Dudurudh

She slipped a hairband under the bathroom door. An invitation to play fetch. A command to get out of the stupor of my illness. A call back to normalcy. Only the previous night both princess and beans were quietly coiled up on my legs, giving me warmth and company, demanding no attention at all. Today at the start of the new year, they’ve had enough. They sense that I’ve actually recovered but I’m wallowing in some residual self-pity. (They’re right. They always are). Friends come in many forms. None better than those who remorselessly bring you life – sometimes by sipping chai and spilling tea, sometimes on long walks among pine trees, sometimes by lounging in my living room as it were their own (it is), sometimes at concerts (both good and bad),  sometimes sharing books and poetry, sometimes over a drink (maybe 5) roaming the night streets of Boston or DC or Thalassery, sometimes bringing flowers or groceries, sometimes in vineyards or libraries, sometimes at weddings or birthdays, sometimes picking Kurtas across 3 timezones on FaceTime, sometimes even as a cat bringing me a hairband to play with. 

2024 was full of those. May that clan grow in 2025.