Last month a friend invited me to her place. “You’ll like it here Chechi,” she said over the phone. “There are fields nearby, and lots of greenery. You’ll like it.” she added. Chechi is Malayalam for elder sister.

Yeah, she knows me alright. I am a sucker for greenery. Add birds or butterflies to the equation and I am a goner.

“There’s a railway line running right behind my house too,” she said as if an added attraction was necessary to get me to visit her.

If all this wasn’t enough, she magnanimously offered to send her car and driver. It was an hour and a half’s drive away and she knew I don’t drive.

“You can pick up aunty too,” she continued, referring to mother “and both of you can spend the day with me and Amma. It would make Amma happy.”

Her mother and mine, now in their mid-eighties, are college-mates of yore and have remained friends ever since. Their very first meeting was iconic. It was the first day of college (this was the 50s), and the two fifteen year olds ended up next to each other in their classroom.

“What’s your name?” One asked the other (not really sure who asked the first question)

“V…..” came the reply. “And what’s your name?”

“I am V….. too” came the surprised (and pleased) answer.

Legend goes that they have been friends since that first day.

What’s even more surprising is that both of them have two daughters and a son, in the same order too. If that’s not serendipity, tell me what is.

Growing up, my friend and her family have lived mostly in Trivandrum, but my family has been roaming around as father’s transferable job took us to different places. But whenever we were back in Trivandrum, my parents visited them thus keeping the connection going. I suppose the friends wrote to each other too, since those were the days of hand-written letters.

Surprisingly enough, her eldest daughter and mother’s eldest daughter (Me!) have become friends. We may not be in touch for days together, but she will call me out of the blue one day and I do the same and we carry on from where we left off. Thus though we aren’t classmates, our friendship runs on similar lines to that of our mothers.

She is also my fan numero uno. She remembers each and everything I said during my visits, even the colour and design of the frocks and skirts I wore, the songs I sang, how I plaited my hair. Funnily enough, I don’t remember half of what she says. By the way, even today it is no different, because she is all praise for me, my home and the way I keep it neat, the clothes I wear.

I am all admiration for her too, her cooking skills for one, but more importantly the way she manages a large family (not just her own but of those around her whom she considers ‘family’ like the drivers she employs, the nurses in her husband’s hospital, the house helps, all of whom she considers her own), as also the fearless way she deals with matters in life.

When I reached her home with mother in tow, V….. aunty was at the door to greet us. As she welcomed us inside, she looked at me and said with wonder, “Isn’t it amazing how you children are carrying on our friendship!”

Indeed it is.

Here are some pictures from the day.

©️ Shail Mohan 2025