Armana had a baby boy last week. R called in to say that little boy had shattered yet another expensive pot pourri vase. My "first best friend EVER" was getting ragged by her one year old in Jersey. Ruhel is on her way from Kentucky to Chicago for the hols and is dreading her trip-companion: Kai, her 15 month old daughter. "Recall, how we camped in Matheran for a whole bloody week. Now I have trudge around with this bundle," shrieked Ruhel. I remember Matheran. Heady with new found freedom and with only our strict but overly affectionate/trustful teachers, we had our first girl Guide camp in hilly Matheran. With rain slashing the wits out of scraggly huts and willowy trees, our own quaint little "hotal" stood soaked to the limb, the brick roof threatening to flip at one more strong gust of wind.
But the excited 14 year olds inside were busy sipping elaichi tea from formica cups (I've managed to serve my guests in identical cups from WalMart), shuddering at the alien flavour but trudging on gallantly, in mock adult fashion. We had definite dreams at the age of 14. Ruhel is an engineer/mom, R is an engineer/Mom, Armana is an architect/mom. I am a journalist/with BestMan.
We were connecting after 10 and a half years. "Fuck, I still hate elaichi man!" Chorus.
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