PEOPLE OF AJMER

I came across this lady as our sons were together and friends in kindergarten. Just the passing of smiles had made us acquaintances on the school premises. I was surprised when she came to our clinic carrying a bag that medical representatives did. She was equally startled to find us. The rest is all history.

We became good friends even though her son shifted to another school after one year. I pursued her for not doing that. Her nephew was studying in a different school. The family wanted them to be together. What I said never mattered. Nevertheless, we continued meeting more often in the clinic, events of our children, and our homes.

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We were similar in abruptness and straightforwardness to a certain extent and had the same issues with the old school of thought. We even laughed at what people, more reasonably, what our relatives had to say for us. That was a joke between us. We never had to explain each other many things. 

It was her birthday. I could not imagine what I should surprise her with. Finally, it struck me it should be something she has never used. I reached her place armed with ammunition to shake her. After our regular formalities of why you had to do that, she finally opened it. The two of us doubled up laughing our wits out. I will gift you the same tomorrow.” It was a set of lipstick. We greeted each other on succeeding days on our birthdays, a ritual we always maintain.

She called me one early morning to say she dreamt that the two of us went to hear Bhagwad. She could not wait to share the possibility of the two of us going on a weeklong religious discourse. That was yet another situation two of us could not brag about attending. I still remember giggling and laughing at this thought over the phone. We said not now for our traditional values to hold our families as priorities would stand in the way of this orthodoxy.

She changed places in the city and her job and even had her startup over the years. We met and communicated even less. Our ritual remained. By now, our sons had settled and were doing well for themselves. She later told me that her son was joining a management studies program in Mumbai after quitting his job. Time flew by, and only memories of our events together remained. 

One day, a mutual friend asked me if I had her landline number as she was supposed to visit her. She neither reached nor was she picking up her cell phone anymore. I tried to contact her but had the same response.

Her brother later informed us that her son had passed away in a train accident. They would be reaching Ajmer the next day. It was a cruel jolt. We rushed to her place, and there lay the child we had seen growing up, played with, and partied with. I held the hands of our mutual friend tightly. We could not stop tears from flowing down as she shouldered the pyre of her only son. She performed the last rites herself and duly ended the duties of a single parent.