The feeling will remain .....

Now this is sensitive. I pray to all the super natural powers that wander around me to keep me on track!

On my previous entries in this space, I have received varied comments. I published all the favourable comments and rejected the rest. I appreciate blogspot for providing the "moderate comments" option!
Some friends think they are just okay ... nothing specific .. important friends ... but I respect their thoughts ... may be they expect more from me and I have failed to match their expectation! I will work harder.
Many other friends and close family were very appreciative of the entries, with many comments that are motivating and also capable of slightly lifting me off my feet! Thank you all!

But why this now?

I have many friends and I am glad that I have been gathering them all my way since quite a young age! I am very glad that I have each one of them as part of my life.

But why this now?

I want to write about a very recent friend ... very very recent ... a friend who made me realise what friendship is all about! It’s irresistible that I don't write about him here.

Before I proceed to explain how, where, when and who; I will have to expose myself little more to you; to try and bring out the real reason why this person deserves a special entry in my blog!

I am such a fuss! Truly, if I view myself from a third-party shoe, I will call myself "Oh, just ignore her, she is a fuss of the first degree!"
I fuss about food! I need good food. I really do. I mean it. If my self-preparation is bad, I do not serve it for anyone but myself. Food has to be perfect and each thing should carry its distinguished taste and smell. Now let me not project as if I am a wonderful cook ... I do fine ... but I fuss like hell when others serve me. Ask my mom and she will tell you how I could identify that the beans or carrot needs more cooking, sitting in my study room!
Adding to it, I am fussy also about whom I eat with! I know it is bad, but I can't help it. My distinction does not follow caste or creed or gender. I can eat only with people whom my heart recognizes. So, recently there are times when I eat alone. I don't feel bad about it. Solitude is better than forced company, to me!
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We were on our way back from our vacation ... a cut-short to the trip because my husband got infected with Chicken pox. We had to leave back for home 4 days before schedule and it was a 5-day holiday plan. The positive was that we got the chance to travel by car from the hill-top to the Chennai plains! The positive is: I realised a deep feeling. I felt it.

My husband was not well; but I must admit, he was doing his best not to fall too sick. I could feel it, sitting next to him. I understood that he doesn't want to look weak, considering that we are traveling on a lonely route and if he is not too awake, I am at risk.
Fear was there. Very much there. Today it looks futile to have feared, but back then it was there.

The car driver ... a nice guy ... I had enquired about the driver's capability on the hilly-roads with the hotel reception; I consider my husband best in driving and traveling with someone else is always a secondary option for me. This time I had no option. Even if I was told that he is not too good, I could have done nothing but be ready for a mishap!

He was wonderful. We spoke a lot about the hills. About areas least visited and areas most visited. We spoke about climate, vegetation. He showed me coffee plantations. I touched coffee seeds and smelled them too. He showed us some falls and spoke about their origin. From him, I leant about the tribes and their villages and their lifestyle. With him and his words, I got a fresh view of the Mountains and its habitat. It was rejuvenating.

We stopped once or twice for medicines or for tender coconut or for petrol. He was very helpful. Calm and composed. Told me not to try reading while we are driving down mountains, they could disturb vision and in turn lead to a headache.

He was a sweet chap! He played some old Hindi song CDs that I enjoyed. I was surprised when my husband could also recognise some of those songs! Amazing guy! With a body temperature peaked at 102 degrees; uncomfortable car ride; this guy still had his enthusiasm alive. Just for me! I knew! I know!

We had to stop for lunch. I had packed sufficient idli “rice pancakes” for my husband and he ate it in the car. It’s not safe to face dust with this infection. Also, members of the society are likely to dislike when Chicken-pox-infected-members enter common places. Understandable, though!

I acted very casual. But let me tell, my thoughts about lunch have been dominating my mind for a while by then. I couldn’t even concentrate on some part of “love aaj kal” that our driver played for us on the Car TV. I knew this moment would come and I dreaded it.

My husband wouldn’t get down from the car. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.
I would go in alone. Of course, Salim would also come in. We both had to eat lunch. He had said that it is a good place. But how good can a highway dhaba be? And Good Food is very very very subjective, ain’t it?

However, my apprehension was not about the food. Not at all. I would eat rice curd and pickle and manage till I get home. But would I sit alone or would Salim sit next to me to eat?

Almost 2 hours I pondered over this thought and there was nothing I could conclude about it. I would usually allow things to flow with the stream. But this was my ever-fuss situation. How would everything happen?

The place was clean. Thank Goodness! 1% of my problem is solved.
Salim walked to wash his hands. I followed. He was not to be seen afterwards. For few seconds.

Usually drivers do not share table with us. I haven’t traveled with drivers much, but this line suited my preference. I chose a table close to a window. A window directed towards our parked hired-car. I sat on the chair closest to the window. I wanted to keep a watch on my husband. Or was I insecure? How does it matter now, the day is over and it has taken away all the fear and anxiety.

He was standing close to me. Looking at the table next to mine. There was a man already eating on that table and he was about to pull the chair and join him.

“Join me, Salim”
“Madam”
“Join me. Sit here”

We had a nice meal. We both opted for South Indian meals. It’s never too clever to try north dishes in a south-eat-out. We spoke little over food. That little made so much sense. So much.
He was sorry that our holiday was ending like this. He was happy that my husband was managing well and sitting-up still. He was keen that we make it again this year. He was excited when I said I would touch-base when we revisit. He was eating well. He accepted my offer and ordered a lemon-soda. He smiled when I cracked a silly joke. He suggested I tip the waiter with no more than 10/- and he was pleased when I thanked the waiter for his services.

This is surely his regular stop-place; and it would have probably added some weight to his image that he shared table with his lady customer; ordered a juice; tipped the waiter ten bucks! All this was apart his bata!

But I did not ask him to join me for all this.
I offered to eat with him out of instincts. My heart recognized him. Felt him.
It was not difficult to share my table with him. It was not difficult to eat with him.
I felt something very deep. A human instinct. A natural feeling of feeling one with someone. This had no physical connection, we don’t know much about each other, I don’t even know if he is married, I know he prays in a different style to the Lord because of his name.

This was friendship. In its truest form. I felt it. I shared it. I carried it. Here, I deliver it to one and all of you.
I am still floating in that feeling. A feeling that I felt for Salim. A feeling which I am not sure I will feel for anyone else ever again.

My tribute to the feeling of Friendship, Humanity and Sharing.