new seed exicite s me like , I am seeing a new born baby.

My thoughts and may passion vary every day and more better if I say each hour or each moment. So when I get up, I think of something and talk to myself and then next moment it will something else and I recite many times, before I can jot down or finding time to do so, but by the time, I find time to do so, I forget what was it all about and then curse myself for being so forgetful. As I thought so well I had engrave in my mind and how now I donot even find a thread of it? Mind or brain is something very mean at times, thousands of thought and connections you can find literally. Something as silly as ever can just pop up from your memory and as it came up will vanish with the same speed.

Some few moments back, I remembered a childhood friends home especially her Indian style toilet. I haven't seen as yet any such room in many  homes or flats I have been so far. It is now, I realize, why in the modern world such a place is called a  restroom. Indeed, it was a maintained well. It had a beautiful cane rack fixed on the wall. There were neatly arranged choicest books for reading. On the opposite wall, was a glass vase with a money plant in it. The toilet was so spick and span, that, it gave an impression of a quite reading room.  Ah ha! Wasn't this a fantastic and novel idea, just to be yourself in the most relaxing position and having a quite time reading the choicest book you want? Indeed! But back then, I was stuck in the rituals of the do's  and the don'ts. We as Hindus relate everything to God and take everything to the next level and in turn maybe we skip the small pleasures of life? To be precise, we consider books as Goddess Saraswati and how can we keep are Goddess in the most unsacred place? No never. It was considered a sin and couldnot even dream of something like this anytime. Maybe I never ever, even discussed this idea with my mother, even though she was quite open minded.

I still remember this friends house and her family very distinctly and of course they seemed very well off, than what we were then. It was a beautiful double storeyed house, shared by the two brothers. My friend lived on the 1 st floor whereas her uncle lived on the ground floor. Her name was Rini. She had a twin siblings one boy and one girl and her parents seemed from well to do families and in my observation were quite deciplined and strict parents. However, childhood has no bounds and no limitations, for some unknown reasons our friendship lasted just over a year.

I still remember, going to her house often during that year, we would play all sorts of games till late evening and since she had strict warning to retire home by 6 pm, she would turn the clock behind by an hour or so, how stupid we can be? As if our parents would not know the actual time.

Entering her house was always a big daring as I was greeted by a large breed dog, who was always ready for a kill, but I braved him very time I visited her. Also most of time, he was tied and would just bark loudly than doing any harm to anyone. Then there was a small breed dog mostly a  Pomeranian, I believe.

That's was the first time, I had a real encounter with dogs going to her house. You know keeping breed dogs was not so common those days, only people who had the means would do so.

However, later, I learnt that these dogs were kept as a means for making a living and her father wasn't gainfully employed anywhere. However, for some reason, it didnot bother me much then. But I remember the care her father took once they had a litter. He would feed milk to the puppies with a bottle from time to time, holding them in his arms and rocking them. It was indeed a wonderful scene for a first timer like me. Everything seemed new to me and despite no regular inflow of money they maintained themselves very well. With our fading friendship, I stopped visiting her and lept her behind my mind, finding my way  walking the path of life. I would hear stories of this friend from some other common friends (another Suma) and how she is a eluding from focusing on studies and getting involved in teenage affairs in school, which had spoilt her name. I did a good listeners job, not really allowing her thought to occupy or bother me even for a moment.

Eventually, I moved to Mumbai and got involved in my new world. It was after a year when I returned to Nagpur, I remember, I ran into her. She was so nice to me and spoke with amazing ease. I must say now, she had definitely matured over the years, but her hearsay stories kept me aloof from her, though she insisted, I must come over to her house, while  I was still in Nagpur during that summer. I donot know, but often times in my shaping years, I never listened to my inner call but behaved and took decisions based on others experiences or beliefs. I missed a great chance to rebuild this lost friendship.

Few years later, when I happened to visit Nagpur, the entire building where she lived, was gone. Instead a hospital stood over that place.

Someone told me, her father took to heavy drinking in later years and died on the staircase of their flat. I did feel sad to hear this. He was surely born to a rich man and had lived a prosperous life with his father's earnings, but since he never had any source of steady income, life might have been hard for him. However, his downstairs brother did had some petty government job, I knew. Making a living and taking care of the growing family of 5 with doing all sorts of odd jobs wasn't a joke. My friends mother too did some odd jobs, I remember. But you know in a marriage, anything, anytime, anywhere something can go wrong and like a glass, once broken cannot be mended. I am sure, it must have been the same, which led him to this tragic end. I often do think of her and her family. I surely cherish those beautiful moments we, as innocent kids enjoyed, the games we played, the healthy competition we had to strive better, the school holidays we spent together and the weekends racing a bycle and finally the sudden breakup for no reason and I also remember, how I cried standing in the school balcony in front of the library, when it all became quite obvious to me. All seem just yesterday.

And still, after years, she spoke to me as if nothing had happened. Since few years with the boom of facebook, I suddenly found a new hope and thought of finding her. If she could forgive me, there was nothing that could hold me back from going back to her. Yes, with experience, I too learnt, "there is much peace in forgiving others than holding the hatred within." So I did tried to search her through facebook, but with no luck so far. However, I do feel optimistic today, maybe be fate will bring us someday and we both will just bump in each other, just the way we did on a summer morning of 1981.