there are times i miss my friends…and there are times i MISS my friends. and right now, it’s one of those moments…when i hate the time difference…when i wish i could pick up the phone…and just call…not go through the entire hassle of the access number, the pin etc etc etc…just call. period. though it depends. as in whether i’m in a confessional mood, or ‘i-want-bhaav’ mood, or ‘i-am-dying-to-talk-to-u’ mood, or ‘i’ll-die-if-i-dont-talk-to-u-right-now’, or just general ‘i-dont-have-anything-special-to-say-but-i-just-want-to-talk’ mood, or just ‘i’m-just-rambling-but-u-better-pretend-u-are-listening’ mood.
and invariably, it’s always just three people.
there’s g in bombay. i’ve known her since the first day of college. that was sometime in august (or was it early september?) calcutta…park street…the hallowed portals of ‘too sexy, sxc’. and it’s been 9 years. long time, i know. we’ve changed. both of us. but end of the day, we’re still a little of what we were….back in 1998. we’ve both been through a lot. after all nine years is a long time. but some things never quite change. she’s still the only person who needs to just write in uppercase and…i’m all scared and shitting in my pants. literally. she’s the only person who can slap me and get away with it. she’s the only person whose ‘hmmm’s actually mean something. well, there are a lot more ’she’s the only person’ on the list. she’s the only person with whom i do inane, stupid stuff like asking for her hand to get up from the bed…though i can perfectly do that on my own…i’m not 400 pounds…i’m not 87 years old. i know…it’s stupid, it’s inane. but i still do it. because she’s the only person with whom i can do such stupid, inane ’stuff’. she’s the only person who knows me so well that it’s actually scary. sometimes i think she knows me even better than i know myself. sometimes i think she’s my mom. and sometimes i think she should have been my mom’s daughter instead of me (they’re so alike that it’s actually a little freaky).
i might colour my hair purple, get a zillion tattoos, be a bloodthirsty vampire…and i’ll still be ‘BE’ for her. yes, she knows i can’t stand her mad dog. she knows i give him gaalis. hindi gaalis (it’s a karmic ‘we-can’t-stand-each-other’ thing). she might do ‘uff’ and ‘eesh’ every time i let loose one of my colourful expletives. she might write my name in uppercase letters. and get all mad at me. and we might not talk for weeks sometimes. but end of the day…it’s still the same. i’ll still be ‘BE’ for her. she’s getting married this january…to someone who’s really nice. who really loves her. and who’s good for her. and i’m happy. really really happy.
and then there’s j in hong kong. in two months (maybe less, maybe more) he’ll be moving to dubai. i dont think even my mom gives me as much ‘bhaav’ as he does. he’s a sweetheart. and i guess everyone who knows him will agree with that. he’s also a nice guy. a really nice guy. sometimes way too nice for his own good. but that’s just the way he is. and thank god for that. and he calls me every saturday…i know, really sweet of him. listens to me going on and on about ‘not-worth-mentioning’ past loves…and then sometimes, tells me to shut up…or not to behave like a complete idiot. but i still do. i know. i’m 30. and i should behave my age. but then old habits die hard. and then he screams more. and at some point i realise that i’m really being very stupid. and then i don’t do whatever stupidity i was doing. or sometimes, don’t do whatever stupidity that i was thinking of doing. there’s a ‘he’s the only one’ list for j (obviously!)…he’s the only one i can really go berserk with my ‘original’ hindi gaalis and he comes up with even better ones. actually, i’m the one who always comes up with the good ones. i bet he just gets inspired. he’s the only one to whom i can confess anything (and i mean, ANYTHING!) without getting all freaked out about ‘what-he’ll-say-what-he’ll-think’ funda (with g, i just can’t tell her ‘everything’. well, definitely not at the time it’s happening. i do tell her. everything. eventually. after everything’s all quiet and calm.) but poor j has to deal with the stuff when it’s actually happening. well, he does have truckloads of patience and bheja. and he’s the only one i can do uninhibited locker room talk with. and it’s like we are talking about the latest Bachchan flick. he’s also the only one who can get away with saying ‘the Sanjay Dutt sentencing was perfectly justified’…or ‘Al Pacino is greater than Amitabh Bachchan’…without me poisoning him with arsenic or giving supari to usmanbhai. but then that’s because it’s him.
