Kashmira and I ©
Sometimes we meet folks who leave their imprint on our lives,
some whom we forget and some who linger on forever.
Illustrated By: Sabda Karkera
I was 10 years old when I met Kashmira at school for the first time. I was a plump, short Tambram and Kashmira was a fair, tall and painfully thin Parsi girl. I had lot of friends around me most of the times and the first couple of times I met Kashmira, we ignored each other. Kashmira was a seventh grader like me and like most girls that age worried excessively about being accepted by others of her age. Unlike me she did not have cool friends who could help her do that.
Her complex personality made girls stay away from her and her buck teeth made her the butt of the girls’ jokes. She and I shared a desk at school and although we did not hit off instantly, she kind of grew on me slowly.
My mom often wondered aloud what made me have friends like Chittu (my neighbor who constantly failed grades), Sheila (a hip gal, whose parents had not spoken to each other for more than 10 yrs and who was always falling in and out of love with the wrong guys) and Kashmira (a buck teethed, painfully shy almost anorexic girl). My answer to my mom was the same reason why anybody would wanna be friends with me ma.
Kashmira soon became a regular at my place and we would sit and stare at lizards on the ceilings or bask in the afternoon sun, stealing my neighbor’s dry mangoes from the terrace. We would talk about our families, crushes and dreams. Kashu would be this whole different person, full of life and cheerful; nothing mattered, not her pimples, teeth or physique. All that mattered was that moment and that moment alone.
Soon Kashmira was accepted as a part of our inner circle but her complexes never left her alone for a single moment.Kashmira’s mom was a schizophrenic and that left Kashu to tend for her dad and her little sister on occasions. I could never comprehend what her little mind and body was going through then. She was my friend and wanting to see her happy gave birth to my tiny lies. I often told her about guys liking her and that seemed to liven her life a little bit. Teenage years can be a funny thing, a little love and acceptance can make or break a person. It is almost like infatuations rule your life to a hilt.
After completing high school, we grew apart and our meetings became more and more infrequent. Occasionally I got news about Kashmira from another mutual friend and one night decided to call and surprise her. Kashu was very excited and spoke like a giddy teen; she was in love and suddenly all that she had wanted was finally hers. But all good things are short lived and Kashmira’s boyfriend stood her up the day they were to elope from home.
Kashmira slipped deeply into depression once again and was sent to her uncle’s house to recuperate. All Kashu had ever wanted was some love and acceptance from society. I never saw Kashmira after that incident. I often wrote to her and never got any replies back.
I hurt badly, not because I missed Kashmira, but I needed her in my life as much as she had needed me. Years passed by and then out of the blue I got a note from Kashmira, She had married and was now expecting her first child. Kashu had accepted me as a friend without any questions; she had existed beside me no matter what. The moments we had spent together, had been the happiest and I am happy that somewhere, somehow I hadn’t failed her as a friend.
Authors note: Kashmira died during childbirth, leaving behind a cherubic girl and a grieving hubby. R.I.P Kashmira
© Red Strawberry., all rights reserved.
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