'....my Glory was I had such friends'

IndiSpire #62

Hi-fives to true friendship!

“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. "Pooh?" he whispered.
"Yes, Piglet?"
"Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's hand. "I just wanted to be sure of you.”
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh 

“Friendship is born at that moment when one man says to another: "What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . ."”
― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves  

I just smiled when I read these two quotes. They actually sum up what real friendship is. When you have complete trust in each other, when you know that s/he will always be there for you, that is the foundation of true friendship. And when you get positive vibes from the other person, when your frequencies match, when you share the same wavelength, that is the beginning of true friendship.

Does it matter whether you have friends of the same sex or the opposite sex?
No.

True friends are just that - true friends.
Gender, race, caste, status - nothing matters in true frienship.

Is it possible to have friends of the opposite sex?
Well, why not? After all, all it takes is two willing hearts joined together by a bond that in unbreakable, that is pure and platonic.

Does our society encourage such bonds?
NO. Sadly, this is the reason why we often see best friends of the same sex flocking together.

Remember the time when we were kids? Did it matter then who we played with? Boy or girl? Did our parents or the society reprimand us if we played with the opposite sex? No, they just didn't care.

But then we grew up. We started internalizing the norms of the society. Boys vs. Girls became the funda of life.

Our mind, our mentalities, our thoughts - they all became social constructs. We acted just the way our surroundings attuned us. We internalized the stereotypes.

The culture that we are all a part of always views friendship of the opposite sex with doubt and mistrust. Suspicious glances and watchful eyes try to tarnish the purity of such relationships.

Should we care about such unwanted, leery gazes? I guess not. A pure heart knows no fear.

As for the 'need' for friends of the opposite sex, I feel that what we all need is trustworthy and dependable friends.

Nothing else matters.

Let us all be blessed with true friends. Let us all be true friends. So that when we reach our twilight years, we all can say like Yeats," ....my glory was I had such friends".


[Do share your thoughts on the post. Also, if you can, please spare some time to read a short story on friendship I wrote earlier. Click here]

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The Hummingbird Flies Away

Sharing food, friendship and love...

We had dinner together yesterday. One more time we sat together, ate and cracked jokes. One more time before one of us flies away to pursue her career. All of us wanted to say something about the one who leaves but words failed us and a flood of feelings drowned us all. While returning home I thought of  a tree laden with fruits. When one fruit ripens, it falls down and leaves the tree to spread its sweetness somewhere else. The tree feels hurt. New fruits keep growing. But whenever a fruit falls, the tree feels bare.

The more I think of our group, the more it fascinates me. We have come from far and formed an unbreakable bond. I used to think that fast friends were made in schools or colleges. But it happened to me after that too. In fact, it happened after my motherhood. My thoughts kept me awake and my mind pondered on each one of them. I wish to celebrate these charming friends here. But I refrain from using their names. Rather I name them as I see them and you my reader may find one of your friend praised here. After all, we all make everlasting friends and then we dote on each other. So here's to those amigos:

Eat, laugh and be merry - Her life's mantra!

I begin with the Zany, the quipster of our gang. She was the first one to move away, breaking our hearts. The first time she told me, I was shocked into silence. I could not eat, I could not smile. I was angry at her for doing this to me. It has been so long but it seems we met yesterday. She never fails to make you laugh. She has the head-start in making friends. Jokes can never fall flat when she is around since she has the knack of bringing out humor in the drabbest situation. Her heart is like an open book. You read and read and read, and you laugh and laugh and laugh. You can spot her in hairbands often and somebody rightly termed her the hairband girl. She sometimes makes me imagine a female Laughing Buddha minus the rotundness. I wonder why she doesn't gain weight despite being a foodie. If you are cooking a sumptuous meal, or a spicy snack and you are gossiping without offering her anything, she gets fidgety, frowns, and says, 'Let us start eating.'

Playful Mom who always manages to make us laugh!

