Best Friends...

I live in an old neighbourhood. Houses have been around longer than I have been alive, so yeah, its pretty old. In this pretty old neightbourhood, there are friends. Best friends. Forged through the years of familiarity and proximity. I want to talk about a couple of them. Firstly M. He is best friends with R. Every evening for the past 6 years or so, come rain or shine, he comes over to R’s place to play. It’s really heart warming to see them together. They play, and laugh and have a ball of a time. Some days, R waits patiently in the garden for M. He doesn’t move a muscle. Perhaps a lazy look at you when you call. But there he sits, rock still, head held high in waiting. Then, as always, M shows up. The change in R is remarkable. He breaks out into a goofy grin and suddenly every muscle in his body moves, in glee. There are times M stays on till nightfall. Those nights, R’s mom will patiently walk M home, holding R in one hand, M in the other. It’s a lovely, lovely sight. Secondly, C. He is best friends with P. Both generously blessed with beauty. Everyday, and I mean everyday, and at all times of the day, C and P can be seen together. Whether strolling around in the gardens or sitting on a wall, they’re always, always together. Talking, singing, eating and generally, just hanging out. It’s hard not to smile seeing them together. M & R are Man-Man and Rusty. 2 neighbourhood dogs, living 5 houses apart. Barred by closed gates and leashes. C & P are Chicken and Pheasant. Two different species of fowl, which would never have met in the wild, living together, beautiful plumage and all, 2 doors away from me. Their stories got me thinking. Do humans love their best friends the same way? With such fierce loyalty and devotion, and with such easygoing comfort of presence? I then started to keep an eye out for a human instance of best friend-ship around the neighbourhood. I found none. Sure we are a friendly neighbourhood. We hand out and receive cakes and cookies, generously give and receive the bounty of fruiting mango, rambutan and papaya trees. We cook just a little bit extra to hand over the Mr. X’s daughter, who will be home alone today. That sort of thing. But are we truly, and really best friends? Or even good friends? If not for a neighbourhood rukun-tetangga issue (another post for another day) I wouldn’t even have known that the family in house No. 3 have moved in for 10 years! To me, they’re “new-comers”. Or that the family in house No. 7 are second-generation dwellers in the house, with 3 young boys. I wouldn’t have known all of their names, contact details, or even what they do. Such an unforgivable fact. Since I’ve lived in my neighbourhood, literally, all my life. And thinking about it, I have an aging parent, living at home. The closest form of help when I’m away, is literally, right next door. They may not be doctors or firemen, but they are several pairs of trusted responsible adult hands who will be there to help in your hour of need. And really, what could be more precious than your home and the people in it? Tsk tsk on me. It’s a fairly large neighbourhood. I still have many many neighbours to get to know, and to let know that I exist. I am here. Call me if you need help. Your home is just literally steps away. I CAN HELP. And from recent experience, it really isn’t hard to be friends with your neighbours. They get irritated by that same crazy chicken (yes, I’m talking about you, C) who crows and coos at random hours of the morning (think 2.48am) and they get to enjoy the canine chorus in G major EVERYTIME the old-newspaper truck comes along, tooting his song. And you would have seen each other, almost every day. You use the same slip roads to get to and from home, you wait at the same traffic lights. You shop at the same “Thamby’s Shop” for bread or last minute potatoes (while chicken simmers in curry broth at home). You KNOW them, but DON’T know them. Sad isn’t it? Perhaps it’s about time we take a page from scruffy little Man-Man (a little terrier whose eyes are always hidden, standing about 12 inches tall) and Rusty (a rescued majestic thick-barrelled mix breed with abandonment issues) and Chicken (who *hint hint* needs an alarm clock, pronto!) and a Pheasant (the coolest and prettiest chick in the neighbourhood) and make best friends of those around us. .