From my diaries:Jan-Feb 2003

Damn that dhobi. He had to leave the clothes in 121. I cannot go and ask him now. For that, I'll have to knock at his door and talk to him. What a nuisance!

I would not have shared this from my past. But then, there is a reason. Sometimes, we do not realise the effort that comes from the other person in a seemingly 'everyday' situation. We overlook it and then one fine day, we become wise enough to realise that there really was no sense at all in holding on to threads of dislike. That, such things numb the senses.

I shall however, not tell you why or how we had fallen out. After all, just a boy like me, different in many ways and having not much in common with me; we could at least have been acquaintances. And there have been some good times too when we had worked together for the stage. But having asked myself this question many times as to why I did not tolerate this one person having tolerated so many more, perhaps worse, I have arrived at the conclusion that it must have been somewhere, a lack of respect. And I shall leave it at that.

The dhobi came on Tuesdays and Saturdays. Or maybe it was Sundays. Anyway, he came at a time when I was not there and having found my room locked, had given the clothes to 121. My room being 119. As I returned to the hostel, the dhobi, on his way out said, "Aapke kapde 121 mein rakha hai".

I waited for two days to get my clothes back. I thought he might just drop them in my room. I'd say thank you and we could go back to living as we were. But when I did not get my clothes on the 4th day, I had to go and ask him.

I knocked at his door. Feeling terribly conscious at having to speak for the first time in 8 months, I felt uncomfortable.

"I er...came to take my clothes...the dhobi said he left them with you." I bumbled.

He considered me for a moment. "Oh I thought they belonged to Gupta", he said, handing them over to me. I turned to leave after thanking him. I even flashed a smile...more out of reflex than anything else.

"Keshab wait. Come in."

"Oh God! What now!" I stepped into his room.

"I know we fell out...for reasons...you know?" he looked at me suggestively.

"I don't know," I said.

"Anyway, maybe we can forget all that and be OK again".

I nodded.

For a few days afterwards, I said 'Hi' and we did share in the same conversation with others though never really speaking to each other. Over time that stopped and we got back to our old selves and left each other alone. I really was not willing to make that effort.

Not until now did I realise that I should atleast give credit for one thing. That he did try to break the ice and he did extend his hand. I just did not take it with an open mind. Probably, it would not have hurt to give up old opinions and suspicions and accept the hand. Maybe we could never be friends but atleast we could have talked, smiled and chatted in the next two years to come. We did not.

It is not with regret that I am saying this. I do not feel regret. I however feel affected by the amount of difficulty with which he must have said what he did. It is also possible that it was mere talk. Or manipulation. But I choose not to think of it that way. Whatever be the case, I realise now that I do not forgive easily...and that is one of my weaknesses.