It has been exactly five years and two months that I have been in my friend- my saathi’s life. I’ve been beside her through the thick and thin; her travel adventures, her winter classes, her hiking/trekking, her not-so frequent gym visits. To sum it off, I have been at her side through all the escapades she sought in her life. These five good years of companionship, and as I am nearing my end, my saathi decides to christen me. Ok! There you have it, I’ve been finally named “The old faithful.” I rest assured that it suits me perfectly. I’m five years old and I’ve been there for her, days- in and days- out. – Old yet kicking. Voila! No coincidence out there eh? Anyway, my friend who tells me, I am her best non-Homo sapien buddy introduced me to her life with a meager $20. Ironic, but I am told, I am of more value than those bloody $20- a bargain price she tells me. Sometimes, I am glad I was just paid but those bloody two sets of diez dolares. That’s $10 for you English speaking mono or bi-linguists. If it weren’t for that $20 bill I wouldn’t have experienced half the world that she ventured out on. Reality check here- “the world” here, is just her little world which comprised of her ritualistic summer vacations since 2002, a trip to Nepal and India and countless other minuscule trips hither and thither. If she has to pay anything over $20, she hardly lets that solidarity take its root. She tells me I am the most beautiful among my siblings—no she hasn’t adopted whole lot of us, few of my formal siblings and a bunch of my distant cousins—the flip-flops. Just last year she decided I needed a company and I got a little sister. No, she never asked me if I was ok with that. My little sister in beige is petite and looks a little blanch. We hardly share the same physical attributes- she looks all right. You see, my friend hasn’t developed a liking for her; so she sits there adorning her little shoebox. I pity my sister as she’s missing out on the world, you know- how life has so much to offer and whatever time you have is never enough. I don’t want to sound immodest or pompous, but I have to admit I am physically blessed. What a blissful day it might have been, when my designer decided upon my current features. I am neither white nor blue, but a combination of both the colors. And I adore that about myself. If I were white I would have ended up abhorring myself as white siblings of mine accumulate all the attention. The imbecile, spotlight hogers. Had I been just blue I would burry myself in a self made coffin of my friend’s tiny shoebox. My saathi tells me I have the best complexion. Color in your vernacular. And I am also told, I am super comfortable-she could practically spend years in an isolated island with me-solely her and me. She feels at home with me. I guess it is because of this that she likes to drag me to every place she goes. Rain or shine. I tell you, it can get a little vexing at times, but I love to show-off my ribs in blue, and two stripes in glazing colorless color (I am not even sure what color that is). But they give me that boost of confidence everywhere I go with my saathi. I look so stylish with them, especially in the pictures that my friend takes with me. I stand out proudly with my two stripes in left and right corners of my two frontal and rear sides. They are like how you, Homo sapiens have dimples on your cheeks—the only difference—I have my two sets on the same side like a couple deeply in love. My dimples are messed up, I tell you that. She-my saathi, sometimes jokingly calls me “jhilke” cause of my gaudy dimples. I adore that, as that’s the cutest name anybody could bequest me with. Every now and then, my saathi likes to give me that thirty-minute wash. A scrub here, a scrub there; a splash here, a splash there- it comes to an end with a quick wring. As I breathe fresh air into my system, and as the sun’s ray’s pierce through my blue ribs and gaudy dimples, I am back on business. Out in the wild, seeking for more adventures along with my best friend. If it weren’t for the ruthless American winter days, our comradeship wouldn’t have evolved into what it is now. Flip-flops or sandals are what she fancies, she keeps telling me teasingly. I dread those days when she nonchalantly would dump me into the washer and then dryer afterwards. She lost my distant cousin, her hiking sandals, on one of her drying cycles. I presume it is because of that she chooses to bathe me. Now, we have our moments together when she’s scrubbing the soot, dirt and grime off of me. I know she’s, sometimes, thinking about giving me the best farewell and I silently tell her “don’t let go off me until I am of no use to you.” And she, as always can read my mind and silences me by her usual “friends live forever..may be not physically but in memories for sure.”