IMPRINTS

“The artist took up his paintbrush and stroked a mighty sea,

That seemed to flow with colour, boldness and majesty;

I gazed upon his canvas and wished that I might add

One small detail of beauty- yet I no talent had.

Until he said that actions could paint a picture too

That smiles and bits of singing could make a heart less blue.

And so we are all painters of one great work of art

A masterpiece of friendship, each doing one small part.”

This was written by an old school friend on a birthday card sent to me more than thirty- five years back. Our friendship goes back to the Primary School days and it has stood the trials of time and fortune for more than forty years though we were in the same school and city for not more than four years.  Her father was in the Indian Navy and mine in the Indian Railways and our paths crossed for a few years before we moved to other parts of India. The card I have preserved all these years and the lines have remained in my memory. We exchanged letters through school, college and knew every little thing that was going on in each other’s lives- every little crush, every little heartbreak, dreams , aspirations, ambitions, successes and failures. Though smartphones have replaced the letters and cards, we are still in touch and till date have not missed birthdays or anniversaries or for that matter have not forgotten to share any little ups and downs in our lives.

Those cards of yore bore a distinct stamp of individuality. Even without opening a card you could guess who it was from, the colour, the design, the paper, handwriting all gave away the sender’s identity. Unfortunately, the ever circulating wishes and messages making their way through various apps to the little gadgets, which have completely usurped our lives, have no identity at all.

As I rummage through my drawers, I find many such little cards and notes which I had kept in the pages of a diary- all handmade, handcrafted and painted by my friends. I have carefully kept them, preserved them all these years. As I hold them in my hands and smile, my eyes turn misty. They belong to an era when friendship did not start with a friend request.

 Junior college forged a deep bond with two of the best girls I have ever met. Though each of us chose a different path later-medicine, bio-science and literature- we probably had the best of times together. The number of movies we saw together, the number of hours we spent listening to music, exchanging bits of gossip from our respective colleges and the number of books we bought and exchanged can never be surpassed by anything in later years. We were in three different colleges in Calcutta but that never posed an impediment. There were no mobiles, no WhatsApp, no Facebook but we managed to meet, laugh, share and enjoy. We made sure we did not miss each other’s weddings. Life parted us as we moved in different directions, post job, post marriage. One of us left the country, another left the city, while the third stayed behind.  My search for them in Facebook continues. I have not yet managed to find them on social media. I joined Facebook only to reconnect with friends like them but in all probability they are yet to come aboard. May be they will, someday.

Facebook has unearthed a lot of other friends with whom I lost touch. The searches have come more out of curiosity. Yes, we do get to peep into their drawing rooms, see their families, compare who is looking older and who has aged drastically, whose hairstyle has changed and who is just the same. We get to know who has married whom, who is rich, who is famous, what their kids are up to, who has turned into an activist and who has metamorphosed from the caterpillar into the butterfly, from the ugly duckling to the beautiful swan and who has burrowed deeper into the hole. But a lot remains unknown. What sadness is behind those layers of make-up or what tears are hidden behind that gorgeous smile will never be known. Interaction is minimal- photographs and status updates. Like it or leave it. Share it or forget it. A birthday wish comes because all are wishing , a congratualtion is in order so as not to be left behind. Yes, Facebook has definitely reconnected me with many whom I remembered but had completely lost touch. Yes, thanks to Mark Zuckerberg. But the magic of those letters and cards is never there.  I miss that magic of friendship- are these friends for real or just another number added to the list? If I die will they mourn for me, if I lose the race will they stop for me, if I cry will they talk to me? I wonder.

Another thing that puts me off is how people unmindfully click on the ‘Like’ button to the extent that I have seen people liking a status informing about the demise of a loved one. Or when a self proclaimed crusader chooses to voice his dissent with everything under the sun his friends, in hordes, like it irrespective of whether they have any views on the subject or not. ‘Dissent’ is after all what gives you credibility in today’s world! Unless you manage to stick out like a sore thumb you might be overlooked.

The other day, a gentleman wrote on his status that when his mother was taken ill he felt impossibly alone despite his 'Friends' list showing a stunning number of 2301.

Recently, I found from a status that a friend from the US was in town and was put up at a place not too far. It was the day after a wisdom tooth extraction and I was feeling particularly down, but nonetheless, I felt like meeting her. I inboxed her my number and told her where I stayed asking her to drop in. The least I had expected was a call in return or even a message. But there was nothing. It made me wonder whether Facebook friends are for real or just lovely profile pictures with brilliant status?

Or am I just a number?

DS