Skip to main content

Being Over

Each year, the holidays throw up a fair share of surprises for me in the form of connections lost and found. This past year, someone I knew as friend who had suddenly stopped communicating with me, sent me greetings that I could not bring myself to respond to. 

There was no specific event that triggered this hiatus in our communication and that made it all the more sad and confusing. If there was anything I had done that could be undone, I would gladly try to make amends. But there was no room for that and I could not fathom what this was all about. We have known each other for a decade now and then suddenly we had turned strangers. I fretted about it on and off for a few months, wondered if I should try to have a conversation - and I did try a few times to no avail. Then finally about three months ago, I decided it was time to move on. 

There is a window of opportunity in the relationship between people then things are still pliable. One side would be willing to yield to the other, concede their pride and hurt feelings in the larger interests of friendship. About a month ago, I had passed that point. To me, D had turned irrelevant by then - I had processed the pain and rejection and come out the other end to accept life went on and D was no longer part of it. 

So when on Christmas Day, I received D's usual, friendly holiday greetings, I could not bring myself to reply. There is nothing left for me to say - I remembered wistfully the last time I saw D and family for dinner. It was in their lovely home on a cool summer night. In the honor of my visit, they had opened a bottle of very old wine, the dinner was lovely and full of personal touches. But that was then and this is now. I missed my friend D but I suppose this too shall pass.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Cheese Making

I never fail to remind J that there is a time and place for everything. It is possibly the line she will remember me by when I am dead and gone given how frequently she hears it. Instead of having her breakfast she will break into a song and dance number from High School Musical well past eight on Monday morning. She will insist that I watch and applaud the performance instead of screaming at her to finish her milk and cereal. Her sense of occasion is seriously lacking but then so is mine. Consider for example, a person walks into the grocery store with the express purpose of buying detergent because they are fresh out of it and laundry is only half way done. However instead of heading straight for detergent, they wander over to the natural foods aisle and go berserk upon finding goat milk on sale for a dollar a gallon. They at once proceed to stock pile so they can turn it to huge quantities home-made feta cheese. That person would be me. It would not concern me in the least that I ha...

Part Liberated Woman

An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t...

Under Advisement

Recently a desi dude who is more acquaintance less friend called to check in on me. Those who have read this blog before might know that such calls tend to make me anxious. Depending on how far back we go, there are sets of FAQs that I brace myself to answer. The trick is to be sufficiently evasive without being downright offensive - a fine balancing act given the provocative nature of questions involved. I look at these calls as opportunities for building patience and tolerance both of which I seriously lack. Basically, they are very desirous of finding out how I am doing in my personal and professional life to be sure that they have me correctly categorized and filed for future reference. The major buckets appear to be loser, struggling, average, arrived, superstar and uncategorizable. My goal needless to say, is to be in the last bucket - the unknown, unquantifiable and therefore uninteresting entity. Their aim is to pull me into something more tangible. So anyways, the dude in ques...