Colors of the Reconciliation

 

When I was in a primary school, I used to walk to and from school. There was a girl a bit elder than me who lived on my street and one day, she walked on the opposite side of the street and made fun of me until I was in tears. I have learned since, that she needs more love than I do.

She used to mock me every day. The child psychology inside me opinionated her as a calcitrent child. She had red screen color, therefore as a reciprocal act, I started calling her black beauty. She was anxious concerning the word and complained about it to my mother. My mother punished me in front of the girl with no mercy, for whatever the girl blowes my mother's ear. Many prattling questions bounced on my nerves regarding the allegations and punishment. In fact, I was punished for nothing. I wept for more than an hour.

 After few days one of my friend shared a similar story about the girl. I was determined to defeat her in silence, I decided to keep some distance. She tried her best to portray me as a loser in each and every possible manner whereas my goal was not to utter a single word against her on purpose to avoid the conflict. I was raised in a constant fear of upsetting people. A year passed, we were not even in the term of speaking to each other.

On the day of Fagu Furnima( A Nepali festival that falls under the day of full moon), I was rearing buffalo along the street in my village. She came with the resplendent smile on her face and said " Let bygones be bygones Anil. I promise not to fight from this day. We are all friends now. Happy Holi. " Her friend added " she often talks about you. I believe there is no problem her side". They put on different colors on my cheeks turn by turn. I had nothing to say. So, I just put some Abir and wished them happy holi with a gentle smile.

That was the day, I learned not to take any thing personal. The girl I used to hate initially, started greeting me with a face full of smile, started sharing chocolates and what ever she used to have in her pockets. She used to invite me to play with her. 'Kabbaddi, Chungi, Dhyak, were the games I learned from her. She used to protect me at the time of trouble. My path to the school was more secure than before. Out of the list of my parents, relatives ,siblings, and friends , I got someone to cherish my quiet features and emboldened the unspoken sides of me.

I have a dairy full of holi memoirs, among them this is the most aesthetic one for me. A conclusion to all of these retrospection,  we socialize through the process of continuous conflict, conciliation, imitations, values and attitudes. Handling them is a matter of choice. I am thankful to my mother for her school of thoughts, the way she raised me. Her schooling brought up me with a huge resurgence of interest in friendship realizing the mightiness of patience, forgiveness, goodwill and the power of sincere apology .