An unusual friendship took shape on a mundane, usual morning! With my kids quite on time, to board the red bus to school, I was gazing at the new commuter who joined us at the bus- stop. She said hello to one of my other friends in Bengali and as we joined in together we ladies gossiped a while until reaching our destination 15 minutes away. I distinctly remember my friendships with people, reason being they pour such warmth and affection into the ‘friendship pot’.
She is Bangladeshi by birth but has travelled Portugal and London. She is very fluent in her Bengali, at times so fast that I feel I am missing a train. Very comely, simply-dressed with a head cover, neat and tidy shoes and bag, Lutfu is always wearing a smile. She tugs me if I mistakably haven’t noticed her. Her younger daughter is the apple of her eye. The older one, now I find quite resolute, hard-working, responsible and quiet. Over our short-distance travel to school, our friendship bloomed.
We discussed our womanly worlds of husbands, kids, house work, education, countries and cultures. Both of us shared the same busy days, problems at home with kids, daily ups and downs but the best part was we solved them on our 15 minute journeys together. And both of us looked forward to meeting. I understood some more of the Eid festival and that she absorbed Hindi better than English from her Bollywood fascinations of cinema and music. She partook a lot of recipes for quick-cooking and kids-healing from me. I always found her inquisitive and wanting to rise and move.
London is a mix and match of cultures and the best part is: English culture starts to wear off on anyone who has lived long enough, not more than two years! The thank you, sorry and wonderful greets you ever so often, that it permits you to mingle and ‘twinkle’. Another good thing about London is the weather changes often, such that life has no qualms about opening and closing books. The sun never rises in the British Empire; the people rise.
As the ‘weather’ changed for me, my little son now started full-time school and I had plenty of time at hand, so I thought of openings for myself. At the time I was completely motivated to start teaching. My over-enthusiasm took me to the streets distributing leaflets on creative writing workshops for kids. I remember my very cold hands painfully numb, almost freezing and myself wearing a broad smile trying to connect to parents outside school. On another such day, as I was doing rounds posting into letterboxes, my great friend bumped into me and I was invited to her most humble, big-hearted house. I was charged up with lunch already so I could energetically do the posting of pamphlets. Yet, her special meal was superb-tasting; the chat was out of the world and the departing full of more motivation. Sad to say, the pamphlet queries were none! I was more charged with the failure, her ‘carry-on’ attitude and discussion on hourly rate for my teaching.
Soon, my friend Lutfu had her elder daughter’s eleven plus exams and doing rounds for lessoning and testing. Time flew by and I could see what I too dream of, in her eyes — a better tomorrow for our kids! Seasons changed. We met as before, welcoming, happy and with new resolutions. Lutfu had joined English lessons at a college and I was in similar position now as she was earlier. Acknowledging that she had gone through certain experience with kid’s education, I checked if she could help.
Loads of resource materials were received from her. I was thankful to her and many other friends on information sharing and with certain confidence taught my elder daughter at home. Quite unbelievably, she did clear the exams with self preparation, many books bought and friendly help! A parent can never count expenditures on education and up-bringing, reason being the call of duty. I returned Lutfu by certain small favours- entrusting her child with me for a day as she went renewing her passport. We shared gifts — real ones; gifts of love, caring and sharing. And to continue the good circle of deeds and help done unto me, I shared school books with another ‘bus-stop Spanish friend’ who has a handicapped son. She was indeed very grateful.
What I really count are my unusual friendships made and the countless ones I still make. Lutfu has moved house. In this New Year I have promised to meet her again. We don’t meet at the bus-stop. We chat on messaging, grab few seconds on school run smiling at each other, and so with so many of my other friends. I am extremely thankful to those women who have lit my path and who continue to do so on numerous occasions.
Last year was rough and beautiful, like the waves of the sea. I taught at the Gurudwara, imparting few lessons in English to women who had never studied the language when young. My art workshops took form, as well as my Hindi lessoning with kids. Other women have encouraged me to take risk and shape a business.
I dedicate this poem to those numerous women who have boosted my confidence in myself and contributed to my well-being:
What is in store is never known,
the present is all that counts.
What I can make with you my friend (or with you woman),
is a very big amount.
The future will be guided,
with those who share a path.
They will find a way out
Those who have a heart!
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