it was getting late. the bottles had almost been emptied, and the guests had settled comfortably in their places, with random conversations flowing. since we were finding it hard to actually make a sane conversation involving all 5 of us, we decided to play a game where one person asks a question, and each member has to take turns to answer it.
“when was the last time you loved yourself?”
“i don’t think i ever did, and if i did, it was probably so long ago that i don’t remember now”
“what is the one thing you like about yourself?”
i found myself drifting away, at one level, and at another, i found myself making a concerted effort to remain civil and participate in the conversation. i left the room for a smoke, and on impulse, i picked up a notebook, and decided to write. really write, for a change, rather than employing the set of keys and going tap-tap-tap.
i was pleasantly surprised, for the purple pen that i thought i had lost, i was now holding in my hand, and writing with it too. it seemed to have found me, just the way it had first found me, and then i had lost sight of it for a while.
she had given it to me. she said she had known me as a little boy, and was quite surprised to meet me after a decade, may be more. sometimes, people tend to forget that everybody grows old, including kids. the truth be told, i had sought the purple pen from her, on impulse, when she offered me a nice looking metallic pen as a parting gift, from her bag. it looked like she was preparing to leave, when father had called out for me to meet to her. she had spontaneously opened her bag, and picked up the pen from within, as if her bag was a treasure trove of those little things, just to be given away to the people she might have bumped across.
i reached across, to receive the purple pen that was hers, that i had wanted, instead of the gift she had intended to give me. she handed it to me, and then gave me a hug. her tiny gait was almost covered by me, though i am no big guy myself.
i have always considered it a privilege to give, no matter what and how much you have, but to give it like you’re giving away all you had. indeed, such givers as this lady, would give all they had, if it came to that. something about her told me that.
i received the gift, and the hug a little tentatively, feeling smaller than i usually do, and thanked her, as i felt a ghost of a smile pass by my lips. a genuine one.