My little friend Marc

As write this, I am traveling back to Pune on the plane from Chennai. I’ve been thinking back to the conversation with Guru – meeting him after 15 years was the most incredible feeling – and reflecting how some of the things I said were only half the truth.

Yes, I am happy to be back in India and for these opportunities to meet good, old friends after so many years and to find that the same kind of comfort exists between us.

But then, as I also looked back in my mind at the people who made up my life in France, a memory popped up in my mind of Marc, the younger brother of Emmeline who was Indira’s best friend at school.

Marc is a year younger than Noor, and I liked to think that we shared some mysterious cosmic connection. He and I took to each other soon after we met when he and Emmeline joined the Trois Collines school when he was 4. For the longest time,  every day when they all came out of school, he hopped once as he spotted me – with pleasure evident on his face – and then called out to me in the most excited voice, “Indiiira !!!” Ingrid, their mother, would tell him every once in a while that I was Chandna, not Indira, but he continued to call me Indira until just a few months before we left, and I thought it was just the most adorable confusion.

Little memories like that make me tearful for everyone that  I’ve left behind who gave me so much affection and took me easily in to their lives….

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