Fousiya burst out laughing.
I had just narrated to her my odd predicament of standing in a queue in the ration shop, with no immediate relief in sight.
"But what were you doing in the ration shop?", she asked.
"Buying ration. It started out as buying ration for our maid. We would use the raw rice to feed the birds. When my maid left, we started using the boiled rice. My mother likes this sort of rice to prepare flour."
Fousiya couldn't help laughing.
"Who had imagined that it would be such a long wait? I waited for my turn, and when it did come, the lorry from the warehouse arrived, and the impatient driver started unloading the gunny bags. The storekeeper stopped dispensing the rice and attended to him. We had to wait until all the bags were unloaded. The storekeeper has a strange system. He first feeds everybody's cards into the system, irrespective of how long the queue is. Only then, does he dispense the rice. So I had to wait again, and by the time I was home, I was in tears."
"I couldn't help dwelling on the sad irony of my life, Fousiya. I have spent my years in Kerala queueing up at different places, travelling in overcrowded buses in the oppressive heat, driving people to different destinations, balancing weight on my shoulders like a donkey, negotiating with people who are too thick-skinned to understand, and so much more. Somewhere in between, I have managed to squeeze in my reading, my writing, and everything else that is important to me. Was this the dream that I had hoped to live? "
"Just like you, I too laughed, thinking of my predicament. These are the sort of things that we can laugh at.... and well, cry at. I really didn't know whether to laugh or cry. What do you think, Fousiya?"
"I feel the same way about myself. I see people going to work, so sure of what they want, so sure of where they will be in the next couple of years. Their lives are in such order; there is nothing that is at the mercy of fate. All I want to do is to educate myself so that I can raise my son without worrying about being able to afford his education. But look at my plight- I am still struggling. I see all the nurses fly off to different countries across the world, and I wish there had been somebody to advise me when I was in school. We are both walking similar paths- we are deserving, but we are nowhere."
As an afterthought, she added, "These people do not know the value of what they have. When I was giving my exam, I met some of my batchmates who were far younger. They asked me why I was studying when I had a job. I could tell that given a choice, they would not have taken up this course, or any other course for that matter. All they wanted to do was take selfies, wile away time, and get done with the exam. Why would it matter to them? They neither have the curiosity to learn, nor a compelling reason to learn. But they are the ones who end up getting degrees and jobs, simply because they have people to invest on them. I have neither the time nor the money, and yet I am trying to study in my own way."
I sighed.
"Hope is a big thing. To tell you the truth, despite the fact that a part of me feels trapped in the web of my circumstances, another part of me is hopeful. There is still a part of me that believes that something really good awaits me. There is no logical basis to this belief, but my perceptions and experiences seed this feeling in me. Somehow, it is more fun to squeeze in the things you truly love in between the hardships and struggles of daily life- they become so precious. I feel so deprived of the things that I love that when I do get to indulge in them briefly, I immerse myself in them so deeply that something beautiful comes out of it."
We started on a miserable note, but as we spoke, we were back to our laughing selves in no time. With Fousiya, I can always laugh at my sorrows and heartaches. There is something so sincere and pure in our friendship that it washes away the assaults of life.
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