An Honest Confession

Dear Paula,

Hope life is treating you well and you are in the best of your spirit as usual.

Paula, being the closest to my heart as a friend, you must be under the impression that you are aware of all the secrets in my heart. But let me tell you that I have a confession to make today. Yes, I cannot carry this burden in my heart any longer. Of course I do have the confidence that this bitter revelation will not affect our friendship. My confidence is based on nothing but my knowledge of your unmatched soul and also your feelings and fondness for me.

Carrying this burden of lie in my heart for years together in the fear of losing my closest friend, I give up today. Perhaps it is a part of the providential design. Do you remember the Talent Search Test we applied for in our twelfth standard together? You were so upset that in spite of meeting all the eligibility criteria, you never got a call for it. And I, being inferior according to their eligibility standards, was called for the test! Paula, let me confess today that I had torn off your call letter and you believed hat it never came. I did it in the sheer fear of losing in the competition. In spite of my love for you as a friend, I was tired of being next to you in talent in every field. I wanted to win!

Perhaps, "mean" is an euphemistic expression to describe this act of mine. I wouldn't like to demean you by asking for your forgiveness. In the honor of our friendship, I leave it to you entirely to decide the ways of my penance.

As always,

Susan

First Post

Hi guys! Let me take my first step into world of blogging today. I would like to kick off with this short story.

Summer had just set in. It was a sunny bright morning; I was on my way to Neil’s house in Palo Alto. I was sincerely looking forward to meeting him. In our struggle for existence, we had not met since long. Neil, being the only channel for me to reminisce about my childhood, meant a lot to me. I got immersed into my memories of the days we spent together. Our growing up years! Finally, I realized I had reached his place. My joy knew no bounds when I saw him standing at his gate waiting for me with open arms. My good old brother with all his warmth! He hugged me tight and tears of joy rolled down our cheeks. We were spell bound for the next few moments on being reunited.

He just mumbled, “Charlie, my dear brother, you haven’t changed much.”

I replied, “But Neil, you resemble Dad so much these days!”

I felt I got the same warmth we used to enjoy in Papa’s embrace. Neil led me inside his house and we sat to chat over coffee.

“Tell me, how are things? You must be quite established now in Florida, aren’t you?”

As he went up to attend a phone call, I noticed the framed photograph of Mom and Dad with two of us in our Brooklyn Roads house. I kept on vacantly gazing at it.

“Did you get a chance to visit Brooklyn Roads ever since we left the place?” I asked Neil.

He breathed heavily and nodded his head in negation.

“What is left there to attract us now?” Neil continued, “Just memories, Charlie. We can hardly get to meet any of our old acquaintances. We would be lucky if we meet even one.”

I could read it in Neil’s eyes that he was almost transported to that world, lost in recounting old memories.

“You remember Charlie how we used to race up and down the staircase.”

“ How Mom used to strain her voice calling us to come to the dinner table! Papa’s much-awaited warm hug as he came back home after a long tiring day? The hustle and bustle created by the unending struggle of the people of that area to make both ends meet!”

I could read the intensity of emotion in Neil’s eyes.

“Our school, Charlie? Do you remember? My teacher was the first one to recognize the dreamer in me. She used to be upset that I was not regular in my studies. She would say “He is just not trying. Got a good head but his feet are flying” What could have been a better compliment to boost the morale of a student as well as a way to reprimand him due to his lack of effort. My mind always walks through those memory lanes. I wonder what must have happened to my Brooklyn roads! Is there a little boy staying in my room, Charlie? Who stands at my window and flies to the dreamland every now and then with his wings of fantasy.”

At that moment Neil’s son came back from school with a report card in his hand quite similar to his Dads with almost a similar, although not same, comment from his teacher. What a coincidence. History repeats itself in some way or the other. Neil and I couldn’t help ourselves and burst into laughter.