The People In My Life

In response to Dancing Elephants prompt 8 of 52

‘Well,’ she wrote, in typical tongue-in-cheek Vidya Sury, Collecting Smiles mode, ‘if you don’t know where to begin from, why don’t you start in the middle?’

So here goes. From the middle it is.

I am grateful for the people in my life. ALL of them. There are those who populated my life in the past, who have disappeared from it. There are those who are present, in the present. And there are those in the past and the present, who might be a part of my life in the future.

There was a time when I used to grieve about some of those who were no longer part of my life. Their absences are caused either by death or distance, mental or physical. I used to be racked by guilt because of the thought that they were no longer a part of my life, and I used to ask myself, shouldn’t I have made an effort to keep them in my life? Shouldn’t I have made that phone call, written that letter, gone for that visit?

But then I realised that it worked both ways. What I could have done, they could have, too.

And, even more importantly, perhaps it was time for them to leave? Perhaps that relationship needed to end there? ‘Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further…’? Perhaps it was a ‘friendship for a season’, and no more? So now I view these with more equanimity, and have banished guilt about their absence.

Then there are those who wandered into my orbit, and stayed. They are present in my life, and every one of them has made my life richer and more fulfilling. They lend it meaning, they create music in it, they fill it with magic. My family, close and extended, my students and their kin, my Facebook friends, Instagram interests, Medium mates and anyone else who looked in, stayed for tea and became companion, crony and comrade.

Returning to India after a year was a bitter sweet revelation. I found that some of the people I loved loved me back: absence did make the heart fonder. Some of those I thought loved me found vague but wonderful reasons not to meet me. My family in India welcomed me with open arms and hearts: nothing had changed there, thank God. Some of my students turned up to meet me, some by accident, some, out of choice.

My erstwhile colleague who has both a highly developed sixth sense, and a ‘seeing eye’, who can actually visualise things before they happen called me the instant I reached, and told me, “Suma, I know you’re here for a month, but I have a feeling that I won’t have much time to meet you. So, can we meet immediately?” I agreed instantly, and we met. True to her premonitions, she had to rush to Mangalore to attend her ailing mother, and then back again, to be with a beloved nephew who was slated for a 14-hour, and very complicated surgery.

And when we returned to Melbourne again, there was another branch of the family waiting to welcome us with open arms. Three of these sets of arms are very small: one belonging to a three-year old, who came running to us, abandoning her playmates and toys, and rushed into our arms. The other two are of two small ten-month old human beings who expressed their joy in their own language of screams, smiles and cuddles.

I am grateful to all the people in my life. They made me what I am today, and they lend colour to my dreams, shape my desires and touch my heart. Whether they mean well, or ill, I am glad of their past, present and future presence in my life.

ⓒ 2022 Suma Narayan. All Rights Reserved.

My story is a response to the following prompt: