The One Who Got Left Behind

 

I am Shilpa, and I feel miserable.

It has been two days since I came to the United States to join my husband who had come here around six months ago.

I have a job here in the overseas branch of my company in India. My husband has rented a house in a cozy residential colony with lots of houses beside me, all having neatly manicured lawns and beautiful front porches. The neighbors seem friendly enough and have already welcomed me with home-made delicacies.

I couldn’t ask for a better life. And yet, I feel miserable.

All because I forgot to bring Marcel with me.

I was in my tenth standard and was suffering from anxiety. To help soothe my nerves, my father brought a stuffed monkey for me. I remember acting embarrassed when he gifted the monkey to me with a flourish. But secretly, I was delighted.

The monkey was black and white in color, and having started watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S, I named him Marcel after the character in the sitcom. Soon, Marcel became an inseparable part of my life. He sat beside me when I studied late nights and early mornings. He became my confidante when I developed my first crush on a boy and secretly confided to Marcel about him. He heard me rant about the never-ending studies and the silly fights I had with my friends. My friends often teased me, saying that it was uncool and unhealthy for a 14-year old to talk to a stuffed toy.

But Marcel was not just a stuffed toy for me. He was my emotional support. I slept better when I hugged him. I felt better after confiding my secrets, worries and anxieties to him.

Marcel was my best and sweetest friend, and I had just left him at my maternal home, thousands of miles away.

I was going to pack him in my suitcase. But since it was my last night at my home, I wanted his presence beside me while sleeping. I still carried conversations with him. I still clung to him for emotional support. And he had supported me that night by lying beside me on my pillow.

But then the morning had dawned, I had woken up late, my entire household was in chaos. I hurried through my chores and before I knew it, I had left my house and Marcel behind.

Now, as I sit by the lawn in the backside of my house, I feel a deep sense of having betrayed Marcel and acting all thankless by leaving him behind as I moved forward in my new journey. I feel my eyes well up.

I do what I always did whenever I missed someone. I start writing a letter to Marcel, foolishly hoping that my sentiments would reach him somehow across thousands of miles.

Dear Marcel,

I am sorry that I left you behind. I didn’t intend to. You know that. You also know how you got left behind on that chaotic morning I left home.

Marcel, I can never find enough words to express what you did for me. You helped me through my anxiety. You listened to me when I wanted to talk. You became my sole confidante, someone who never judged me for anything I said or did. You were my best friend and my morale support. You stood beside me through all the difficult times and the celebratory moments.

Now I find myself in a strange land surrounded by unfamiliar people and a new culture. That is not the distressing part. You aren’t there beside me to get me through this. I do not know how I am going to manage without you.

Someday I hope to return to my home. It may not happen soon, but I will return. And this time, I will bring you with me. It is only this hope that is carrying me through every day.

Thank you for everything that you did for me. I miss you.

I wipe my tears and keep my notepad aside. As I gaze over the lawn, my attention is driven to a movement in a tree. I focus on the tree and to my surprise, I find a monkey – a monkey with skin in the hues of black and white. The monkey jumps from one branch to another, looks at me, gives me a cheery wave and burrows inside the tree, disappearing from my sight.

I laugh in delight. Something tells me that my letter has reached Marcel and even from afar, he is finding a way to comfort me.