I knew her when I was a child. We lived in the same building, separate wings. I would go to her home often. My love for Christmas began here. I used to love the tree her sister, Astrid, had sent in from abroad. It was white and I remembered thinking it was the most beautiful thing I had seen, one December afternoon, nearly forty years ago.
She was a friend who I could be comfortable with, talk to and generally chill out with. I heard the latest songs from the west at her home. I was introduced to George Michael, Boney M, ABBA, Jim Reeves at her home. She had a host of siblings who also became friends. I remember the lovely food at her home. The games we played each evening in our compound. The stories we shared.
When we left Bandra in ’87, we lost touch. We grew up and apart. It’s sad how life can take you down different corners. Looking back, we reconnected through Christina. And I had a chance of meeting both Christina and Virgi, two years ago. We shared memories and it was a lovely few hours spent together, reminiscing and thinking of our collective childhoods. It was a time that was filled with such beautiful memory and innocence. Libraries, books, trips, common friends, music, Christmas.
I heard about her death when I woke up today. It’s a dark day. But for us who are left behind. I am sure she is happy wherever she is now. She shall always be remembered by me as one of my first friends – who took me just as I was and am. Rest in peace, Virgi.
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