Chapter 7 : You are my new best friend!

"Here, let me show you," I gently take the pencil from the ten year old's hand and draw a nose on the side of her paper. "Draw the nose like this, what you drew is nice, but when you are drawing actual portraits, this is how it should be done, ok?" I ask.

The girl nods,"like this?" she asks copying my nose, but getting it slightly more curvier, than the subtle and gentle curves I used. "That's good, but keep practicing. I have a workbook on drawing body parts. If you want, you can take that home to practice," I tell the girl. She nods eagerly. I give her an encouraging pat on the back and move to the next child, inspecting everyones drawings and giving pointers.

There are two more children left to tend, when my phone vibrates in my jeans pocket. I take it out to see a text from Abhay. Yes, we finally exchanged numbers when I cooked him lunch a few days back. Surprisingly, he's a good text buddy.

In the last couple days, I got to know a lot about him, and vice versa. He is 29, turns 30 in a month. He and his family are from Karnataka, their mother tongue is Kannada. He comes from a middle class family. His father is a teacher and his mother a house wife. He has no other siblings except Aakash Sharma, his older brother, who works in an IT company, just like his wife of eight years, Aarti. They were married in a traditional arranged marriage setup. Abhay unfortunately has done nothing but study for the last ten years. And a lot other things.

"We still up for later?" the text reads. "Yup! Definitely!" I answer back. Today we are going to be working on that article for the magazine.

