Feelings

 I look at her, sitting serene, watching the sun slowly sinking in the horizon. She has a half smile, and her eyes are focused on the waves.

35 years is a long time indeed, but not long enough to dull the aftertaste of those years sold to us as the best ones of our lives.

"Shall we leave?" "Hmm, oh yes, just a second, let me click a picture there"

My smile is one of recollection. She Had to document everything of even the littlest importance and save it for 'memories' 

It's a random word of very little consequence. But it weighs heavily on my mind. She has just given me details of her diagnosis. How the little beads of events that she so carefully curated as an exhibit of a full life are now lying scattered under the threat of a permanent erasure. 

Im touched she remembers our time together as one among the prominent beads. She has finally come down to Mumbai, finally heeding my 35 year old invitations and cajolings to capture most of that, to keep intact what remained.

We rise and walk towards Khao gali, as suggested by the kindly matron who sat on the beach with her Gita and specs. Walking by, we are quiet. I am thinking of our old pacts of non-veg dates and nightly walks. She has a forlorn expression, as if she is already worried that today's memories are also slipping and she is scampering to keep them safe before they fade. Two seconds later, I spy her checking the photos on her phone. I drag her away when she almost collides with a dustbin on the sidewalk and gives her a reassuring smile when she looks embarassed. She keeps her phone away.

"What else is happening?" We turn to the banal questions because we are through with the important ones. We have been in touch with each other, so life updates are neither a juicy nor a new topic. I shrug, having nothing to offer. "Same old, here".

"Sometimes I wish I had a recorder, you know. To remember and keep track of all things that ever happened to me. Hahah, now that I've said it out loud, it does feel narcissistic, maybe its for the best that I dont remember everything that ever happened."

"Yeah, best to forget some things permanently". I realise what just came out and look at her to see if she has taken offence. But she simply nods along, agreeing.  

We reach the kabab stand and I look at her to confirm her order. She speaks instead- "Do mutton Kabab, chutney bhi de dena"

For a second, she is stunned. I have a small smile and she notices. "It's okay for you too, no?" While I nod my assent, her smile blooms. "I didn't think I would remember". I spy a tear, feel a cool down my cheek and notice tears on my face too.  

Soon, we are eating and talking of sweet nothings-  office politics, new research, new books and plots, movies we should watch, other plans in Mumbai. I'm reminded of the initial phase of our friendship, where conversation flowed and we were less concerned about the weight of thoughts and more about what we could make of each other. I turn to throw the stick away and she catches my hand and throws me a stern glance. The familiarity of the action brings forth a new bubble of laughter. 

We walk back, and she turns to me. "You have to visit soon. I can't promise much later on. You should visit Very soon, as soon as you can make it. I will feed you surreal chicken fry. Just come down to Trivandrum once!"

I laugh and tell her that it is happening and that I am figuring out tickets. She has a smile and we walk further on in silence. 

She tells me that she is thinking of the memories we will make in trivandrum when I visit. I nod and smile my assent, but I feel that memories that stay are those that aren't captured. I've not heard of cameras that stores the feeling that comes attached to the memory. 

She pauses and asks, "I am thinking of writing it all down. These feelings. Nowadays, even the photos cannot do justice to the surreal happiness i feel in those moments. I feel it has to be written down if i am to remember them"

I am stunned for a second and then I laugh. "If telepathy is true, then you are not forgetting me for a very long time!" She gives me a confused smile. I tell her that she gave voice to my thoughts. "Oh!", she says, comprehension dawning on her face. 

The rest of the evening is as mellow. I watch her as she walks away into the airport, turning for a  goodbye wave. Closing my eyes, I try to recollect the day and its many moments. I allow myself a smile when it comes to me in fluent details. I am sure they will stay without it ever needing to go on record.

Anyway, how do you record what peace feels like, how do you explain the sisterhood and comfort that you can share with someone?

I feel it is something stronger than the memory that tries to overcome her. It is a truth that you feel in your bones, the comfort of friendships.