It was dark and snowy wintry night. I met her for the first time. Huge, cute, beautiful and charming she was. I only hoped for a lasting friendship and nothing more. She was shivering and I had no jacket to share but to feel her freezing hands (I couldn’t even think of getting closer than just holding hands—it was the 1st meeting after all). ‘Are you not feeling cold?’ She asked; although the answer was obvious, I as a man didn’t want to prove that cold could defeat me— I said: ‘…not really cold for me’.
Stars felt warm and the trees saw the silver rays. We walked the way kicking the pebbles. The road was silent. Streams (actually the Drains) gushed and it was 28th December 2003. I walked her home (Changzamtok) in the cold but so sorry couldn’t get any bold to talk much. We both meant to talk a lot yet the shiny moon was so beautifully shining on the dark ribbon like road that made us enjoy the nature of god’s creation better—I guess. She promised to keep in touch more often and she did keep her promise to this day. Office kept me busy and often she was denied the right to friendship. Such was the yoke of my living. Time flew, life glided on and it was time for her to study more in India. Internet promised to keep us connected but just like the present day B-Mobile connections (Sharchokpa or Subscriber not reachable—not available), mails were rare and thoughts were few. And nothing in life was really new.
I began to know her more. I was made to realize that life was rude on her. Breathing Oxygen was not easy and happy one. With fear of losing me as a friend, she confessed a secret of her life. She got me closer for a friend and for a life time I wouldn’t walk away. I am her only comfortable friend she admits. (I know readers are curious now—what does this mean?— Keep reading the full story and you might find out)
As the only daughter, her parents are fond of her. Her mother weaving dreams and her father kitting the sweater of success, she finally graduated. She wouldn’t dare get in to a crowd and fear getting to know more people— She grew up in a small little garden of her own making. But for how long will this garden last? Will there not be children of her own to weed those flowers in her garden? Of course yes, I guessed.
And yes, she wanted to get married too.
A man who have seen the world much earlier (much older and a divorcee —“Paithee Gatpu” in the chronic’s terminology — No offence meant, please) fell in love with her. Confused already with life, she got more drowned in to thinking over the complexities of life. Who would she spill the beans and cast her bread upon the water with? A comfortable friend (i.e me) comes as a firefighter. I was just ears and never tongue. What do I know and how valid would my thoughts be—after all I am a chronic single bachelor myself hehehe.
I gave no concrete “soul convalescing” advice but showed her the world in much bigger dimensions. I would never make any decision for any one but would always help people make the right decisions. I weighed all the weights for her on a pan balance. Her life, on one side and on the other, his love for her. I wouldn’t want to describe all that meant to me when she employed me to be the guiding torch of her future. I made no decision and I wouldn’t ever make any, for any one.
I didn’t know the man. And it would neither be fair for me to say he was the perfect man nor an un-matching match for my friend. I opened two pages (one bright and the other dull) and the choice was hers now. I couldn’t be friendlier than to give her the rightful choice of her future life.
I told her that age made no bars,
I wished her that he made no wars (in case she accepts him).
But also I told her that I saw more often that women (in some cases) just get scars.
She wasn’t sure if it meant anything but the man promised (as many of us) the glittering gold, I guess. And my friend finally got married only to have her heart’s artificial pacemaker pump more blood for humane survival—this was also the top secret of her life to have got me closer than ever…