The very thought of meeting her estranged friend after years brought back nostalgic memories of those wonderful moments that had defined their lives. They had spent the prime of their youth together, in the same hostel room, sharing those little niggling secrets that failed to remain concealed within the ‘naughty heart’. Those were the days, when life was filled with mirth and bliss, and every man who passed their path, glared at their intoxicating beauty. They were the best of friends till one day, the strong emotional connect manifested itself into a fireball of mutual hatred. It was an unforgettable day, when their little insecurities snowballed into a controversy resulting in anger, mistrust, hatred and separation. It was the last time they shared a parting glance, to exist in a world ‘ignorant of the other’.

It was now over a decade. With passing time, their anger had turned into emotional pain. Both were deeply hurt at the unfortunate turn of events. There was a sense of regret that remained camouflaged due to their flaring ego. Both were unwilling to ‘give-up’ on their stance- “I’m right’, so they thought, but in true friendship there was never a ‘right’ or a ‘wrong’. There were days when Mona would sob in bed, unable to conceal her pain-‘the greater the attachment, the greater the pain in separation’.
With time, both got busy in their respective lives, creating a world for themselves. ‘It’s a forgotten chapter’ they convinced themselves, yet the niggling pain of separation would promptly pop up during moments of elation, diminishing the joy of a profound moment of success. During those good old days, a moment of elation would translate to an exaggerated conversation that lasted through the night. They shared life within the dingy confines of their little room.

Mona sat along the window of the car, feeling the warm breeze of the mid-summer afternoon. It was ages since she met her dear friend Reema. After years of defiance, she had finally mustered her courage to make amends. “It’s so silly to have fought that day”, she thought.

Maturity and a broader understanding of life today, made her feel foolish to have parted ways over trivial issues. It took years of coaxing and ‘ego-appeasement ‘to take this long ride to meet her friend. A mixture of emotions engulfed her mind. The possible reaction by Reema, on seeing her, was stirring an internal tsunami of possibilities. Unmindful of the disturbing heat, she kept gazing out of the window, staring at the passing fields like an aimless mind. Deep within were a deluge of emotions -fear, apprehension, pain and a tinge of happiness for having finally made a decision to meet her best friend.

Her car came to a grinding halt and she continued to gaze out of the window. A moment of unanticipated silence is all it took to bring her back to her senses. She was finally there, only a couple of moments that separated the two friends. It was a surprise visit and Mona only hoped that the visit wouldn’t turn sour. For a moment, she felt like asking her driver to retrace the path. After a moment of profound introspection, she finally mustered her courage and slowly stepped out of the car. Every step forward, was like an arduous walk up the mountain terrain. Her fingers gently pressed the calling bell. The soothing music of the bell pierced the hall. These were anxious moments of anticipation. The door slowly creaked open and a servant girl promptly struck her head out.

“Who’s it? “, came a voice.

“Reema? “, she gently replied, not knowing what to tell.
The servant girl disappeared to call her “Memsahib”, unable to infer an answer.

Mona stood in lonely bliss, gazing at the chirping birds, atop the roadside tree.

“ Mon..a” , a voice broke out .There was a moment of blankness. It was a familiar voice, a voice that she had cherished to hear.

She looked around and their eyes met. The two gazed at each other, overwhelmed by the gravity of the moment. There was a prolonged moment of silence.

Would there be an outburst of inflated emotions?

Mona stood anticipating the worst. She was for once reminded of that unforgiving day.

The hanging wall clock, promptly rang the ‘hour bell’, bringing both back to their senses.

Reema slowly broke into a hesitant smile. There were unexplainable emotions of joy and regret. She had been waiting for this day since ages. She didn’t know what to say.

“You have put on weight”, she finally blurted.

“So have you “, replied Reema in a heavy voice.

In a moment, the pile of inhibition was shattered by words of irrelevance.

The two friends hugged each other in a moment of ‘reconciliatory bliss’. Tears rolled down those feminine cheeks, shedding their emotions that had wrecked havoc all these years. These were moments of infinite and indescribable joy.

In a while, the two were back to their witty best, cracking jokes on the foolish acts of their yesteryears. It never seemed they had parted ways.

God alone knew, what kept them away this long.

Relationships are bound to have differences; it is for us to bridge the gap.

Life is too small to crib over yesterday’s and worry about tomorrow’s.