I stayed up late last night, doing a little research and making a list of the questions I want to ask Abhay.

~~~×~~~

Forty five minutes later, after all the kids have been picked up by their parents, the door to the activities room opens with a knock, just as I put the last color pencil set inside it's assigned drawer.

"Hi Dia!" the gentle and polite voice of Abhay Sharma greets my ear, as the man himself steps into the room.

"Hey there doctor, how has your day been so far?" I ask, gathering my stuff, ready to head out.

"It's been good, I got the lab schedule today with the timings I could use the lab to work on my research today," he says, sounding excited.

"Wow, that's great! What are you going to be working on?" I ask, as we walk out of the activities room.

"This may sound really bad, but I haven't decided yet. I have many ideas, I just haven't decided on one yet, but I'll be starting with the basics first, so it wouldn't be a waste if time or anything," he explains, as I lock the room.

After depositing the key with Ganesh at the lobby, we head outside, "hey, it's okay. You don't need to have everything figured out right now. Maybe this interview with me can help," I say, grinning as we come to a stop outside the activities building, facing each other.

"I hope so. I hope it helps the magazine and the people reading it, more," he says, like the kind guy he is.

I hold out my crossed fingers and shrug, "come on, let's sit by the fountain near N-block, it's both beautiful and strangely quiet there," I say and start walking towards the said location. A second later, Abhay's footsteps match my own as we stroll through the apartment community roads.

"So, I brought you something," I say, a few beats of comfortable silence later, and pull out the tupperware container.

"I did too," he says, reaching into the office bag strapped across his shoulder.

"I made baked samosas. I know they might not seem as appetizing as the oily greasy ones, but give mine a try once, and you'll only ever want for the baked ones," I boast, shaking the box a bit with a smug look.

"I have no doubt about that, but I have a feeling that you'll like what I brought you better," he says, immediately making me curious and eager. Seeing my increase in interest, he deliberately takes his hand out of his bag in a dramatic slow motion.

"Ugh! Show it already!" I whine. He just chuckles and pulls a pretty cardboard box out of his bag with 'Cakes Cakes' written on it.

"What's in it?" I ask, already brightening up. I just love baked goods, especially the sweet varieties.

"Well, I remember you mentioning you liked anything with blueberry in it, so I got you," he pauses, and slowly opens the box, showing me the two perfect, full blueberry muffins. My mouth immediately waters.

"Okay! It's official! You are my new best friend!" I say brightly, grabbing the box from him, and tucking it safely between my arms. He just laughs shaking his head. A smile I didn't realise stays on my face for the rest of the walk to the fountain.

Once we reach the peaceful place, we sit on a bench overlooking the fountain. I eagerly take out a muffin and immediately sink my teeth into the heavenly goodness. Between mouthful of bites, I notice Abhay silently savoring my samosas. I knew, he'd like that.

After we've finished stuffing our faces, I take out my notepad, switch on the voice recorder in my phone, ready to get this started.

"Shall we begin?" When I receive a nod, I sit straighter and go into professional mode. I want to take this article seriously and do it right. Sensing my seriousness, Abhay sits straighter himself. Then I begin. I ask him about the importance of mental health, current situation and statistics on how much care our citizens are putting into their meant health. On why the matter of ones mental well being always takes a back seat. On popular misconceptions, on proper guidance, on how to show proper support, and I ask many more questions.

Abhay answers each one of them with a passion and sincerity that it makes me respect him ever more than I already do.

"One last question Dr. Sharma. Why Neuroscience and Mental Health? Why not cardiology or Orthopedics?" I ask, eager to know the answer to the question as both an interviewer as well as a friend.

He hesitates for a brief second before saying, " Well, I've witnessed many cases of mentally ill people being disregarded as spoilt or stubborn or simply shy. Even as a kid I always wondered that there should be more to it. Nobody wants to be called a freak just for the fun of it. People often feel ashamed to admit that they might be sick and need help, even the family members don't like to believe their loved ones to be mentally sick. I just wanted to help such people in any small way I can," he says with a sad smile.

I give him a nod, "that will be all Dr. Sharma. Thank you for all the information you have shared with me," I conclude with a smile. I see him relax from my periphery as I put aside my notepad and switch off the voice recorder.

We sit in silence for a few more minutes, both trying to absorb the heavy interview we just had. Abhay answered every question wonderfully, though I can't help but feel like there was more to the last answer, something more personal.

I hesitate for a second, before gently placing a hand on his shoulder, so as not to startle him from his deep thoughts. He comes out of his trance, and raises a brow in question.

"I know you answered all my questions, but I'm asking you as a friend rather than a writer. There is more to why you chose mental health than what you said, isn't there?" I ask gently and hesitantly, not wanting to cross any boundaries.

He is silent for a few more moments, and I begin to doubt asking him the question. Maybe it's too personal, maybe I seemed too pushy.. and before more maybes could flood my mind, he speaks," Yes, there is."

He sits back in his chair, subconsciously getting comfortable, to open his thoughts to me. I mimic his posture, ready to lend a ear.

"I grew up in a small town in Karnataka. We used to live in this small old style home. It was pretty cute, with huge front and back yards, red clay tile slope roof. It was charming. When I was 7 years old, a family moved next door. It was comparatively a smaller home, with no yards, unfortunately. It was a family of three, a father, a mother and to my childhood self's delight, a six year old daughter. I was so happy to learn that she was my age, and we could play together, I immediately rushed over and befriended her. You see, Aakash is five years elder to me and by that point he no longer wanted to play with me," he says, his eyes holding a far away look.

