A Tribute To a Friend, A Rock Star!
By: Zaithoon Bin Ahamed
Tags: Memories, Love Letters, Birthday, Sisters, Friendship

Notes from the ‘90s!

If she was here right now, today would have possibly been the best-ever virtual birthday party there ever was and ever will be. Everyone who knew her, would wholeheartedly agree. Her life was like a disco party with no commas or full stops!

A couple of weeks ago, I received a barrage of text messages from my late friend Marlene’s husband, Gayshan. He and their 7-year old daughter, Araliya, were spending this time in lockdown to dejunk and clear out boxes that had been lying around for sometime. One of the sealed boxes contained heaps of handwritten, discolored notes, cards, letters, and poems I had sent to Marlene during our school days. He sent me multiple screenshots of some of the scribbles that Marlene had carefully stored away. She was a hoarder and collector of junk, something I always pointed out to her because I was known as the compulsive destroyer of trash. I’m glad she saved these, because given the circumstances, this box has now become a treasure trove of memories (and secrets she should have destroyed years ago!). Losing someone very dear is hard. But it’s been almost 3 years since her passing that we were emotionally preparing for, months in advance, as we watched the virulent cancer take over and take away our beloved ‘drama queen’ of the gang.

As we silently celebrate her life on her 42nd birthday today, I couldn’t help reminisce some hilariously entertaining stories about out quirky and spunky ‘Marl,’ which always puts a smile on my face.

She always believed in personalized, handwritten notes and cards, hence why we spent a lot of time writing to each other and snail-posting them, even though we would spend weekends and school holidays together. But, of course, we had to all agree that she wrote the best letters and poems! :) As we grew older and embraced social media to keep in touch, Marl protested the use of Facebook and refused to get on board for no valid reason. After a few months of feeling ‘left out’ on all the social media buzz and gossip, she sneakily created a profile in her dog’s name and pretended to be ‘Singha’ (yes, that’s right), and always maintained that she was not on Facebook and will never be a social media junkie.

Her love for her friends goes beyond words. It’s a bond that was created in our pre-teens that no one could shake. When Gaysh shared the following with me, he said how Araliya had seen all the hearts and loving words and asked him “if aunty Zaithoon was ammi’s (mum) girlfriend?” She’s a smart kid. I will probably tell her all the juicy stories one day and explain how we didn’t have WhatsApp, Snapchat, Facebook, or Instagram to show love through a multitude of emojis and emoticons. They had to be told in person or written somewhere. And Marl made sure we conveyed them in whatever form.

Typos, spelling mistakes, bad punctuation — but words that have been treasured for years!

I cannot even begin to explain her voracious appetite for anything edible, particularly unhealthy snacks and junk food. Every time we met, even if it were traveling somewhere together, there was always something to munch on along the way — something unhealthy! She once went through a fitness phase and hired a personal trainer, who was close to giving up with all the questions and her inability to control her intake. He had told her there was no hope because “you eat like you’re having the last meal of your life.” During the early stages of cancer, she spent an almost full day in the hospital every 6–8 weeks or so for her chemo sessions, and we were invited to drop in and keep her company, on strict instructions we brought along her favorite food … and that list was fairly broad. The most hilarious story of them all was how she had once asked the ambulance taking her home from the hospital to stop abruptly — she had heard the clanking sounds of ‘kottu’ and immediately developed an appetite for egg roti and roast chicken. Poor hospital staff must have been perplexed. But she always made sure she got what she wanted … to eat!

And this is how to divert your attention from a chemo session

If there was one person we could blame for overconsumption of goods and ruining the planet in the process, well, she’s no more now. She had an uncanny ability to find the most useless gadgets and other stuff that looked cool, but were mere gimmicks wrapped in plastic. As a result, the kids loved her as she was always armed with surprises she would pull out of her handbag and wow everyone. She wouldn’t rest until she checked out every new retail store or mall that sprung up and was always drawn to the ‘fancy goods’ section of utterly useless things. A couple of our friends had the pleasure of accompanying her in her wheelchair during the latter stages of her cancer to do some random shopping (again a detour of an ambulance journey) because she had seen some new ‘items’ in a particular store and had to purchase some ‘gifts.’

Marl’s bedroom in her Mt. Lavinia home, where we used to spend many weekends and holidays. This was taken just before she left to Australia for higher studies

Weekends doing nothing, literally on top of a tree!

One of many ‘girls’ trips — I think this was in Negombo, but can’t remember the year

Probably when we discovered ‘selfies’

And those are some ‘shareable’ stories and a few pictures I found in old albums, my treasured memories of our rock-star friend who left us far too soon.

In the end, it’s not how long you lived that’s important. It’s how well you lived — a wholesome life doing everything you love and touching many people in numerous, special ways. It’s how you will be remembered that matters.

Marl, we miss your wicked sense of humor, opinions, strong-willed stubbornness, bizarre theories, and your own twists to all tales based on your rather strange conclusions.

Happy birthday you nutcase!

“If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.” — Kahlil Gibran