Reunion in Death!

Sneha stumble into her bedroom almost feebly, and look at the power and presence within her. It is a paradox — it seems that suddenly the darkness in her memory and the Faith in her intellect join forces and let her stand in the door way of Will. Faith beckons her to do rather than rest in darkness — to accomplish rather than question why.. as she slowly lifts the receiver to her ear.

It's cold. Her hand, poised over the keypad, hesitates. What is the number? She puts the phone on its hook and searches for the paper with Shreya's number on it. She knows the number. She memorized it yesterday, when she finally called information to get it. It took a while for the operator to find it.

Shreya moved since the last time Sneha spoke to her. Not surprising, it's been seventeen

years.

Seventeen years -- a lifetime ago. Certainly, nothing is the same. Most definitely not

Sneha. Seventeen years ago she was young and beautiful -- and in love. Hopelessly in

love. Now, married and two children later, she's just taking it one day at a time.

Biting her lip, Sneha perches on the end of the bed, her hand once again hovering over

the phone on the table in front of her. Ever since she heard that Shreya's son, Mathan, died

in a car accident, the same thoughts keep running through her mind. "Will Shreya even

remember me? We were best friends for ten years. How could she forget? The real

question is -- would she rather forget. Will she even talk to me? Has enough time lapsed

to heal the wounds? Has Shreya ever forgiven me?"

Looking back, Sneha could see that it was all blown out of proportion at the time. After

all nothing really ever happened. But Shreya never believed that. At least not that she ever

told Sneha.

It took a few months, after that blowout scene between them at the restaurant, for

Sneha to put the hurt behind her and move on. A year later, she got married and

regretted that Shreya was not there to be her bridesmaid. Shreya never knew she had a

namesake -- Sneha's first daughter, little Rani, who died at six months old, from SIDS.

"Thank God, for Latha. I thought the world ended when little Rani died. Latha is my pride

and joy, my reason for living, but little Rani is never far from my thoughts or my heart."

Now, Sneha's heard that Shreya has lost her son, too. Sneha's sister told her three days

ago. She read about it in the local paper last week. "Oh Shreya , I wish I were there for

you now. I want you to know that I know what you're going through. I want you to know

that you're not alone."

For the umpteenth time in three days, Sneha remembers the pain of losing a child.

Drying her eyes, her hands trembling, she picks up the phone and dials the number. A

sad, yet familiar voice answers on the third ring, "Hello."

"Hello, Shreya?"