Friends under the Centre Tree

How varied can life be. Little do you realize this when you are 12 years old, sitting under the Centre Tree in the shade from the Malwa Sun in October, having lunch with 5 other girls – who you think are exactly like you. You belong to the same class. You wear the same uniforms and identical pigtails. The only difference there is what you have got in your tiffin box – Aloo Sabji and Rote, Paratha and Achaar, Bhindi and Roti, Methi ka paratha, Mutton Samosas and Orange Marmalade Sandwich.

I never realized then that life could take us where it has. Of course, I never assumed that I’d still be in touch with them even now. We have grown up to be the best of friends, with nothing in common. Out of the 6 of us, one dropped out – we are not in touch anymore – but is a happy mom. One is a doctor and new mom in Gujarat. One is mom of two, teacher for creative writing flitting between Indore and Gujarat. One is a Doctor (PHD) in Optics (or something on those lines), a mom in the US, one is a CA, now a stay-at-home mom of two at Mumbai. And there’s me – married to and at Bombay, a trying to find my footing in Corporate India.

When we chose our streams back in class 11, little did we realize the diverse paths that were ahead of us. When Fatso (name changed) took up Commerce with Home Science – I thought it was a sheer waste of talent – but she had to – she didn’t want to be over-qualified for a suitable match in her community. Well, later on, she studied the most amongst us – a double MA, tutor on the side, and English teacher – one girl who beat all odds, stood by her principles and did what her heart told her to – without ticking anyone off. Now happy, with the life she has – two lovely daughters, the good life. I also had notions about who would get married when and in what sequence – I always thought that Fatso would be the first to bite the bullet, followed by K, then me and then, Amu. It so happened that Amu was the first to get married!

We have very different lives now – a different set of friends, varied eating habits, different routines – different priorities in life. But at the heart of it, we are still the same. We still managed to meet up at Bombay after eons – husbands, kids, et al. We could still talk about everything under the sun. I may not confide in them may latest trouble at work or home, but I know they are around. I could always fall back on any one of them. And most of all, even with all the distances between us, even now, when I call one of them – we have plenty to talk – plenty to last us an hour!

Guess that’s what the recesses under the Centre Tree did to us.