F, for Forgotten. I belong to it. I know a lot of other friends who do, too. A cousin recently lamented over the same thing - being forgotten. You automatically get included in this generation as soon as you move out of the country, away from all friends and family.
My membership to this exclusive club began in September '99. At first I didn't realize what was going on. Dollar-to-Rupee conversion and vice-versa convinced me that the high rates for phone calls were the reason no one called. Then the rates began dropping. Now, it is a comfortable single digit number per minute. Easily affordable. Still no calls. Most times only email invitations for weddings make their way to us. Sometimes only the information of a wedding trickles back to us. We do get loads of calls on birthdays and anniversaries from loving family members. Sometimes friends too. And for those, we are thankful. Festivals, for some reason, are altogether different.
We try to call all friends and family members on festivals. That can take over a week as there are loads of calls to be made but only so many hours during which to make them, due to the time difference. And during those times, sometimes, a poignant realization hits me - we are the only ones making these calls!! It has been extra tough since my dad passed away. Festivals are now a reminder of the days when we used to get a call/email/ecard from him. I try to call my mom and brother the night before (morning of, their time) and on the morning of (evening of that day, their time) - because I know they must be missing him too. And I like to believe that my calls provide them some comfort. But come evening (my time) on the day of, I am left alone to celebrate the occasion and to miss him. It hurts the most on those times. But I am getting used to it. I know I will eventually get to a point where I will be able to give without expecting to receive. That is called growing up, isn't it?
