6 am is a wonderful time to be awake, especially on a friday morning. I stood by the kitchen sink, taking in the peach hues of a sunrise. The only sound in that quietude was the coffee filter going “PliP”. I paused some more. And before I knew I was cutting, grating, kneading and rolling the dough to make ‘ parathas with jam’ for the lunch boxes. The thoughts that consume me during these moments are usually the same — A mental run through of today’s todoist, a quick recap of where i left off at work and a brief rush of the runner’s high at finishing my workout before sunrise!
But today was different. I suddenly recalled a dream I had right before my alarm had gone off. It was about getting back in touch with an old friend. And funnily enough my brain had dug to the depths of remembering her mobile number which i knew byheart many moons ago. It didnt hurt, but it was a dull regret that the years of distance had reduced staying-in-touch to “likes” and exchanges of “what else?”. It was a natural run down that comes from not knowing what to say or share; and the moment it comes to a discussion of the weather, you know where its headed.
By the time the parathas were sizzling on the tava, I fondly remembered the long list of friendships that have stood the test of time and distance in my near-nomadic life; and there is that list of gently-letting-go and abruptly-ended, as well. And the third kind that emerged from blogging and twitter, which is a sort of a sisterhood of having each others back, that is so hard to explain to someone else!
“the camaraderie in female friendships are like that” I smiled, as I smothered the butter and jam, before wrapping the parathas. It was almost 6:30 and sunlight was seeping through my window. I quickly made a cup of coffee before the bustle of my morning would take over. I sulked at the first sip. It tasted nothing like what amma got me used to every morning when she was here for the summer. I made a mental note to ask her how she brewed it.
Like an afterthought, it hit me, that not all relationships suffer with distance. The every morning call to my mother is a testament to that statement. Infact, we have settled into this comfortable acceptance that we get along best when not under the same roof. I nodded a little thankyou to no one in particular for that early morning revelation. It was a near zen-like-moment; before I caught the shuffle of footsteps upstairs. My family was waking up and it was time to let the morning cave in!