Next in line is our small wonder. She is the Juicy Lass. She carries with her an invisible bag of jokes. Her repertoire is always fresh and overflowing with double entendres. She somehow tries to keep her sanity intact as she juggles between her son who is a Ninja warrior and her daughter who is a delicate daffodil. I love her expressions when she looks at my son who is gaining height fast and wonders that soon he will be taller than her. She is an exciting combination of a mom and a naughty girl. Her 'fanda' about life is very clear. She is not the one who will dilly-dally over small things. She has a very practical approach to life and will be more than happy if you give her a good thought to think over. Given her practical nature, she surprises me when I see tears in her eyes as she sees a friend leaving. She wonders why this should happen. It would have been better if we never met, she feels. Well, especially for you my lass, I remember the words of the great poet Tennyson

It's better to have loved and lost
than never to have loved at all...

How in the world can we let go of the countless moments we have shared - in joy and in sorrow. We have been together, healing and humoring each other. So, today too, lets just go with the flow, just like you said to me one day.

Should I admire the mom more or the baby!

I move on to Prada. She is the fashion belle. She is the chic, stylish, upscale girl. She loves to have a good picture clicked of her. And she is lucky to have a patient husband. She is the one who has so many stories to share - about how she celebrated her birthday, her anniversary, her valentine day and so on. She is a perfectionist too. Her beautiful home testifies to this. When my unmindful husband visited her place, even he said to me , 'How do they keep the house so organised? She is your friend, how come you never asked her?' And I just smiled. Well, Prada can do anything and Prada can get anything done. And the list of her skills does not end here. Prada is a bewitching dancer and a superb artist. I still remember the day my daughter was born and she gave me a beautiful card on which had paper-quilled two pink feet, done by her own hands. I can just go on and on about her but I often want to ask her something - Given her drool-worthy wardrobe and shoe-collection, if she has to go somewhere for two days, how does she choose which ones to take and how heavy is her bag!

Yellow and green and beauty in between...!

Now comes the one who is breaking our heart this time - the Humming bird. I don't know why I call her so. Maybe because I read somewhere how strong the hummingbirds are despite their tiny stature. I have read that the hummingbird can take a non-stop journey of 500 miles which takes about 18-22 hours. My friend has the same tenacity, the same perseverance. And she keeps humming too. She is the chirpy chatter-box and complements well with our Juicy Lass cracking jokes. She is the one who can comprehend both the most obscure and the most obvious jests. When I think of her, I think of colors too. She reminds me of both spring and Fall when vibrant colors deck the nature and make the world so captivating. Be it bold pinks or vibrant yellows or spotless whites, she wears them all with unmatched confidence and cheer. No wonder Prada and Humming bird gel so well. Another feather to her cap - her art. It is something I lately discovered. I can picture her mastering her strokes as I gaze on the painting she gifted me that I have put on the wall. I marvel how interesting her persona is.

Best freinds and soul mates!

So much so for this tremendous group I have been a part of. That day when we went down the memory lane, I realized I had been absent so often. But I still remain a part of this group despite being well, so different. I had asked all of them to describe each one of us in one word. I put below the words and praises that each one has for the other

Zany - Prada calls you gregarious, Hummingbird finds you mirthful and Juicy Lass calls you candid.

Juicy Lass - Prada finds you naughty, Hummingbird thinks you are 'love guru' and Zany calls you 'extrovert, practical, one who gives best information and best practical advice and 'yaaron ka yaar'.

Prada - Zany finds you 'bold and full of confidence', one who wants everything perfect, one who will not make many friends but will give her 100% to those whom you befriend. Hummingbird calls you 'bosom buddy'. Juicy Lass finds you 'thoughtful and helpful'.

Hummingbird - Prada calls you her 'soul sister' and finds you 'convivial'. Zany feels you are 'impressive', 'determined' , one with 'bright positive vibes', and 'the best friend to be a friend with'. Juicy Lass thinks you are 'optimistic'.

As for me, you all called me 'altruistic' (Hummingbird), intellectual (Prada), strong-willed and tough(Zany)  and affectionate(Juicy Lass). 

Need I say more before the Hummingbird flies away.....

Another one!

And when all of us were together

Good Times!

Beyond Words

Words are deep. Words are poignant, passionate, meaningful. They clarify, they state, they symbolize, they express. But there is a world beyond words - a world so intense and thoughtful that it outreaches the boundaries of language. It is a realm where feelings cannot be stated verbally, where the Maker muted the voices. Who knows if it was a contrivance on His part to let passions flow through a different, purer medium. Hazel had never met this world before, never until she met Scarlet.

