I know her from standard 5th. I confess I made friends with her because she had the cutest dimples. Later, I realized her I loved her for one more reason. While she hogged on my lunch, I loved the amazing Idlis, Appam and Uttapam that sprang out of her lunch box. Happily we exchanged our boxes and chit-chatted during the break. With time, we became  great friends.

 In the two years that we studied together, our families bonded over too. In the vacations we would alternately spend our days at each other houses playing, reading books, painting or running after the butterflies. And she would teach me singing and dancing as her mother was a trained one in both. We were almost inseparable. I loved being her friend because she was known as the ‘Girl with the cutest dimples’  and her laughter was famous everwhere in the neighborhood. They whispered she would be a no less than a damsel when she would grow up.

One day, she came to school with swollen eyes. I asked her but she refused to reveal the truth. After my several nudges,  ‘not talking to you ever’  stares and God swears, she gave in and cried her heart out. Her parents were separating legally and her Mum had decided to take her to Kanpur. For that moment, I went numb. I thought such things never happened in real and now it was happening with someone so close to me.  I thought this was just a figment of imagination of her creative mind but soon she was gone by the end of the session. We promised to keep in touch by writing letters and sending postcards to each other.

We did write letters to each other religiously and for next three years until the boards examinations we maintained the rhythm diligently. Once in a year, we would even exchange our photograph. She was growing into a beautiful girl and for the age had arrived when I felt jealous too. In these years, I moved to Delhi and her Mum moved to Mumbai. As the pressure of studies in higher classes began to mount, the frequency of our letters decreased. Soon it was time to join college when we lost touch absolutely. I joined an engineering college while she chose to do some acting degree.  By this time, she was also doing some singing events with her Mom. Though we did not interact for two years at a stretch but the image of her as the one with the cutest dimples stayed with me. The last picture of her showed that she was no less than a diva.

Exactly five years ago, I heard from her when she suddenly declared that she was getting married to an NRI. She was extremely happy and pepped up about the big day. Sadly, I couldn’t make it because she never invited me. She had said it was too private affair and her husband wanted to keep the event restricted for family members. I cried on her wedding day because I had so wanted to see her all decked up as a bride with the infectious smile. I knew she would look like a Goddess.  She always said she would dance in her wedding. I wanted to see the grooves. In a few months, she did update me that she was leaving for Australia with her husband. She sounded super energetic and vivacious but a little sad too for her mother who would have to live alone. I remember she hinted that her husband was not keen on taking her mother along.

She promised she would come for my marriage but I missed her vibrant presence. Thank God, there were other friends who did not let me down. In the next two years, I lived a busy life.  Not for a moment did I think about the cutest friend of mine. I had no inkling what was happening in my friends life until she called me one day. I was at the airport and I was supposed to fly outside India. Her voice sounded broken and dejected, so unlike her. There was no laughter and there was no zing in the voice. I wondered if the dimples had vanished too. Before I could ask much, she spoke for herself. I lost my Mum, my baby and my husband. For a moment, I couldn’t comprehend the severity of the statement.

She elaborated more….

You know what I was married to a pervert. He abused me and my mother. I lied to you, to everyone. We never had a grand wedding. He never treated me like a wife. When we traveled to Australia, he physically abused me day and night. He would lock me in the house and return completely drunk in the night. He would beat me black and blue. Once, he stubbed his cigarette in my dimples. And when I was expecting a baby, he pushed me and killed the baby too. He would not let me speak to my mother and when she died, he did not even inform me. Finally one day I gathered courage and stole some money to run away. And now I am in Pune at one of my cousin’s place. I want to come to Delhi to meet you. I need your help. 

I felt so helpless. I couldn’t utter a word. When I gathered senses I was supposed to walk in queue to my flight. I did not know what to say, how to help her.  She waited and when I did not answer, she said ‘don’t worry, I know you must be having other commitments.’  I really felt bad for not being able to meet her and be of any help. I explained her my situation and promised that I would be back in two months and then would do everything to set things right. But I knew she was in utter depression and two months was a big risk. I made her promise that she would not give up in any case and try everything to start her life fresh.  She said she would do. I gave my cousin’s number and asked him to extend help.

Two months later when I returned,  first thing I met her. After more than twenty years when I saw her my heart almost jumped a beat. She looked so frail and weak. She had lost the charm. She did look the girl that I always had the image of, I had felt jealous of. The dimples were still there but one had a mark. It reminded of her shameless husband. I hugged her and cried my heart out. She was in Delhi and for months I had to help her get over with her low esteem and depression. Her father had left her enough money, thankfully she did not have to struggle. In the last one year, she had been doing good. She had begun to smile in bits and pieces but her infectious laughter is lost in the torture that her soul has bourne. She is scared at the mention of re-marriage and husband.

My friend with the cutest smile needs absolute freshness in her life. Wish someone could undo everything that has made her so depressed. I want to find the right guy for her and help her with a re-marriage. I want to plan a wedding for her with the coolest people Allu Arjun and Anushka Manchanda grooving and singing in the party. Let these two talented people act like angels , remind her of her dancing and singing abilities and bring back all the charm and freshness of her life.

My friend is my age. She is hardly thirty. She has an entire life staring at her. I want her smiles and her laughter back. I want her to move out of depression. Everyday, I wish for an absolutely cheerful life for her. I want her to start fresh with new vigor and new zeal in her life. She needs the freshness most. I want her to dance and sing like the young girl that I had made friends as. I want the girl with the cutest dimples back. I hope #MaxFreshMove takes initiatives and comes up with a helping hand for people who have lost the hope of living and moving ahead in life.

I have never had a friend described as above but I have heard many stories of beautiful girls  who are married to NRI boys and later killed for dowry or other petty issues. Others who survive  are pushed into depression. Lets bring freshness in the lives of those people who have given up on their confidence and have no desire to live. Lets inspire them of their hobbies (dancing and singing), abilities and potential and lets fill their life with freshness.

“I am blogging for #MaxFreshMove activity at BlogAdda.com. Are you?

Written by

Manjulika Pramod

An engineer who loves to be called a blogger more!
Traveler, short-story writer, voracious reader, foodie is the better me!
Reading, eating, traveling, exploring, observing and blogging are the beautiful highs of my life.