[Making New Friends is an Old Impossible Task]
by YBLalat

A certain somebody told me that I have a very good ability of recollecting details from the past, especially of that which had crossed my path of life. The slightest details of clothing, the minute changes of facial expression and the most obscure dents in voice intonation are to name a few, she hinted. ‘But still you forgot my name’ she added in her email. I laughed shamelessly at myself. "You are observant of my most embarrassing flaw" I uttered under my slow breath.

I must admit that I was unaware of this notion until now. Thank you whoever you are for pointing this out. It scared me stiff at first, knowing that I could use particulars from the past to my advantage. I realize that I could utilize it to instill fear in rivals or nurture trust in friends or even dig up old secrets to harass my worst of enemies. Why am I bestowed with such a gift? There are reasons to this kindness of His, I lay my faith on, but let us not spoil the fun of not knowing.

When I sit and stare at the wall, my mind flashes back to past events that initially seemed not worth the reminiscing. Somehow, they all start to make sense at the end, giving birth to a new and learned version of me. Sometimes I would smile at the lessons learned and quickly forget but most of the time they would just haunt me all day long. The regret, the pain and the shame were amplified threefold or more.

I still remember how I was putting my shoes on, after performing my midday prayers at PPP ITM, when the sun suddenly quit shining and hid its face behind the tall, black flocks of cloud. I looked up at the then gloomy sky and saw somebody watching me, staring back at him, at the balcony. Being that he was a stranger, I ignored his observation over me and walked away, unintentionally joining the entourage of Nazri walking back towards our class. There were several others walking behind me but none of them were close enough for me to overhear their conversations. I was not that friendly to any of the members of the clique chattering in front of me; therefore, I ignored their presence and issues, as usual. I kept my head down and fixed my gaze low.

"Hi!"
"Hey."
"I met with Azli yesterday at the Pyramid. He said that the only way to make you talk is to bring up the topic of Kurt Cobain and his Nirvana."
"Azli?"
"Yeah."

I am not quite sure what her real name is, although she is also a PETRONAS scholar of the same batch, but those who know her well call her ‘Yep’ or something else phonetically similar to that quirky moniker. As of this moment, I can’t fully recall the topographic details of her face or how fair her skin was, probably because she wore a white tudung at the time and you know how I struggle with events concerning that.

The name she mentioned before sounded so distant from my memory. Was he a friend of hers I might know of? Maybe it was her significant other’s name. Wait a minute, I am not supposed to know that, am I? No, of course not. I am a non-existing part of the landscape to her life. Then, is that the name of one of my classmates? None of such similarity that I know of. Ah! Erly! Azli Nizam ‘The Kerbau’ Guzali!

It was awfully strange to hear his name (moreover his real name) again, especially at such a removed place as PPP and from the tongue of a girl I virtually know nothing off. What was he doing at the Pyramid? Soliciting his huge butt? Loitering for monkey love? That was a highly unusual fetish for a former head prefect of Mozac.

"Kurt Cobain and his Nirvana" he told her. What a sick joke! I guess he must have had me confused with his estranged dormitory mate, whose name is of great difficulty to forget, Azman Adnan. Kurt was a great musical figure in the 90’s scene and I respected him for his revivalist upheaval but his lyrics rarely deviated from that of a high drug addict choked on his own vomit. His suicide (or murder, to some loyalists) only publicized his misunderstood idiocy.

I let out an almost inaudible spasm of laughter as I moved my stare from her eyes towards the sight of my leather belt. Reacting upon such a display of withdrawal, she smirked at me a silly smirk and turned her face towards others. I never saw her again.

From that incident, the notion of a two-way chemistry in a friendship only became fortified further. The basis of getting to know and appreciate others lies not just within the common ground of interest between the two but more on the whispering instinct of a human spirit. It has since become my doctrine in dealing with people. You only get along with those who you feel you could and in some cases, even that is not enough to prolong the bond.