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Call me Diya. It is not the name my parents gave me, but it is the name I usually go by which will do to describe a girl in her late teens, tall and thin and with hair currently dyed dark brown. I think that I look unremarkable to most people, neither remarkably too attractive nor specifically plain. I was born in 1985, the first of three children in a middle-class family. My father was an engineer and my mother was a teacher and sometime concert violinist, who gave both up in the spirit of the times to bring up the family. My mother was twenty-two when I was born, and in the four years that followed my arrival she gave birth to a girl and a boy.
Though I very much wanted to lead a luxurious life with a posh home, a BMW car, expensive wardrobes and friendship with smart guys and rich girls in the college, I couldnt achieve any of those things because I belonged to a middle-class family. I wanted to be like the other teens who lived a carefree life, leading their companions in singing, dancing, and merrymaking. My parents provided me with everything but it was just the bare minimum to exist. I always had just one dream, I had to become rich. But I had no idea about how to achieve it. I didn't care if the money was hard earned and honestly made; I just wanted to make a lot of money. Although I had my own dreams, I did love my parents and so did they. At times I had the habit of planning a few sentences to let my mother know how much I loved and respected her. I used to have the words in my mind for days, at times for months. But once the situation arose, all I did was to talk to her about something else. My parents sacrificed a lot to give me luxuries. They did their best to take care of me.
I loved going for a jog every morning to keep my body slim. It happened one morning between me and smart, vibrant, handsome Robert in the jogging tracks. He was cool, bold, and strong. Our first meeting was very friendly and memorable, and I spent the rest of the day thinking about his charm. Somehow I developed an interest to be his friend and wanted to meet him everyday. I felt a new world, new feelings, and new experience through my bond with this new friend, Robert. His bold and candid character amazed me. I became such a true friend that I even used to set an alarm so that I can meet him every morning. During the conversations with him, I came to know that he belonged to a rich family and owned a leading real-estate firm. Robert was able to have his way because he was rich and all the assets were in his name. I developed a hope that all my dreams will come true if I become his best friend. We used to share our daily routines with each other. I felt at ease and comfortable while chatting with him and over the days, I did not want to let a day pass by without meeting him.
One Sunday morning, as I and my parents were returning from the temple, my mother took me to a coffee-shop and started giving me sermons about life and advised me to snap the friendship with rich guys like Robert. She told me that she came to know about our friendship through one of her friends who was also a morning jogger in the same track. I never took my mothers advice seriously and continued to meet him as usual because it was hard to control something called friendship that happens to all of us, at some time in our lives. I thought I deserved every right to choose my friends and to move with them the way I wanted. I made up my mind to throw a party on my birthday at a famous restaurant in the city and decided to invite him. On the occasion, I was determined to tell him how much his friendship meant to me. With great difficulty I mobilized the funds by borrowing money from most of my friends and prepared myself for the day. Two days before my birthday, I invited him and he agreed to attend the occasion with a warm smile. As the day was nearing, I was becoming more and more anxious.
On my birthday, I dressed up in my best dress and headed toward the restaurant. After I reached the restaurant, I waited for him for more than three hours, but there was no sign of him. In spite of that, I still wanted to be by his side, care for him, accompany him, and be his best buddy hoping that he would come any moment and brighten my day. It was like waiting for him every minute, wanting him to come. I thought that no matter how busy he was, he would make time for me. As time passed, I felt a kind of uneasiness and I almost wanted to cry. The hotel manager came and informed me that it was time for them to close the restaurant. I called him over the phone to know his situation. He spoke in a casual manner and said that he cannot make it and gave some lame excuses. I was disheartened and tears moistened my eyes. I was not able to get what I wanted and all that was left was the grim reality which was bitter. The suffering was so strong that I couldn't stand it. I very much wanted to shout but couldn't. Tears rolled down and I broke down and wept. The bitterness in my heart could by no means be described by using a lemon. It was like hundred rotten sour lemons, sourness to the extreme limit.
This journey to the restaurant in the hope that Robert would care for me awakened me from the ignorance and brought me to the reality of life. On the following days in the mornings, I realized that I need not be in a hurry to wear my sneakers and go for jogging. I still do not know what I really meant to him; however, the very fact that he did not give me the priority, which I thought I deserved, made a point that his casual friendship with me was not as special as I thought. I decided to start the new journey with realities of life as my guiding force. Although I wasn't able to have rich friends around me, I understood that being contended with what I have would make me lead a healthy life and of course I knew that my parents would always be there for me when I needed them.
Ms. Deepa Krish,
Baltimore, MD, USA
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