“Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.”
― Albert Camus
How many times have we turned to a friend for advice, consolation or merely to share some great news about ourselves? Why do we end up sharing our most intimate moments of life on Facebook, twitter and what not in a bid to reach out to friends? One of my favourite stories in the collection “Fly on the Wall & Other Stories” is about three friends, who are meeting after ten years. Titled ‘Dinner at Bukhara’, it focuses on an evening when three young and successful women catch up for dinner in Bukhara Restaurant to relive pleasant memories. However, what starts out as a girls’ evening out soon transforms into a sharing of secrets and seeking strength and solace from each other.
Some of you may be struck by the familiarity of the characters because I drew heavily upon my own experiences in the hostel of Lady Shri Ram College while writing this story. Dinner at Bukhara is dedicated to all my friends and hostel mates for these young women- Suniti, Rupali and Shikha- are like you and me. I hope the story takes you back to your own days when friends were such a blessing because as Elbert Hubbard said- “A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.”
An excerpt from ‘Dinner at Bukhara’:
“I got you some flowers.”
“Thanks.”
As Suniti settled in, she looked around. In a corner, two young men were sitting, smoking with their arms around each other. Suniti did not realize she was staring till Rupali chided her, “Grow up, Madam. This is the era of sexual liberalization.”
“I know. Somehow I still can’t get used to it, though I know I should.”
“You bet. I had this neighbour in USA, an extremely handsome young man. He was gay. Initially I was wary of spending time with him, almost as if I would catch a dreaded disease if I spoke to him or shook hands. But gradually I got to know him better and found that he was one of the warmest people I had ever met. We are still in touch, you know. By the way, have you noticed how all the best looking men are gay!”
“All this is ok, but how would you feel if your child decided to bring a gay friend home as his life partner?”
Rupali stared morosely at the tastefully decorated table and the beautiful menu card. She looked like a patient who has been reminded of her illness. Suniti realized that by mentioning children, she had strayed into dangerous territory. Rupali had been unsuccessfully trying to start a family for the last six months. She quickly changed the topic of discussion.
“Hmmm. I guess they are just programmed differently. Thank god we are straight, married to straight men…..”
― Albert Camus
How many times have we turned to a friend for advice, consolation or merely to share some great news about ourselves? Why do we end up sharing our most intimate moments of life on Facebook, twitter and what not in a bid to reach out to friends? One of my favourite stories in the collection “Fly on the Wall & Other Stories” is about three friends, who are meeting after ten years. Titled ‘Dinner at Bukhara’, it focuses on an evening when three young and successful women catch up for dinner in Bukhara Restaurant to relive pleasant memories. However, what starts out as a girls’ evening out soon transforms into a sharing of secrets and seeking strength and solace from each other.
Some of you may be struck by the familiarity of the characters because I drew heavily upon my own experiences in the hostel of Lady Shri Ram College while writing this story. Dinner at Bukhara is dedicated to all my friends and hostel mates for these young women- Suniti, Rupali and Shikha- are like you and me. I hope the story takes you back to your own days when friends were such a blessing because as Elbert Hubbard said- “A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.”
An excerpt from ‘Dinner at Bukhara’:
“I got you some flowers.”
“Thanks.”
As Suniti settled in, she looked around. In a corner, two young men were sitting, smoking with their arms around each other. Suniti did not realize she was staring till Rupali chided her, “Grow up, Madam. This is the era of sexual liberalization.”
“I know. Somehow I still can’t get used to it, though I know I should.”
“You bet. I had this neighbour in USA, an extremely handsome young man. He was gay. Initially I was wary of spending time with him, almost as if I would catch a dreaded disease if I spoke to him or shook hands. But gradually I got to know him better and found that he was one of the warmest people I had ever met. We are still in touch, you know. By the way, have you noticed how all the best looking men are gay!”
“All this is ok, but how would you feel if your child decided to bring a gay friend home as his life partner?”
Rupali stared morosely at the tastefully decorated table and the beautiful menu card. She looked like a patient who has been reminded of her illness. Suniti realized that by mentioning children, she had strayed into dangerous territory. Rupali had been unsuccessfully trying to start a family for the last six months. She quickly changed the topic of discussion.
“Hmmm. I guess they are just programmed differently. Thank god we are straight, married to straight men…..”
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