“They talked in the shorthand of old friends and shared memories.”
¯ Dee Henderson
This week, I met old friends. Cynthia, Shyamala and I have all known each other for two decades. The afternoon went by swiftly in conversation, coffee, cutlets and screeching fits.
I would say laughter to sound dignified, but that would be a lie. It was giggling and shrieking. Later that evening, I met the definitely more dignified Sanjay – our friendship goes back about quarter of a century.
I am sure you’ll agree with me that there’s something absolutely special about old and lasting friendships. To be able to pick up where you left off, that’s rare.
Emily Bronte had it right. It is the holly-tree that leaves, “thy garland green,” even, “when December blights thy brow.” Friendship is an ever-green thing when treated right. Childhood friends are somewhat exalted in all of this. They have seen us at our most un- self-conscious and know us before we were even aware of who we are. There can be no pretensions with old friends. If there is, you’re bound to end up feeling more than a little foolish.
I am reminded of the delightful poem, My First Best Friend by Jack Prelutsky. The poet seems to keep rather rough company. Awful Ann socks him in the eye, Max the Rat tramples his toes, Nasty Nell almost breaks his nose! By the time he gets to the seventh best friend, the poet decides he’s had enough!
While the poem is humorous, it is true that there is sometimes pain in friendships. And if enemies can hurt, friends can wound you grievously. No wonder then that Daniel Henderson says in Friendship - “No foe could strike this blow-/ Could draw this blood, this tear! / By the deep wound I know/ A friend was here.” Barbara Hamby says it so well in Letter to a Lost Friend, “There must be a Russian word to describe what has happened/between us, like ostyt, which can be used/ for a cup of tea that is too hot, but after you walk to the next room/ and return, it is too cool; or perekhotet/which is to want something so much over months/ and even years that when you get it, you have lost/the desire.” The estrangement that builds, is imperceptible in its advancing, this too has been the fate of many a friendship.
I wonder if G.S. Sharat Chandra speaks of friends or poems in this verse: “They’re never there/ when you describe them. They’re solid as oak/but bad weather gets in their way. They need you as much/ when you wish they were away. Like stolen wives/ they fit your life. They’re best scribbled on napkins/ late at night.”( Friends )
Life has a way of taking over friendships. My friends are scattered all over the world; perhaps yours are too. Friends don’t meet as often as they’d like to and let work get in the way of keeping in touch. But they aren’t too far from the mind and the heart.
Like Khalil Gibran says, “And let your best be for your friend… And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.”
While the email and chat apps do help to keep in touch, there’s nothing like a warm voice on the phone line or a familiar friendly face, on the other side of the door. Bearing chocolate, hopefully.
Maybe you’ll pick up where you left off. Maybe you’ll make it up as you go along. Maybe it will be plain awkward and you’ll wonder why on earth you were so impulsive. Maybe it will be fabulous. Just like old friends are.
Srividya is a poet. Read her work at www.rumwrapt.blogspot.in