"Her name is Sunanda. She was equally happy to get a new friend. We were inseparable since then, we used to play in my backyard all day during summers. We went to the same school, studied together, played together, she became my best and only real friend. As we grew up, I for some reason, maybe the lack of other friends, became a little shy and quiet, where as, she was always so vibrant and active," he pauses as a sad smile grew on his face.

"As we became older, people started questioning our closeness. You see, a boy and a girl were not allowed to be so close back then, though we basically grew up together. Her parents started restricting her, my parents started warning me to keep my distance, despite it all we stayed as close as we possibly could. We never had any romantic feelings towards each other, she was like a little sister to me, but people just simply didn't understand,"

"After the completion of schooling, we unfortunately had to part ways, I went to Banglore to study medicine, while she went to a local college for a basic degree. She had big dreams too, but her parents could neither afford to send her to city, nor wanted to. I tried to keep in touch with my rarely working keypad phone and the occasional mails, but it was just hard, with her parents so adamant in keeping us apart,"

"I was in my third year, when I got her wedding invitation. He was from a very conservative family. So naturally he didn't like me or our dwindling friendship one bit. That was one more obstacle to our friendship. I was in my fourth year, when I heard her pregnancy news. I was in my final year when I got an unexpected call from her, you see, by that point our conversations were non existent, so I was a little surprised at her request to meet her. The desperation in her voice worried me,"

He lets out a sad sigh, "When we met up, she looked like a wreck. She had already given birth, and she was suffering from postpartum depression, and her husband, in-laws, and even her parents just didn't understand her. Their constant disapproval of her moody state just added to her depression. She was so brave you know. She was smart and brave, to know what was happening to her, and to come looking for help. She didn't know who else to turn to. So, I told her all I knew about her condition, suggested few good therapists I read about, and offered to talk to her husband and explain the condition to him. She was so helpless at that point that he accepted my help readily, she just needed one person to rely on, so I took her back to her home," He says, his mood going from sad to somber, with underlying hints of anger. I could already imagine what would've gone down there.

"When I tried to talk to her husband, things just got worse. Instead of listening to me, he started accusing me and Sunanda of shameful things. Called both of us names, just straight out threw me out of his house," he says and then his face turns from angry to remorseful.

"I tried calling her, I tried calling her parents, I asked around, I even went to her home with no luck. They had moved her away, changed all numbers and nobody could tell me where she was, how she was. I eventually gave up. It still bothers me that I gave up, but I was helpless, every direction was a dead end and I couldn't afford to spend anymore time away from my studies," he explains, his expression troubled, " So, choosing to study in mental health is my way of making it up to her," He finally says with a sigh, emotions weighing him down.

I let him to his thoughts for a few seconds, before speaking, "You are a good friend. I'm sure she appreciates every thing you've done for her. Don't beat yourself up for something beyond you. I'm sure she is proud of you. If I were in her shoes, I'd be proud of you," I say, meaning every word. She truly was a good friend and I'm glad he is my friend now.

"Thanks, I appreciate that," he gives me a small smile. Silence laps around us again. The sun has completely gone down by this point, the streetlights have been switched on, the fountain illuminated by the lights reflecting off the spraying water. The gentle sound of water cascading carried by the wind. It was a pleasant evening.

"You know, you remind me of her in some ways, then again, you are a person of your own. Unique and full of life," he says giving me a charming smile, breaking the silence and lifting some of the somber mood.

"Oh really," I smile back, "you know, you don't need to flatter me, I'll feed you my delicious food regardless," I joke as a diversion, not wanting to dwell on the compliment he gave me, which strangely is making me feel incredibly flustered.

He let's out a carefree laugh, the heaviness completely lifting off the air. " Oh, thank god, wouldn't want to miss out on the food now," he teases back.

Just then, a brilliant idea pops in my mind. "Speaking of food, my friends, the ones I told you about, meet up every friday to eat and hangout. You wanna join us tomorrow, if you aren't busy, that is?" I ask, giving him a hopeful look, excited for him to meet the rest of my friends. I'm sure he'll be welcomed with open arms.

"I'm not busy, but do you thinks it's a good idea? I won't be intruding?" he asks doubtful.

"Yes, it's a great idea. you definitely won't be intruding. We invite people to tag along all the time, some even became a part of the gang that way," I assure him.

"Okay then, lets do it," he agrees giving me a nod.

"Great! I'll text you the details," I say already excited for tomorrow.

When I look at the time on my phone reading 8:30 pm, "It's getting late, let's get home" I say, getting up, gathering my stuff.

He too stands up, stuffing his hands into his pockets. When we start walking back towards the entrance, I remember something, "Hey, you decided on a place to rent yet?" I ask walking sideways, facing him.

"I have," he replies with a smirk, "neighbour," he adds the word, surprising me. A feeling of excitement builds in my stomach.

"Really? Which flat," I ask, a lightness to my step.

"The one on the tenth floor," he says, a hint of excitement in his own voice.

"Wow, that's great!" I say giving him a bright smile, which he reciprocates right back. It really is great! How cool would it be to have such a good friend as neighbour! I can't wait!