I grinned at myself in the mirror and added a final line of
kohl under my right eye. Then, snapping the lid shut, I proceeded to put the
tube away and rearrange my hair - which I had done ten times hitherto. My mum,
watching amusedly from the doorway, finally voiced the question she'd been
itching to ask the whole day. 'Are you sure you want to do this? You know it's
been a long time.'
I turned to her and let out a small sigh. 'Mum,' I said.
'This might be the last time that we'd get to meet like this. I...I need to see
them.' One beat of understanding later, she nodded and returned to the kitchen,
to put the finishing touches on her famous au
gratin, which she'd prepared specially for this occasion.
Hell, she didn't realize the depths of nervousness my
stomach sank into the moment she left. I was meeting up with my old friends,
friends who had stuck with me right from first grade, and who had experienced
each stage of growth with me up till that point. And yet, this strong
friendship had somehow dissolved almost to nothingness, when we made new
friends in high school and allowed bitterness and jealousy to ensue between us.
Now, four years later, we were meeting up, with old-but-new
faces, new haircuts, clothes and attitudes. Would we still be able to talk
as easily as we did so long ago, or would the dinner be four awkward hours of
stilted small talk and frozen conversation?
I had no time to dwell on this, as the doorbell rang, and
they stepped in, one by one, scrutinizing the place which, for a long time, had
been our main hangout. And thankfully,
not much had changed. Slowly, they ambled to the couches and sat down, avoiding
each others 'eyes. My worst fears were coming true. I gulped and began doling
out the juice and hors d' oeuvres. 'Thank you,' one of the guys said softly,
before delicately biting into the pastry.
My mind was spinning. Thank
you? In the past, this particular
fellow would have simply swatted my hand away from the plate, grabbed a couple
of pieces for himself, and scarfed down the lot. It would have been so
rude...so boorish...and so comfortable.
My temper of old rose, and prompted me to raise my hand and
smack the back of his head. 'Idiot!' I snapped. 'Stop being so polite!' He was
so startled that he simply stared at me, eyes bugging out and mouth opening and
shutting like that of a goldfish. However, my slap had done the trick; the
proverbial ice was cracked, and everyone burst out laughing at his face.
After that, it was easy to melt into the banter of old. We
joked about our new appearances, reminisced about our childhood friends and
classmates, and the guy I mentioned earlier began gulping down the starters ten
at a time - just to spite me for the smack he'd earned. I loved it.
When my mum brought out the au gratin, my friends roared with joy, for this was one dish that had virtually become the bane of
our existence for two days, during the French exhibition - one of our fondest
memories of the 8th grade.
Needless to say, conversation flowed like an open bottle of
wine during dinner. We talked about everything under the sun - books( yes, the
paperback kind), movies, games, fan fiction, crushes(even the guys) and life
after school. We even sorted out the problems between us, although it took
barely five minutes, with an explanation and apology from the guilty party, and
a shrug and a 'Chill, man, it's all cool now,' from the other side. I looked
up, and caught my mum smiling at us from the doorway, proud and happy. I grinned
at her and gave her a thumbs-up.
In the end, when it was time to go, one of the girls turned
to me and opened her mouth hesitantly. Everyone else stopped whatever they were
doing and looked at us. She let out a sigh and gave me a brilliant smile.
'Thanks, Aditi,' she said softly. 'Thanks for calling us...I'm so glad we could
meet up like this.' I stepped forward and hugged her. The next moment, I was
engulfed in a group hug, as arms came around everywhere. It was a perfect,
shining moment.
After the hug, I stood at the door and waved goodbye to
everyone as they left, one by one, disappearing behind the gleaming doors of
the elevator, their happy grins the last I'd see of them for a while. However,
I wasn't upset - not at all. We had parted as old friends should, not with
tears and flowery promises to reunite, but with fresh, happy memories of our
past, memories that made us grin and realize that our years together had made
us who we were, and it felt wonderful to visit that place for a while. We
realized that we'd all gained a return-gift of sorts from the dinner I'd hosted
- golden remembrances, the strength of renewed friendship, which would be
actively pursued on Facebook, and hope, hope that come what may, if we did meet
up again, we'd be able to hold on to our camaraderie. It was enough for us at
the moment, quite enough.
