You And I Let’s Become Friends

You And I Let’s Become Friends

4 mins
368


I wonder where you could find the best conversations coming from two individuals. Whether at a coffee table or at some silent bar or just an evening walk along the public park? I usually hunt for such talks over coffee with friends.

Not always you are accompanied by someone with your coffee, and it was one of those silent table moments where the warmth of the coffee mug between the palms fills up the void of a companion. Even the empty chair is usually lent to the other table in need. But somehow today it has no taker yet.

Then suddenly I see a soul approaching my table. I presume it’s for the chair to be traded. But to my surprise, he asks for sharing the table with me. My eyes turn wide open cause I have never encountered such thing before. I point towards the chair foolishly to this guy who has bombed into my table and to be frank talking to strangers is not my thing at all.


An awkward silence sets in for a moment before we break into a half-hearted smile to acknowledge one’s presence. I’m thinking in my head it's possibly happening because there’s no table empty around but my sight calls it for fraud since there are tables lying vacant. This is totally weird!

As our nonverbal dialect finally breaks into words I get to know he is aware that I come here regularly. Curiosity kicks in to understand what I’m really getting into. I immediately ordered a coffee for him, but he politely declines it for his love for tea. Great! shouts my mind, at least an argument over tea vs coffee will easily set us up for a talk over the table. Before I get into say, my mind skips it and I end up asking his name. He says, “My name is Father”. “Father? What a strange name! What does it mean?” I ask. He replies, “I don’t know, I’m trying to figure it out.” A guy with an interesting name would have some interesting story to tell. I pop up the question, “So what’s your story?”.


As the last sip of coffee gulps down my throat, his incredible story comes to an end. I take a deep breath to settle down the lump in my throat and gather myself. And the moment that follows meets with a deafening silence which was much more significant than the noise of words. His story was so like mine, I almost felt like it’s my story and only his words.

I get to know Father was born on the exact same day as mine, I wonder how such details could even match. I know like every other child I came crying into this world, likewise even he did shed tears on that day. He said “In the initial months, everything was new and first-hand inexperience. You don’t know what’s going on.” I assume I must have felt the same too. Then arrived the playful years of life. Buying new toys, enjoying funny faces and mimics. He would play with those inanimate toys all day with sheer excitement and get sad if any toy gets broken just like me. Fun fact – even he used to hate homework but would certainly be sitting with the books the night before exams. And finally, as you hit the adolescent age, life started to taste sour lemons. Suddenly he felt like people are not getting what he’s trying to say. Opinions were usually found to be perceived aggressively which lead to bitter arguments. Due to the lack of common interests, communication reduces to an extent where you feel like being ignored for everything. You feel deceived by the idea of love and end up hurting yourself. Life brings you to a point, was just expressing yourself becomes a Herculean task. The struggle becomes painful and leaves you crippled from within, but you can’t help it. And this is when you beg life for at least one person who could get it what it’s like to be me because everyone around has failed to understand. Probably that’s how he ended up at this table to sort of find a way to ease out his pain and make things bearable.

The sigh of despair could sum up everything he wanted to say but couldn’t say it. My empathy for this soul couldn’t hold up to myself and got immediately reflected through my eyes. He tapped me over my shoulder looking at the watery eyes and tried to cheer me up.


He asked me for my name. “Son,” I said.

The name clearly amused him and here followed the question “What does it mean?”.

I said,” I’m too trying to figure it out.”. The two of us instantly break into this whole-hearted laughter.

Today’s table has witnessed the best conversation ever between two very identical life stories. And how better could this end with –

Father and Son becoming friends.


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