The prompt was to write about a person I have felt really connected with. This is the story of a friendship spanning almost 60 years.
It was my very first day of school. I was a very curious, silent four year old, looking around the classroom in amazement. I had never seen so many children together before. I wondered what I was supposed to do when Sr. Gertrude said, “Now everyone, please say hello to the girl sitting next to you and tell her your name.” And that was how I met Maya.
She was about the same height as me, with dark skin and a curly mop of hair. I looked at her, unsure of what to do, when she said, “Hello! My name is Maya. What is your name?”
That was the beginning of a friendship that spans almost 60 years. She was the one I shared all my poems with first and when everyone else praised them, she candidly told me, “You can write better than this. This is a poem written by a first grader.” Of course I resented the criticism, but it also made me work on my writing and take it more seriously. Even today, every time I publish a book, I find myself asking, “What will Maya think of this?”
Her mom was my amma too. I loved going to her place for the banana chips and the appams. And of course to tease her little brother. We both shared a love of books and hid romance novels in our text books, pretending to study.
She was the person I told about my first kiss and she was the first friend to visit me at my in-laws house after my wedding.
We lost touch with each other for almost three decades and then she appeared one day at our school reunion. I was busy talking to someone and hadn’t noticed her in the general chaos. Suddenly someone came up behind me and covered my eyes, asking me to guess who it was. I recognised her by her voice itself and squealed in joy and excitement as I jumped up to hug her.
After that we have been in touch regularly, with me meeting up with her and her family whenever I got to Singapore to meet my daughter, and she calling on me when she visits India.
No matter how long it has been since our last meeting, we always manage to jump right back to where we left off. She is one of the few people with whom I can be totally myself. Now a days our conversations are about how stubborn our old parents can be and reminiscing about the “good old days”.
When I look back over these 60 years, I can see that both of us have grown, we have changed and yet, somehow we have remained ourselves. Deep inside we are still those four year old girls meeting for the first time!