A Chapter of My Life - Just For You.

[Another examination, another essay. This time, edited.]

Rubber Duckies and other such random items. 'Blah' and other such random words. Life and other such random processes. A black box of preserved memories. A notebook in front of me aptly titled, Chapters of My Life. I sat sifting through my memory box.
Letters, notes and bits of papers emerged. Each with its own history, its own story. Letter given to me, letters I never sent, notes passed in class, notes sent home. Scraps of my past all wrapped up in a box. A black box of preserved memories.
I sat documenting my memories. A random thought of the possibility of Alzheimer's and amnesia had induced me to do so. I never wanted to forget my memories and if my internal diary, memory, did fail me, I wanted a back up. A hard copy if you will.
As I finished off with the letters, I came across a pencil with bits of paper wrapped around it attached to an old fading photograph. I stared at the photograph as tears welled up in my eyes and two little girls smiled back at me with muddy faces and dark, gleaming eyes. Mahak and me at age four.
Mahak had been my best friend when I lived in Vasant Kunj, New Delhi. She was my upstairs neighbor, whose balcony I first learned to serenade at the tender age of seven. She lived in the apartment above ours on the first floor and I would climb atop our gate and sing songs to her and she would sing them back. She would always crack first and collapse on the floor of her balcony, laughing and I would fall off the gate and dissolve into fits of giggles.
The picture that was now blurring before my eyes had been taken by her father right after we had tried to eat wet mud because it looked like chocolate, and had been caught. She was squeezing me tight while I stood there, mud clenched in my fist, grinning from ear to ear. When I moved from Vasant Kunj to gurgaon, she gave me the picture as a going away gift with the pencil, which she had wrapped scraps of paper around that had our names as well as the phrase 'friends forever' all over it.
I sat back and thought of the time she rescued me from the puppies. I was and still am a passionate dog lover so when we discovered a litter of puppies in in the bushes by the park, I was naturally ecstatic. I sat down among them and started playing with them. When it was time to leave, I patted them all on the head and trotted off... only to be pulled back. Four of the seven puppies had caught hold of my frock and were pulling me back. Then fifth and a sixth joined in while the seventh sat and watched the show, his head cocked to one side. I did then what I did best at the age of five when faced with danger. I started crying.
My mother, for whom I was wailing passionately, was nowhere to be seen. So my superhero in 'power puff dungarees' decided, with all the goodness in her heart, to take matters into her own hands and rescue me, bless her. Mahak grabbed two puppies and shoved them in the bush and grabbed a third while yelling at me to run. I did just that, dragging three puppies behind me for a good ten-twelve feet. When they let go we ran home and collapsed in the garden outside my house as the stairs to her seemed like Everest to our tired bodies. I had stared at her with awe. Eight months older than me, she sat there, satisfied and calm, a picture of nonchalance as she chewed on a blade of grass. She had saved my life. She was my hero. I had to make it up to her so I offered her my brother. She loved him. He was two years younger and he smelt funny. yet, she loved him as I did.
I laughed at how insane we were. A life for a life. Simple. I smiled and thought of how in her wisdom and generosity she had accepted him with grace and then decided to share him with me knowing I loved him with all my heart.
The good old days. "The golden days, when life was great and pain was all a world away." Lionel Richie sang aptly at that precise moment and the music filled my room and my heart. "We we to school, we learned the rules. trusted in all they had to say. Then life took a turn we all had to learn that we can't go back again."
I missed her, I missed us. We had lost touch and as I put the picture away and wrote down its description and history, I felt nostalgic. Lionel Richie sang on "and my heart is breaking, Just For You, Just For You. And my arms are open, Just For You. Just For You.
I picked up a piece of paper and started to write a letter, "Just For You," I thought. "Just For You."