Our story of friendship is different. In this era where technologies exist everywhere, rule every soul, we were different. We did not do chitchat on messengers neither on viber or whatsapp .We sat in the same class, He at the third bench and I at the second but of opposite directions. He on the left and I on the right. We gossiped like normal people in the Tiffin time, discussed about different affairs. We were of 6 friends in total. But I and He were different.
The beginning of grade 12 wrote a new story on the pages of the life. I met him n he was so friendly and frank. Our talks increased day by day. We talked for hours about literature and a few of our articles. He would listen to my sorrows and happiness n would come the next day with a poem that has the words of encouragement and words that praise my patience and innocence. He was different. Then we started exchanging messages via papers. Instead of writing biology notes, we would write notes for each other and exchange them. Every day routine was to read the note given by him and write the reply. We could have just talked about it because we met regularly in college. But, No! I said before, he was different. And no doubt I liked this way of interacting. Pen is the most beautiful way to deliver the feelings and emotions.
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I remember how I used to lengthen one point just to give it a proper meaning and shape just to let him know what exactly I am trying to say, and same was with him. by flow of time the volume of paper increased ,the words started to be unlimited .Unlimited because the session was about to end. The grade 12 was on the edge of finish line. Only one year of friendship. And that too, so special thatwe were not ready to depart. He had showed me his clear bag once upon a time; it was full of my paper messages. He had said then "I will always save them and read them whenever I will miss you"
It was the last day, when he gave our relation a name. He said that it should be different. People should know us by a particular unique name .I looked at him waiting what name is he going to give to whatever is between us. "Friendastic"! And I said 'hun! And what did that mean?
He replied, “Fantastic means the best version or a kind of. So friend-dastic means the best form of friendship"
I was amused yet it made me laugh!
And then this was it. We friendastic people! It’s been three years now and he is not in Kathmandu any more, yet whenever he comes he brings a paper full of words with him. Whenever he leaves he places a piece of paper in my palm. He wants the name"friendastic" should keep its identity and our friendship to glow forever at whatever situation or time.
I am glad to get a FRIENDASTIC friend like him.
