Mirror of Wisdom

The front doorbell rings impatiently, intimating that my childhood friend Reema is here.

- Sreelekha Chatterjee

“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.” -Buddha

"So good to see you," I say, in emotional plenitude, as I open the door, beckoning her to come inside. Accompanying her is a beautiful, teenage girl, probably fifteen or sixteen years old.

"My daughter, Siya!" Reema introduces on noticing the inquisitive look on my face.

I welcome them to my two-bedroom apartment in a posh colony of the city, something which my husband and I are extremely proud to have achieved.

"Tell me how have you been? We're probably meeting after maybe two decades." I say as I gather a cheerful spot with my friend, wondering how the hours of our pleasant childhood days have passed so rapidly.

"Forget about that. You don't look good. Don't you take care of yourself?" Reema says crabbily, in a loud voice with an eye roll, putting an abrupt end to my recollections of our joyful past. Perhaps she has etected the dark circles around my eyes, the fine lines on my forehead, which I've failed to conceal with colorful make-up. Someone has rightly said that it's difficult to hide anything from a sincere, thoughtful friend.

"Where's the time for that?" I say as my eyes restlessly wander around Siya. If I'd children, they’d have been the same age as her. Seeing her I realize that a long time has gone and we’re growing old.

It’s difficult to make out Reema’s age and anybody will agree with me that she looks almost ten years younger, like a tricenarian. How does she maintain herself?