A mirror image

Nostalgia is a very funny feeling. It makes you miss all those intricately small details which you'd hardly remember otherwise. Last night, I was unwinding after an incredibly hard day at work and, my favourite music was playing in the background. As I felt myself relax, I looked around me at the intimately familiar room with its cramped comfort.

Tomorrow would usher in the occasion of Eid but on a casual glance, no would tell that it is the eve of a festival. I could feel the walls closing in around me. The air had a quality of limpness which I'd never experienced before. The unnatural quietness was unnerving and I could hear the sounds of the television screeching its way to my tired ears. There was nothing out of the ordinary - no hurried hustle or the peaceful calm or the peals of laughter which ricochet seamlessly around the house, lighting up the ambiance with their joyous ring. I scarcely realized it but I was crying - for the gloom had penetrated deep into my core.

The next morning, I fondly observed all those rituals which add meaning to my festival, though one of it was conspicuous by its absence. I didn't know why this would bother me but for some inexplicable reason it did. And, some people do have a gift of putting anyone (especially me) in a bad mood with their pathetically egoistic rudeness. Simply put, not a great start to the day. In despair, I turned to the paperback copy of 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes' (one of my treasured possessions) to prevent any more attacks on my already bruised mood.

Sam, my best friend who incidentally happens to be my favourite cousin chooses to call me up. I don't know how but he intuitively reaches out to me each time, especially in that critical moment when my emotions nose dive into the dark abyss. After exchanging the festive wishes, we indulged in the usual conversation about plans for the day and so on. When the call ended, I was feeling much better! Sam always has that effect on me and I desperately wished that I could meet him right away!

Now, Sam and I are quite close despite the numerous family disputes between us. Simply because, we have that deep connection which is stronger than a million other peccadilloes. At any given moment, Sam can understand how I feel and translate those emotion into words - this reaction is quite mutual. I like his gentle firmness and respect his pragmatic judgment. But most importantly, I value him for his individuality and in my eyes, he is the best!

Thirty minutes later, I heard the doorbell ring. My mother announced that one of my cousins is at the door (a custom followed over the years). I thought it was Sam's eldest brother who usually makes it a point to visit us every festive occasion. Reluctantly, I put the book down and made my way to the hall for a round of smile-and-greet courtesies. I got the shock of my life when I found Sam seated on the sofa with a sheepish grin. I couldn't stop smiling! After our brief and formal interaction, he called up to inquire if I had liked his "surprise". Liked? I was ecstatic! Sam and I are mirror images of each other but tinted with our special yet unique shades.

As I go back in time, to those childhood days of unending bliss dotted with naughty antics and innocence, Sam and I would always play together and were as thick as thieves. I try to be there for him each time he needs me. When he says that I mean a lot in his life, it rings as the best compliment ever. During the rough patches of life, I'd crib that there's no one to take the burdens off my shoulder and let me rest for a while. But, when I look back, Sam had stood silently behind me, taking the heavy load off my weary shoulders while putting the smile back on my face as I get ready to face the next battle on life's bumpy terrain.

The Zephyr

Last night, I saw her again. I cannot see her when I am wide awake. And, our rendezvous would be limited to the annals of my dreams till we meet again at the gates of paradise. It was common understanding that I could no longer see her physical form and she cannot reveal her astral avatar to me. I know not where she is but I do know that she is happy after breaking free from the earthly bonds which chained her soul to the peccadilloes of life.

My first memories of life were of Tach (as I call her) and I, in the ancient house surrounded by a large posse of relatives, aunts, uncles and grand parents. I use to be the apple of her eyes and my tiny world revolved around her. To my eyes, she was the most beautiful woman in the entire Universe, chubby with a dimpled smile. The moment she would see me, her face would break into a grin and her eyes sparkled.

One summer afternoon, she read out my first story from a Tinkle comic (when I could barely read). It was about friendship-a tale of an arrogant girl learning how to make friends. Together, we would enter the magical kingdom of stories filled with kings, princesses, wizards, legends and dreams. She was a dreamer and she taught me to look beyond the horizon, leap into the universe and reach for the stars.

Tach was the focal point all through my childhood and even later on. She would jump over the parapet and pull me across, as I squealed in fear. We'd get drenched in the first showers of the monsoon or eat pori on the terrace, watching the sky erupt into a million hues of gold, yellow and pink as dusk dawned with its dark glory. Natural phenomena fascinated her - be it an eclipse or the occasional sighting of Venus, she would let nature wash over her senses with its pristine marvel.

We'd scramble to the sofa and watch the wrestling matches (WWE) or laugh over Tom and Jerry's hilarious antics. She would make my school scrap book filling it with beautiful pictures of flowers and animals. As we walked at the beach, Tach would take me deep into the water to experience the huge waves despite pleas from my mother to come back. She was a daredevil who taught me to be brave. She was my guide, my teacher who patiently suffered through ceaseless questions and the quest for answers.

Tach was my solace when the walls of expectations closed in, suffocating me. To her, I was flawless and the feeling was mutual. As time passed, our paths changed but when we managed to meet, it was the same old magic. Despite the distance, her voice would cheer me up, leaving behind a warm glow and the courage to face life. She taught me to smile despite all obstacles and enjoy life's bounty to the hilt.

Tach loved to dress up in the latest fashion. She was impeccable in her appearance and proud of herself. I used to watch her as she wore matching bangles and shimmering ear rings, dabbing her eyes with kohl and wearing her favourite jewellery. Through those painful times, she never let the ordeal affect her personality. As usual, she was quick to smile with a witty retort ready to roll off her tongue despite the physical struggle.

My love for Tach is like the warm rays of the sun, penetrating through the cloudy days. The intensity of our love for each other was as obvious as the Earth's spherical shape. As we relived those moments, the silence between us conveyed those myriad emotions. The spark in her eyes would tell me that she felt the same as I did and words weren't required. She was the Zephyr in my life's sails, sheltering it from the stormy sea and leading it safely to the harbour.

A few months ago, when she decided that she has had enough and just wanted eternal peace, she just slipped away. As her body lay on the table, covered in the deep purple cloth surrounded by wailing women; she had a smile on her lips-like she was just taking a short nap and dreaming about the wheat fields, golden sunsets and green valleys with sheep and cows grazing in idyllic pastures.

I can never believe that she is no more. Tach can never die; I know she is somewhere out there. I still feel that she would walk into the room anytime and start telling me about the championship match results of last Sunday's showdown in WWE. Her memories are frozen in time adorning the archives of my soul-a snapshot of that dimpled smile and twinkling eyes.

Every time I feel lost or scared or clueless, she comes in my dreams. I dream about her in that gray salwar, hugging me and reinforcing my faith in life and that everything will surely be alright. I would see her smiling always and I would wake up warm and comforted. I know she is incredibly happy, where ever she is. And, I am happy for her.