Make a difference in your life, by bridging the gap with your loved ones!

It was well past 12 in the night and for a moment she felt a sudden surge of insecurity in the darkness of the club. The dim lights flashing across the room, made her feel secure in the obscure world, lest ‘known faces’ notice her. With every sip of Vodka, she felt the ominous presence of her father. She blurted apologies, falling on her knees, begging forgiveness, while her colleagues joined her emotional outcry, spilling beer as “One sane soul consoled the other”. Her father had been a disciplinarian, with strongly rooted values. With every sip of the drink, there was a growing sense of guilt and in order to overcome her pain she gulped a large at one go. She profusely cried like a child, while the loud music and darkness, camouflaged her emotions. It was insane, but she wanted to be insane to vent her concealed emotions of being in an estranged world.

She was being a “put on” since the time she landed in this city of opportunities. There was a sense of being the ‘chosen one’, when she set foot. With time, the whirlwind of sophistication had swept her away. She now took pride in being one amongst the “Gen-X”- It was cool, happening and the”in-thing”. The corporate world was all a ‘put on ‘, she convinced herself. It was a necessary evil and she was accustomed to her habits, which seemed awkward and disgusting a couple of years ago, when she viewed the world from her little town. She was now a ‘city girl ‘, she had always dreamt of being one. Her simple parents took pride in her status of being a graduate, employed with an MNC- a tag to fetch her “well-educated “groom. She cared little for marriage. He had begun to love her newfound freedom.

With passing time, she hoped to get home, but the soothing liquor and her coveted friends kept her hooked. As a friend filled the glass, she resisted, but the compelling voices forced her into another drink. She was dazed and the world seemed to be revolving at lightning speed. The flashing lights were blinding and there was an uneasy sensation of an internal hurricane. She held back her feelings, in an effort to prevent an exhibition of her drunken state. Moments later there was an upsurge, as she threw up on the floor, sending her friends into a tizzy, each examining the state of their attire. She fumbled her way to the restroom, to tidy herself. There was a tinge of shame, but in her intoxicated state she had little control over her senses. After an animated apology, it was well past 2 am when she slowly crept back into her friend’s car. “Drop me home, my sweeett home” she blabbered, as the world turned dark.

A vigorous shake and a frustrated yell, brought back some sense .She dragged her out, bidding a vociferous farewell, to the speeding car. As she got to gate, she noticed a human figure seated besides the door. There was a moment of apprehension and fear. Mustering her diminishing courage she blurted

“Who’s it?”

A wrinkled old lady slowly appeared. She seemed familiar. Even in an intoxicated state, no one forgets his or her mother. Her mother had travelled day long from the town to stay with her beloved daughter for a few days

“Why are you here? “She yelled, trying to conceal her mountain of guilt. She felt awkward, disgusted and shattered. She never wanted her mother to see her in this state.

Her mom quietly unlatched the door, as silent drops wetted her cheeks. There was an uneasy silence. They never spoke again that night. Two minds were wide-awake in bed, dealing with varied emotions-one of guilt, the other of shock and disbelief.

Don’t be a ‘put on’ (fake); It never helps your cause!

He was all of thirteen, short, slim and charming. With the characteristic school bag that seemingly weighed a ton, he set out from home to school. Typical of a school kid, he bid adieu to his parents and joyously strolled down the street, kicking the stones along the way. As the little one turned around the corner, out came a little pack of cigarettes that had been cleverly concealed in the bag .In the cover of a tree, away from the busy din, he puffed his way to glory. With every puff he felt like he was growing in age. Little did he care to get to school. All he felt was a sense of independence – the liberation of an impressionable mind. He loitered, picking junk food along the way. The ‘stolen’ pocket money seemed like a fortune that he had inherited from his ancestors. The poor servant girl at home was now looked with an eye of suspicion for the money that was being systematically siphoned away every week. With every successful theft his confidence was growing. He took pride in timing himself to perfection.

As he made his way to the Boys Hostel Ground, he picked another pack of cigarettes, in order to befriend the older boys playing cricket. They had happily accommodated him as a’ Ball Boy’, giving him an opportunity to face 3 balls at the end of the day, an incentive to keep him on guard throughout the match .He stood along the boundary in the midday sun, awaiting a masterstroke from the batsmen. As the batsman took guard, he sat on the bench visualizing him to be the man of the hour, dispatching each ball to the boundary, while his classmates stood cheering him for another six!

