of Serendipity and Sonals

Sonals, Agarwal & Singh

The first time I set my eyes on her, she was dancing without a care in the world. I was to realize later that that’s her general way of being – without a care in the world.

I knew I was going to be the second Sonal in B204; but had no idea of the first. But Sonal the Agarwal believes in no pretence. She looked at me with undisguised apprehension, sizing me up and down and right and left with her big, curious eyes. She thought to herself, and later to me, that I would make a good flatmate who could clean and cook, since I had worn a sari that day.

That’s the thing about her. She can come to shattering conclusions, with such guileless good faith, that you can’t help but love her more. No wonder I dote on her. No wonder many others do.

Candid could be her middle name. There is no time lost between thoughts as they occur to her and as they come out from her. She tells me with a deadpan expression that I need to change my sandals from ‘aunty-like’ to something peppier. I try, and end up with pained calf muscles. She sees me being pestered by a religious fanatic to buy some Krishna gospel, and she shouts at him to leave me alone. Then she scolds me for being tolerant with idiots. Like a parent she advices me to get married, and like a friend she coxes me to imagine how much ‘fun’ it’s gonna be. She enquires into mine and her friends’ private lives with such detail and good intention that laughter overpowers awkwardness (she resembles my grandmother in that sense). She considers my obsession with reading, writing, cleaning, swimming as a respectable mental illness. She pronounces me to be ‘born to become a bahu’. She is ambitious, fearless, bold & original – qualities that endear her to everyone unafraid. And to reiterate what a friend said: for a girl in a profession including maths, she is incredibly hawt!

Patience and sophistication could never win her favours. Her fingers work like blitzkrieg on the excel sheet. She admits frank loathing for cooking, and tosses up great food within minutes. Her standard expressions include dramatic rounding of eyes, extra-dramatic movement of hands synced with the pitch of her voice, messing around with her hair, walking off with a swagger and laughing hysterically and noiselessly at the same time. She makes O sounds while consuming Lindt chocolates. She decides that girls in the house are gonna address each other as Baby because it’s so affectionately cool. She is thrilled driving a scooty on rainy Goa roads, with me on the pillion, and our other two flat mates on the bike ahead, so she screams with pleasure at every onlooker: girls like to swing, baby!

But make no mistake. Don’t confuse her carefreeness with carelessness. If ever you look around for help, you’ll see her there already working up a remedy.

So here’s to the Namkeen element of the house & my cherished chai partner on her 26^th: Please Be More of You. Each day of your Life.

Why? Because there’s no other that original.