Sometimes, its a very short road from being strangers to being acquaintances and then to become friends. Some people just fit - they talk in a way that one understands, without having to make an effort.
I have met a lot of people over the past two years but in this strange land, very few of them have left a mark. Very few of them have stayed on with me. Some of them are the people at work. Some people - I meet every day as they go about their chores and despite having seen them for months on end - our conversations would begin and end with the daily greetings. But then there were others like Ernie, who within a week of meeting him for the first time, had asked me all about my life and what a girl like me was doing single.
Ernie. :) He was big and black, punctual and talkative. But more than that he was big hearted - I could tell from the way he gave me a giant hug in the corridors when I saw him after long. That was almost two years ago because then suddenly, I just didn't see him anymore. I searched for that booming voice of his for months after that - but then I slowly resigned my hopes. I wish he had told me when he was leaving. I wish I knew where he is now, or more importantly, how he is now. Because, given a free reign, the mind only seems to conjure the worst possibilities in the realm of infinite.
And then there was Coffee... Coffee the man, not just the drink, which I can never say no to. He was from Georgia - my first southern acquaintance really.
He was a man of the kitchen - and not just because of the name - but because he was a chef. We met while I walked to the mailbox one evening to collect my mail and somehow ended up talking of life and people and the mistakes we all make. Unlike most friendships that begin on common ground, this one began from a disagreement. I disagreed with him and said so (and now I can't even remember what the whole thing was all about) but Coffee saw my point and respected that. It was a strange relationship - meeting every now and then in the parking lot on my way home only to talk of his family, wine and food. It was the first few months of my stay here and I was still trying to find my way from loneliness to solitude but when Coffee cooked a delicious meal for me in his kitchen - I was touched beyond words. And even as I debated and procrastinated having him over for a spicy Indian meal - he had gone. Gone - without a parting word but leaving behind that bottle of wine. It was the wine that I used in my first risotto. The wine, whose bottle still stands on my kitchen counter, as I hope to meet Coffee one day, and to thank him for his generosity.
And now there is Bob. As I park the car and head to the lab each morning, I search for that tall, slightly slumped, grey haired, grey-eyed figure walking around the parking lot in his blue jacket. We chat for a couple of minutes and talk of old age, memories, families, loans and life's ugly truths. He reminisces about his life as a soldier and I listen to the stories trying to find small pieces of his story, that I put together in my head.
Some times, I think these relationships mean nothing to them, but at others, I know that I care for these people and maybe they care a little too. And so when Bob says that seeing my smiling face in the morning makes his day - it makes my day better. Not just because no one has said that to me in a long time but because I am glad to make a difference to someone's life.
Because, it is nice to know that you are making a difference in the lives of some people, like someone else once did for you. I am happy to know that in that circle of life, I am doing more than just taking solace from the likes of Ernie and Coffee - that sometimes, I spread some joy too.
I have met a lot of people over the past two years but in this strange land, very few of them have left a mark. Very few of them have stayed on with me. Some of them are the people at work. Some people - I meet every day as they go about their chores and despite having seen them for months on end - our conversations would begin and end with the daily greetings. But then there were others like Ernie, who within a week of meeting him for the first time, had asked me all about my life and what a girl like me was doing single.
Ernie. :) He was big and black, punctual and talkative. But more than that he was big hearted - I could tell from the way he gave me a giant hug in the corridors when I saw him after long. That was almost two years ago because then suddenly, I just didn't see him anymore. I searched for that booming voice of his for months after that - but then I slowly resigned my hopes. I wish he had told me when he was leaving. I wish I knew where he is now, or more importantly, how he is now. Because, given a free reign, the mind only seems to conjure the worst possibilities in the realm of infinite.
And then there was Coffee... Coffee the man, not just the drink, which I can never say no to. He was from Georgia - my first southern acquaintance really.
He was a man of the kitchen - and not just because of the name - but because he was a chef. We met while I walked to the mailbox one evening to collect my mail and somehow ended up talking of life and people and the mistakes we all make. Unlike most friendships that begin on common ground, this one began from a disagreement. I disagreed with him and said so (and now I can't even remember what the whole thing was all about) but Coffee saw my point and respected that. It was a strange relationship - meeting every now and then in the parking lot on my way home only to talk of his family, wine and food. It was the first few months of my stay here and I was still trying to find my way from loneliness to solitude but when Coffee cooked a delicious meal for me in his kitchen - I was touched beyond words. And even as I debated and procrastinated having him over for a spicy Indian meal - he had gone. Gone - without a parting word but leaving behind that bottle of wine. It was the wine that I used in my first risotto. The wine, whose bottle still stands on my kitchen counter, as I hope to meet Coffee one day, and to thank him for his generosity.
And now there is Bob. As I park the car and head to the lab each morning, I search for that tall, slightly slumped, grey haired, grey-eyed figure walking around the parking lot in his blue jacket. We chat for a couple of minutes and talk of old age, memories, families, loans and life's ugly truths. He reminisces about his life as a soldier and I listen to the stories trying to find small pieces of his story, that I put together in my head.
Some times, I think these relationships mean nothing to them, but at others, I know that I care for these people and maybe they care a little too. And so when Bob says that seeing my smiling face in the morning makes his day - it makes my day better. Not just because no one has said that to me in a long time but because I am glad to make a difference to someone's life.
Because, it is nice to know that you are making a difference in the lives of some people, like someone else once did for you. I am happy to know that in that circle of life, I am doing more than just taking solace from the likes of Ernie and Coffee - that sometimes, I spread some joy too.
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