Hazel was new in town. She had just moved in. For the past three days she had been busy setting up her things and had hardly left the house. Feeling overwhelmed by the boredom of it all, she decided to go out. The shore was so near that she could hear the ocean. The splashing waves kissed the shore and receded leaving behind wet sand, some pebbles and some sea-shells. Hazel picked up her violin and stepped out. She headed toward the shore joyfully. She looked at the new neighborhood and the house adjacent to hers. The house was quiet. She wondered who lived there. The blinds were open but it seemed that the house was empty.

Hazel reached the shore and immersed herself in music. Violin was her soul-mate. The music that poured out was perfect. It seemed that the waves danced to Hazel's strings. The scene was idyllic in its beauty, blissfully melodious and content. An hour passed. As the sky turned its hue, bidding goodbye to the day, Hazel traced her steps back. She again cast a look at her neighboring house. The lights were on. So there was someone inside. Her talkative self craved to have a word with someone. She decided to knock on the door and say hello. She tapped on the front door. There was no answer. She tapped again. Still no answer. As Hazel retreated, she saw a figure peeping through the window. When the spying figure realized she had been discovered, she hid behind. Hazel waited for a few seconds, intrigued. But there was no movement inside.

The next day Hazel spotted her watcher. She was a tall beautiful girl, almost Hazel's age. Before Hazel could reach her, she disappeared again. It became like a game between the two of them. And it continued for days. The only thing that changed was that the girl would often smile back at Hazel. But she never said a word. She became dauntless enough to follow the violinist to the shore and sit through her performance. Her face would gleam with joy almost akin to ecstasy. But the moment Hazel's music stopped, the listener got up and rushed away. Hazel being of an amiable nature did not mind this at all. The only thing that poked her was that the latter never spoke a word. If only, she said something....just once....just a hello maybe.....!

One day, the bashful admirer wrote something on the sand and left. Hazel hastily read what was written. S-C-A-R-L-E-T! Her name was Scarlet. 'This isn't bad! She seems to have taken the plunge," Hazel said to herself. She felt happy. Very happy.

Scarlet did not come out the next two days. Hazel was worried. She could not play violin. It seemed that she had been playing her music for her lone bystander and without her, there could be no melody. What was wrong? Where was she? Hazel was not sure if Scarlet would open the door if she went there. But she had to find out.

Nervous and anxious, Hazel approached Scarlet's house and knocked. Those few moments seemed like eternity to Hazel. She fidgeted as she waited for Scarlet to answer the door. Then, the door opened. Scarlet stood there. She looked fine.

"Where have you been? Why aren't you coming out? I was so worried? Don't you understand? You never say anything....Do you think I am a fool? What is wrong with you Scarlet?...."

The tirade would have continued but Scarlet motioned Hazel to come inside. Hazel followed her blindly. Then Scarlet pointed at something. Hazel looked around. The room was full of paintings. It seemed like a haven of art, brilliant aesthetic canvasses decorating each and every wall. Each work stood out like a masterpiece, absorbing the onlooker by its beauty and emotional appeal. But amid all the paintings, there was one that excelled beyond measure, one that flooded Hazel's eyes - the silhouette of a girl with a violin in her hand, the azure sky as a fitting backdrop. Yes, it was Hazel playing her violin! Yes, it was she drenched, lost in her music!

Painting by Nitish Sanan

Underneath the painting lay a note. Hazel picked up the note and read it

You violin is my voice. The music you play are my words. When the notes are sad, they speak of my grief. When the notes are happy, they express my delight. They are transmitters of my silent self. Thank you for giving me a voice. You do not know what you have done to me. 

Love 
Scarlet

Hazel did not know how to react. For the first time, she felt that she had no words to convey how her heart felt. The painting had touched a hitherto unknown chord inside her. The note left her speechless, with a heart overflowing with love. She hugged Scarlet tightly. Then she picked up the violin and started playing a beautiful composition, just for the two of them. Since words became inadequate  it was only music that could complement the feelings of gratitude and fondness the immaculate canvas had induced.



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