Yesterday was our forty-fourth wedding anniversary. The L&M and I went out for lunch at a fancy place. No heavy dinners for us, thank you. I prefer to have only something very light at night, so there’s no point having celebratory dinners in the late evening.

I shared some pictures of the L&M and I on WhatsApp. There were wishes from friends and family. Along with the wishes was a message from a friend that said she was as old as my marriage.

Imagine that. I was friends with someone who was more than two decades younger than me. When I was getting married at twenty-three, she had been but a baby of six months.

When I met my friends for coffee today, this sparked off an interesting conversation about how old each one had been, or what they had been doing in 1982, the year I got married.

“You know something?” I said to them, not in the least surprised by their replies. “For some strange reason, I have always been friends with those a decade or more younger than me!”

For some strange reason, that has indeed been the norm. And it was a fact that all those sitting there with me fell into the category.

Well… umm… all but one.

“But…” I quickly amended, as realisation hit me, “I have friends my age too!” I patted the one sitting next to me and added, “Like this one, here!”

Phew. Saved by the skin of my teeth. What if she had been offended? I needn’t have worried. She smiled—cheekily—and nodded in agreement.

©️ Shail Mohan 2026