Many People

The last post was about just one person; this post is about many. I have always been a person who doesn't need too many friends. A few people are enough for me. But yet, over the years, there have been many, many people who I've known and cared for, been close to and cherished. But some of them are now merely a memory. I don't know what became of them, or where they are, or even whether they remember me or ever think of me. But I do think of them now and then. They have left their footprints in my life, footprints that have been around so long that nothing can wash them away now. I thought it would be like a tribute to them to list them here, even though they are lost and will never read this. I have purposely not included any person who is still in touch with me in any way, even if they are merely a name on my Facebook or MSN list. I have also not included any 'grown-ups' I once knew as that would make the list too long.

1. Shazia
I don't know why I'm including this name here, but something in my head tells me I should. Probably because she is the closest I had to a friend when I was in Kindergarten. We did not 'hang-out' as such, we didn't even talk to each other much. The only memory I have of Shazia is talking to her once while she played in the sand-box. She was everything I was not, and I wanted to be her friend. But I don't think i ever was, because I was too much of a recluse at that time. Shazia is the only classmate I remember talking to in Kindergarten. There might have been others, there might not have, I don't know.

2. Deepa
Deepa was my classmate in the first grade. She moved to the UK before second grade began. And then, she died. I still remember quite clearly that day in second grade when we had a math lesson and suddenly, the Headmistress came in to inform us of how she'd recieved the news that Deepa was gone. I think she had been sick, but I'm not sure. That part of the 'news' has faded, because all i can really remember is Deepa's bright face, her big black eyes that sparkled with warmth and wit, the contrast of the baby-pink frock I remember her wearing against her dark skin. She was one of my first friends. Sadly, she is also the first person I knew who died. The idea of her dying seemed unreal then. In fact, it still seems unreal. She comes into my thoughts randomly, but often. And every time, i think the same thing: I wonder what she would have been like today if she was still alive. What would she be studying? What would have been her dreams? Would we have still been in touch? I wonder why God took her away so young, when her life had hardly begun. I wonder whether I would think about her at all if she hadn't died.

3. Zoheb
Zoheb had been my friend the same time that Deepa had. I have a photo somewhere with all three of us in it, but somehow, I can't seem to find it anywhere. Maybe it's my desperation to find it that makes me overlook it all the time. He was my first friend of the opposite sex. At least, I think he was. I wish I knew his surname, it would help me track him down on Facebook. What i remember most about Zoheb is his face. He had huge twinkling eyes full of mischief and fun, and his hair fell all over his forehead, which even the first-grader me had found cute in an innocent kind of way. If he had remained in my life, I'm sure Zoheb and I would have been best buddies, kind of like Rats and Meow from Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na but without the romantic aspect. But he is gone. Long-gone. I once attended his birthday party, gifting him a box of chocolates selected by my mum, and as a return-gift, I got one of those plastic, Made-in-China digital watches. It was black, with a bit of red, and little yellow buttons. I gave it to my brother to wear, and he wore it for quite a long time before it stopped working and he threw it away. I wish I'd kept it with all the other random stuff i have saved up from my childhood.

4. Anne-Katrine
She was my first best-friend. Yet, I never cared to ask what her last name was. (Last names don't matter when you're five-years-old) That is why I can't know who she is from the hundreds of Anne-Katrines on Facebook. I'm pretty sure she is in Denmark, her home-country. I'm also pretty sure that if I still knew her, our friendship wouldn't be quite as special as it once was, but still, I wish I was in toucb with her. She may have been very different from me, but I loved her for it.

5. The Boy whose name I wish I knew
In second grade, there was this boy in my class: short, skinny, with glasses. (Kind of like Harry Potter, now that I think of it!) His name began with an 'I'. It was either Imran or Irfan, though I'm not sure, considering how I never paid him much attention. For a long time, I've felt ashamed about not knowing his name. Because he was the first - and probably, the ONLY boy so far - who I think fancied me. Yes, we were in second grade, hardly an age when you fancy someone, but I don't know why else he 'left' me a yellow rose and a little note. Actually, he didn't write anything in the 'note'. It was just a piece of notepaper, with a little drawing and a quote printed on it. I don't remember what the quote said but it was something very sweet about love. I know he meant me to know that he had left them both for me, and I did figure it out instantly, but what I did next is just sad. And mean, I suppose. I cringe whenever I think about it. I threw both the rose and the note away, right in front of him. If I'd had my twenty-one-year-old brain then (or even my twelve or thirteen-year-old one) I would have preserved them both with utmost care, felt special about it. Maybe even made an effort to talk to him more. But I was six-years-old, and I was scared of being teased. I was teased enough already without having everyone call him my 'boyfriend' and me his 'girlfriend'. So I decided to ignore the whole incident (and in the process, destroy the evidence that it ever happened) and yet I'm stuck thinking about it over a decade later and wondering whether Imran/Irfan even remembers me now. It's ironic how I crave romance and love in my life today when, years ago, I was so completely terrified by the prospect that I didn't, even for a moment, feel bad about hurting someone who was just being nice to me. But I guess that's how childhood is: you don't really think much before doing things.

6. Nayeema
I met Nayeema in the third grade. My best friend had moved to another school and so I was friendless and the new girl in class seemed like she needed friends so I tried. The amazing thing about Nayeema is that I have never met someone as full-of-life as her. She was wonderful: friendly, understanding, caring, loyal, fun. But she was also deaf and mute. But she wore a hearing aid, and she did 'speak', just not the same way and as clearly as you and I. She attended special speech therapy sesssions (the school catered to students with special needs), but most students still found it difficult to communicate with her. Not me. I could understand every word she said, as if by magic, and could almost always make her understand what I said. Maybe it was because of my linguistic aptitude, but I'm sure it was mostly because that's how it was meant to be. Mehak and Nayeema. Nayeema and Mehak. Everyone began referring to us in the same breath; like we belonged together. The best part was how we lived close to each other's houses and could often go over. But then, I moved school. And we gradually lost touch. I don't know why it happened. I know we tried to keep things going, but in the end, we were both lost to each other. I miss Nayeema, I wish there was some way I could find her. She's one person I'm SURE still remembers me.

There are a few more people coming to mind right now, but I don't have much to write about them. Besides, I'm tired of typing. So I'll end by saying that yes, sometimes one person can influence our lives more than any other, but most of the time, it's many people influencing it all at once, and we often don't understand what they meant until it's too late. And they are lost forever.