Girls' Night Out

I had gone to Medford to visit a friend last Saturday. How I know her is easy to explain but difficult to comprehend.

My first time at Davis Square and I immediately liked the young, restless crowd of students at the park in front of Somerville Theater who had their conversations richly punctuated with words like "fucking", "shit" etc that made English sound almost like an alien language. Reminded me of my undergrad days where shouting profanities in the street was considered cool. SS suggested that we go to J.P.Licks and have Kahlua. Having an ice cream on a cold winter evening is also my idea of having fun. She showed me a newspaper and asked if I can find a recurring theme. I observed : 'It seems to be for transgenders.' and added that Massachusetts was the first US state to legalize marriage of same-sex couples.

We aborted the idea to get into a pub because neither of us was carrying a passport or proof of age. We took a bus to Arlington Street and then walked to Sharon Street where she lives. I got introduced to her roommate SG2 who is pursuing her MS in Occupational Therapy and had an interesting conversation about Dyslexia, Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), Autism and other spectrum disorders. I tried to explain what Strategic Consulting means and sang a song about MBTI profiles and Jungian philosophy.

It was dancing to loud peppy numbers like hostel days again. And someone else cooking for me. Which felt good for a change, of course. We played 'Truth or dare?' , an old favorite till around 2:30 in the night and retired to bed promising that the one who woke up earliest would rouse the others. It was 11:49 AM by my watch when I opened my eyelids dreamily on Sunday morning.

SS showed me the snaps of her ex boyfriend who was my classmate in middle school. I hadn't seen him since a long time. Incidentally, he called up the same evening and I got to talk. It was awkward. I knew what had transpired between them, partially from a friend and now I didn't know whether to completely avoid it or say something. Personally, I don't like people intruding into my private affairs and I'd hate myself if I have to do it some time. But when I saw her face lit up when he had called and the fondness with which she was showing his pictures to me, I wished to say : 'You guys look great together' but I bit my lip and kept quiet. I hope that they get to be together again but I don't really know what is the best thing to ask for. She reminded me of who I was, about an year and a half ago. Lost, wanting a way with life, and very much in love with memories. I got over it. And somehow she assumed that I did.

I was reading 'Interpreter of Maladies', the Pulitzer winning short stories' collection of the then débutante Jhumpa Lahiri. Her language is not artful but she has a knack of scribbling down minute details which gives life to the pages. In "A Temporary Matter' for instance, she writes: Shukumar gathered onion skins in his hands and let them drop into the garbage pail, on top of the ribbons of fat he'd trimmed from the lamb.

I appreciate lucidity of expression even if it is an intense book. But profundity coupled with simplicity comes naturally to probably a mature writer. If not in biological age or in volumes of published works, at least, in perception.

I wish to know a lot more people than I have already known. Feel what they feel. Empathize with them. Notice what makes them sad, and more importantly- what makes them happy. I believe that what makes you smile defines you more than what makes you weep. You can cry when in agony or in pain or when insulted. But you can laugh at them too and more. Also, there is no greater put off than misplaced humor.

In truth or dare, SG2 asked if would I ditch a guy if someone better came along. I said 'No" laconically at first. Then I expanded : It takes a lot of time to build something but hardly a moment to destroy it. I'd not want to ruin something which we both invested in. Not until things go really wrong. The greatest human tragedy is not people falling out of love with each other. It is one falling out of love with oneself.

The girls' talk continued, encompassing guys and their flimsy ways to win over a girl, how the other sex has better culinary skills nowadays, where is a good shop to have a bargain, where threading can be done instead of waxing eyebrows etc. Typical, and enjoyable. Something you can never have with a guy sticking around. We made pancakes in the morning and it was my idea, SS's provisions and SG2's execution. SG2 asked us to have them while she made them hot, we insisted we would wait for her to join us too. It led to the collective confession of how much we felt that we are becoming more like our moms , viz the joy in 'serving hot' to others while we are in the kitchen.

I guess my mother did not rest satisfied about my domestic abilities until my brother and friends called her up to give me certificates of merit. Sometimes I think it is strange - it feels like another world where I was not even allowed to fetch a glass of water for myself (Jal gariye khaoya in Bengali) Now, from grocery to laundry- everything has to be done on my own. Not that I despise it- it is just a way of life here. And I have got so used to cooking everyday that I got back in the afternoon to cook something because I felt as uneasy as I'd have if I hadn't brushed my teeth in the night.

Growing up is fun!