It was the 10^th grade biology class, at Pakistan College, Oman. As usual, I was talking and not paying much attention. As a punishment the teacher made me sit among ‘girls’, as all the boys and girls sat together, on each side of the class. I started talking to a girl about how boring and useless biology is. She agreed and soon, we were friends. Thus, that punishment became the most pleasant experience of my life. For on that fortunate day, I met my Golden Star.

She always sat at the back. She did not have many friends. When I later asked my friend about her, he said, "Oh, she is crazy!" I remember he told me that once she got neurotic and her elder sister was called to calm her down. People usually avoided her because she would get on their nerves. You would only talk to her when you needed to, otherwise you’d get a lecture. She only had one friend at school. The rest were good acquaintances. Why would anyone like to befriend such a crazy character? I did because we had so much in common. We both read detective novels by Ishtiaq Ahmed, a popular Pakistani writer. Music was our expression of passion. We were in our teens, discovering life, friendship and family. However, there was something a bit more important.

As a teenager, the most important thing I had discovered during those days was that although everyone is different, only some are unique. I wanted to be unique. I wanted to stand out in a crowd. She certainly was different and unique. That was my conscious motivation for becoming her friend.

She was a good-looking girl. She came from a loving family of two elder sisters and a younger brother and sister. She was a tense and nervous individual when I met her. She had a hard time expressing her feelings. The most vivid feature I remember about her is her long, brown and silky hair. She was a princess whenever she wore a hair band and let her hair fly, instead of tying it up in a ponytail. It was the envy of the whole class because no one had such long and beautiful hair. I always saw her in Shalwaar Kameez, the traditional Pakistani dress. She wore makeup and jewelry only on special occasions. She took her philosophy of life from Macbeth, "Life is … a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. (Act 5, Scene 3)"

She was slightly obnoxious towards strangers. Before I knew her well, I borrowed a novel from her. She gave me clear-cut, explicit instructions about how to take care of the novel.

"If there is as much as a scratch on the cover, I am going to kill you!" she insisted.

"Hey, its just a novel," I giggled.

"This is no laughing matter Mr. Faisal," she replied, pounding and crushing every word beneath her teeth. Thrashing the floor, she stormed out of the room. I still got the novel, though.

With the passage of time, our friendship flourished. Initially we helped each other with homework, and discussed our views about life, ideas of philosophy, and much much more. I had to gain her trust but I did not know how. Fate would help me with this in an amazing way.

It so happened that she had a trustworthy cousin in Pakistan. She told him about me. He told her not to trust me. She said she did. So they came up with an elaborate plan to test my trustworthiness. The devised scheme required she to play a drama with me, pretend not care about me, and let me down to see my reaction. They even wrote dialogues for her to rehearse. Played on the telephone, she forgot her lines during the drama and I found out that there was something fishy going on. Naturally, I was upset. She knew that and was worried. Therefore, instead of facing me and explaining everything, she wrote me one of the most beautiful letters in the world. In it, she apologized and told me the details of the drama. I still remember the last line of the letter, "I can bear to be displeased by anyone in the world but you." That was one of the most beautiful things anyone has ever said to me, in the short span of my teenage life that is. Suffice to say I forgave her and our friendship was back on course, just like the Titanic.

Before we became such good friends, I remember taking part in a science exhibition once and her exhibit was next to mine. Being uncomfortable around girls at that time and nervous about my exhibit, I did a few dance moves just to calm myself down. Although I do not recall exactly what she said, she disapproved of me dancing. Years later however, I was surprised when she praised me after I danced on the stage at a party. I felt uneasy at her response because I knew she did not like it. I think she said so only because she did not want to hurt my feelings. So to this day, I have not taken the stage again.

Our friendship progressed through many hardships. She saw the leader in me and taught me to stand up for my rights. Once, I wrote a novel, and asked her opinion about it. She honestly told me that it was not good enough. Before I met her, I did not have any principle, or a view about life. She had a definitive view of life; that we were sent for a reason, and it was our duty to find that reason. Through different experiences during our rocky friendship in high school, I learnt the true meaning of life from her. On one occasion, I received a hand made card from her. It was so beautiful that I had to give a similar one in return. So I sat down and thought about what the card should say and how I should make it. I played around with words and came up with the perfect thing. She was very happy to receive it. Thus, I discovered my creativity.

As I mentioned earlier, the Titanic was on course, but it came across an iceberg. Although I tried my best, I could not save the friendship and the Titanic sank. One day out of the blues, she suddenly ended the friendship. Being one of the two passengers, I was not going to idly stand by and let it sink. I tried to talk to her, to find out the reason. My efforts went in vain. I went as far as contacting her cousin in Pakistan and asking him to act as a mediator. That failed as well. Therefore, I planned an innovative scheme of my own.

My friend Hani was going to have her graduation party soon. I told her that I’d attend it if, and only if, she came. So Hani had to make sure she was coming. At the party, everyone was having fun and savoring the last moments of high-school life; all except me. I was looking for the right moment to approach her, but it just wasn’t there. So finally, after the cake was cut, she stepped out into the corridor. I gathered up my guts, spilled for 12 months, and confronted her. After small talk, I began by reminding her of her first letter to me. And then I asked the critical question, "So, now that we are about to part forever, would you please be kind enough to tell me why you ended our friendship?"

She gave me a million reasons, non-of which made sense. I knew her better than to break a friendship over such petty excuses. Finally, she came clean:

"It was because of people."

"People? Who?"

"People like them.." she pointed to the living room, where our class fellows were enjoying themselves.

"I don’t get it."

"Well, people talk."

"They always do and besides, we agreed not to make this an issue."

"It became one when someone made me realize that it matters."

"Who?"

"That’s not important. I am a girl, and you know the society we live in Faisal. As much as I hate to admit it, our society views our sacred friendship as something beyond acquaintance. And I am sorry, but at this stage, I can’t risk it, because I know this can hurt me in the future."

"Well, you could have told me that 12 months ago. You put me through a lot of agony for nothing!"

I was not bitter after that realization. I understood her predicament, but had she told me this when she ended the friendship, I would not have suffered as I had after we broke up. That was my only complaint.

I got news of her later through mutual friends. When I saw her a year after graduation, I was unsure about meeting her. Nevertheless, I went up to her anyway to say "hi". She was confident; the nervousness had disappeared. She was doing well.

In the walk of life, I made many friends, but non were like her. We shared many memories together: days of joy as well sorrow. There is one verse of my favorite song I would like to share with you:

Wherever you dwell, I’ll know you are mine, Dreams, though unrealized, still provide hope.

Aap jahan bhi rahain, aap hamaray to hain, Khwaab adhooray sahi, khwaab saharay to hain.