unfinished friendship

My friend Ameeta
It was in early 2000 when I was in the ‘hey’ days pf my profession that Ameeta came into my ‘chamber’ to interact on some ‘women’ article she was writing as a magazine journalist.
As 2 empowered women who had survived their own turmoils we immediately hit it off, which
followed by a precious friendship
She became a part of my personal group and was ‘active, active’ to say the least.
She danced, sang ’OMkara, and Bidi lagaio’. Was the most well dressed, made up--- and I can just go on----
Besides a writer, who started to take my views and ‘quote’ me in most things, she was primarily a ‘Wine connoisseur’ rather unusual. For this she would travel often to Italy, France, Austria, and was in the company of the European people of a certain special kind.
I dare say, she would often fantasize and wish she would meet someone outside ‘out of her profession’. When we went for Dinners she would choose the most exquisite Wine, the right amount in the glass (no cheating).
She would laugh and say she lived in a Singles’ den with a widower father, unmarried doctor brother and sister still not married.
She also had a trait; she never discussed her health problems but was there when any one needed her.
Through the years I had discovered that she had one Kidney. Through the years I also found that she would often visit Mumbai.
As a Doctor friend when I recently asked how she felt, she smiled and said she was OK as her brother was taking care of her at AIIMS.
Yesterday as I was watching my favorite serial ‘Balika Vadhu’ where the child bride Anandi was talking of the evils of child marriage, I got a call “Ameeta is no more----
“The funeral would be at Nigam Bodh Ghat------“.
Nigam Bodh Ghat where my Father was cremated some years ago and Mother, last year.
By the Banks of River Yamuna, Pyres are arranged in rows burning at various stages. Both parents had been laid on a bed for the last time, made of thick logs of wood under and around. Un-under stood Mantras were chanted for their peaceful departure.
The heat of the Flames sort of ‘Thaws’ the frozen insides and silent tears begin to flow. Although ‘they’ go away forever, bits of their soul still continue to live in us to re-visit from time to time and give of them-selves as they always had.
Some visitors come for a last glimpse. Others to fulfill the customary need and then hurry back to go with ‘the business of the day’.
I had last met Ameeta when we went to see the heart rendering movie ‘the Black Swan’. As was her style she complained to the ‘young, handsome Manager’ (as she described him later), about our ticket reservation. The least he could do was to offer us Coffee in the lounge as we waited for our seats.
The beautiful Ballerina, the Black swan would ‘slash herself’ before each performance towards producing a perfect act. After the final dance, she leaped to Death from the Back stage. The Audience ecstatic with her performance and oblivious of ‘her end’ stood up and gave a thunderous applause. Ameeta thought she was Psychotic. I differed.
We ate sparingly at the food court as she had a delicate stomach. She got a ‘kathi Kebab’ packed for her Brother. We parted to meet again to discuss and understand the ‘complexes’ of the Black swan.
Ameeta, today I stand in painful silence and applaud the beautiful way you lived ‘this business of living life’.
Affectionately, Veena 7.6.2011