My Other Half

Bosom buddy. What a quaint term! Old fashioned but conveys so much more of the relationship rather than the more impersonal BFF.

I am blessed. I met my bosom buddy when I was nine. We lived in the same residential complex and initially wouldn’t even glance at each other. Then one day she said a tentative hello to me. And there was laid the foundation of a friendship,which has spanned over three decades and thousands of miles.

We schooled together and spent all our free time together. And as we could see each other’s balconies from our homes, we had this elaborate sign language to pass messages. I remember this neighbour asking us very curiously indeed, that what did we find to talk about all the time?

When one has been friends for such a long time, one tends to invent a language of their own. We speak with no reference to anything. We leave sentences incomplete, we string weird phrases together. Yet what we say makes perfect sense to the other. It’s not that we have never quarrelled. But no matter what, even if we were not on speaking terms that particular day, it didn’t stop us from walking together to college, albeit in total silence. It didn’t stop us from holding hands when it came to crossing that big, wide road where the weaving traffic was scary. 

We laugh at things others wouldn’t even smile at. We pick the phone and wail when we feel our world is falling apart. And again we pick the phone when those perfect moments in life cross our path.

There have been times when we haven’t met each other for four to five years, but when we did, it was as if it was just yesterday since we had last met. That is one of the things I wish for my children. To have that kind of friendship with at least one person in their lifetime. These are rare bonds. So while I have my better half in my husband, I have my other half in my buddy.


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