He remained amused, dreaming of his hour of fame. His undying thirst to grow popular amongst the pretty girls at class had driven him into playing cricket. His ‘enemy friend’ back at school, was a popular sportsman who bragged of his exploits in the game. It was ‘cool’ to be a cricketer, so he thought when a ball struck him like a bolt of lightning. He seemed to be in an illusion, as he fell with a thud spontaneously crying out for his mother.
Life is funny, we seek happiness in the unconquered, but in times of need cry for help, seeking the presence of our dear one’s. Deep within he knew that his cry would only be heard by his otherwise authoritarian mother, who had imposed a Hitler’s regime at home. All along, he hoped to remain away from her grabs, till the ball hit his rosy cheeks, damaging the jaw. He lay in mud, wilting in pain, as the blinding sun was beating it’s anvil on the ground. The senior boys rushed to the boundary to enquire of their loyal admirer. Tears stormed his eyes, but the very thought of being embarrassed amongst ‘real men’, held them back. Like a valiant soldier injured in a battlefield, he rose from the dust proclaiming his well being, while in reality he was digesting unbearable pain. A few words of praise and his newfound friends resumed their game, unmindful of his condition.

It was well beyond afternoon when he made a slow and painful walk back home. A sense of worry, a fear of having to field obvious questions engulfed his mind. He cursed his luck, preparing on the probable questions he would have to tackle. As he reached the corner bakery, the hunger pangs made a timely entry. He ordered for a Cream Bun and a Cool drink. The first bite and he yelled, unable to bear the pain in his jaws. Tears rolled down his cheeks, while the bakery owner looked sympathetically, offering him ice cubes to mend to the injury. He quickly left the shop, to prevent further embarrassment. The stray dog that had positioned itself beside the bakery was overwhelmed at feasting on an entire bun, as our little hero walked home, wiping away the tears that had made an unpleasant entry.
He momentarily hesitated at the gate, mustering his courage to tackle the obvious. A terrified look on his mothers face said it all. She seemed to have lost her senses on seeing the disfigured state of her adorable darling, frantically feeling his jaws to measure the magnitude of his injury. There was a battery of questions from his inconsolable mother. He remained mum for a while and when silence prevailed, he narrated the scripted version of having been hit by a cricket ball during the sports hour at school. She hastily dialed the family doctor seeking advice. An hour later, he found himself at clinic. After a few moments of animated suspense, the doctor declared that the jawbone wasn’t broken, much to her relief.

He retired to bed early that night, while she sat beside him softly massaging the little cheeks. He slowly slipped into sleep and she moved away to inspect the school uniform that had been dirtied beyond recognition .As she held the dress, an unpleasant odour engulfed the air. She felt a sense of discomfort, as she held it close to the nostrils. She couldn’t tolerate the pungent smell of nicotine. For a moment, she visualized the worst, mentally detesting the thought that her child was addicted to tobacco.

‘I have brought him up as a well-mannered boy “, she convinced herself “He is being provided with the best in life “.

With every passing moment, she sought an answer to her growing suspicion, all along hoping that she was wrong in her judgment. As she frantically scrutinized his trouser, she found scattered bits of tobacco that remained glued to the inner pockets. In disbelief, she dumped the trouser on the floor and picked his school bag to confirm the inevitable.

A pack of cigarettes emerged from the little pouch. For the first time in life, she was holding a packet of cigarettes, unimaginable for a traditional woman like her. She felt disgraced, devastated and worthless. She had failed, failed miserably as a mother. Till then, she boosted of being a worthy mother, hell bent on discipline and behavior. Every mistake or act of indiscipline translated into a whip. Somewhere down, she had failed to connect to the fickle mind , that was seeking answers .Her busy schedules , million dollar meetings , growing pressure and hectic lifestyle had taken it’s tool. The inherent authoritarian trait had refrained her from being his best friend. Today, she felt like beating herself. The little boy was fast asleep, oblivious of the latest happenings. She resolved to accompany him to school the following day, to track his progress. She resolved never to whip him again. All through the night she wept inconsolably, seeking relief in the tears that failed to cease.

Authority does not provide the desired results, Care does!

This could be happening in our own backyard. It’s time to reflect.

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