it’s kind of funny…we were always this big group in college…and then a couple of years later, when all the ‘hanging out’ is passe. and everyone’s busy with their own lives…in different corners of the world. that’s when you realise who really matter. who are the ones who REALLY matter. the ones who’ll put up with any crap you dish out…with all your stupidity…all your inanity…and still be there for you. and it doesn’t matter. you could transmogrify into a porcupine…or into an anteater. and they’ll still be around. it doesn’t matter…that you don’t speak for weeks…or you speak everyday…or you’ve been a duffer and forgot that your cell was on silent mode. they’re still there. and it’s a nice feeling when you go to bed at night…that you know no matter what you are, what you do…you’ll still be the same for some people.
and then there’s m in calcutta. i’ve known her only since jan 2005…unlike g or j who are both from the good ol’ college days. initially i couldnt stand her. i mean…i just couldnt stand her. i thought she was too ‘nyaka’ (unfortunately, this is one of the bong words that doesn’t translate too well). so i couldn’t stand her. and then she used to talk to a guy whose jackass arrogance was only superceded by his posterior. a rather painful example of the male species. i could never figure out how/why could she even talk to him (i know she’ll have a retort to this). and i also did speak to him. no, his ‘jackass-ness’ and his posterior still remained the same. that would seriously need a miracle. but just that it’s very easy to put up with jackasses. it makes you feel good about yourself. that you are being a modern-day avtaar of Mother Theresa. but seriously, it’s not worth the trouble. anyways, i figured out (sometime when i was hanging out with mr. jackass-cum-big-posterior) that m was not as painful as i thought. neither was she ‘nyaka’ (okay, the closest english translation is ‘affected’). she was nice. and smart. and beautiful. and attractive. and super-intelligent. and it beats me why someone with her intelligence has to behave like a dodo at times. i give her gaalis. loads of them. but she simply does ‘hehheheheh’…which i obviously don’t find very funny. but then that’s how she is. and she has all these stupid ideas in her stupid head…which i obviously don’t agree with. she just needs someone to shake her up and put some sense into her head. she’s an awesome woman. and she deserves better than what she makes herself go through. anyways, she’ll again do ‘awww’ and ‘hehehheheheh’…extremely infuriating. she’s really, really, really nice but she does drive me up the wall…especially with all her reasonings and justifications (none of which make any sense).
but i so miss all our bitching sessions. and i miss those dinners at pizza hut (city centre, salt lake)…and the shopping trips…and the general ghyan-ghyan (bong term. loosely translated means ‘whining/cribbing’). she’s the only one i can tell anything. i mean anything. when i’m in a confessional mode or in one of those ‘ohmigawd-if-i-dont-say-this-i’m-going-to-die’…it’s her…and then j, then g (g’s usually the last one since i end up telling her stuff once it’s all done with but i do end up telling her. eventually.) i usually tell j everything. but in case it’s something super-stupid, i tell m first…who’ll be like ‘i know you are going to do it eventually so might as well just get over with it’…not that it means she’s okay with it. naa, she makes that perfectly clear. and then i feel all guilty and weird (since i haven’t told j) and i tell j. and then a few weeks later, when i’m back in my senses, i tell g (obviously with the rejoinder: “don’t worry, everything’s fine now”).
it’s funny…when i began this post i thought i’ll just write three paragraphs on my three closest friends. and that’s it. but at some point, i forgot about the word count. the post was, in part, motivated by some recent incidents…when i realized how lucky i was…that i have friends…who are there, no matter what blah blah blah. when i think about g, j, and m…it’s never in some kind of order. i can’t put them in a numbered list. am i closest to g? or is it m? or j? i don’t know. i know they are the three people who are my support system (apart from my mom). the three people i can call at any hour…and even if it’s at some godforsaken hour, they’ll still be all ears. i could go on and on. there always be a zillion things that i can write about them. a zillion things that they do. a zillion things that i feel. but end of the day…it just feels nice that they are there. period.
