We spoke after a long time. It was a sudden call from her side it was ‘a stolen moment from her daily routine call’. Through the call we hugged each other. Held each other’s hands to slide down towards our youthful college days.
The whole canvas was blank except for a few colours of childhood smeared across. With a palette in hand and diaspora of colours we laughed and joked picking this colour and that colour over our life’s canvas and giggling immature giggles as dreams interfered with vivid flashes of happy, happening, Prince Charming, benevolent king and queens of the family with which we tie matrimonial, soul mate life strokes to gaily walk down the path of life towards the precipice of ‘Till death do us part’.
We have completed more than 70% of our journey. And we now connect again. Wiser, tossed around in life boat by choppy waters of life’s experiences. I listened to her. Our naïveté was no longer a part of us. That colour was washed away. She had died a million of deaths. Life had been harsh.
‘I miss her’ she said
‘I know’ I said
‘It’s sad to lose your child. It’s sad to bid them bye, while we still live on.’
My eyes brimmed with tears.
‘There are times when I want a hug so bad. It’s not going to happen right?’
I control my emotions. I had no words to tell.
‘I hug the huge idol of god, when I crave that hug. You know, my daughter (she was unwell from her teenage years) always used to pray, worship this idol here. I, now am doing the same’.
‘Ask your husband to hug you’ I said. ‘He himself is so devastated. I have to be his strength’. She
said. ‘So, I have turned to the idol and hug him tight’.
Hug him tight, my friend. Tight enough to fill that void.
Be there, darling daughter for my friend. Because, you now are her divinity.