Muran 7 - Two peas in a pod
August 2011.
A crossover episode in my life—where two very different women walked in from two completely different directions.
It all started with the movie Magadheera. I loved the Golconda Fort scene and decided I had to see the place in real. That’s when the entire idea of a trip was born. I planted the seed, pitched it to my friends, and pushed everyone to join the trip. They threw around different location options, but I convinced everyone that Hyderabad was the perfect destination.
Most of the people were my schoolmates, and a few were friends of friends—people I had met before and was comfortable with. That’s when one "cashew nut" from our group casually announced that he was bringing a friend from his office. Train tickets were booked.
I was like, "It’s a week-long trip. Do we really need a stranger?" It was hard to make new friends as an adult. I was 25 (back then, when I thought being 25 was adulting, haha). Our group was a complete non-judgment zone, and I wasn’t sure if a new girl would fit in. Also, I had a long-standing aversion to “girly girls.” We already had Brinda for that, and she was more than enough. At that time, she was dating my best friend, which I definitely did NOT approve of (That's the story for another day ;-)).
I spoke to the cashew—demanded/requested/practically begged—that he drop the new girl from the plan.
“உனக்கு அவள கண்டிப்பா பிடிக்கும், trust me,” he said.
“அதெல்லாம் செட் ஆகாது,” I replied.
“Already avata solliten,” he said.
“ஏதாவது பேய் கதை சொல்லி தட்டி விடு,” I fumed.
“என்ன நம்பு. என்ன விட அவள உனக்கு பிடிச்சுடும்,” he insisted.
“Is she girly?” I asked.
“கண்டிப்பா இல்ல,” he promised.
He said I could meet her first, and if I said no, she wouldn’t come. And WHEN do I meet her? On the day of the trip itself. We were leaving that evening, and he planned to introduce her during lunch.
I was so pissed. At that point, there was no way to say no. He knew it too. He said, “Ne no solla matta vini.”
So there I was, waiting at the restaurant with my brother. Cashew was still parking the car. She didn’t even wait for him. She walked in confidently, scanned the restaurant, spotted me, came straight to me, and asked, “Are you Vini?”
Then she sat with us like she’d known us forever. No awkwardness. No forced niceness. No fake pleasantries. She grabbed the menu, looked at me, and said:
“Fish சாப்பிடுவியா டி? I’m going to order fish and rice, but I can’t finish it alone. We’ll share.”
My mind voice: “டி யா?”
She looked at my brother, and said “நீ prawns ஆர்டர் பண்ணுடா, நான் share பண்றேன்.”
I said, “நான் உன்னவிட பெரியவ.”
“அப்படியா? அதுக்கு உன்ன அக்கான்னு கூப்பிடணுமா டி?” She shot back.
I was taken aback; I didn't expect her to respond like that.
I laughed. Just like that—instant chemistry. Instant friendship.
She talked so much—we bonded so fast—that we literally missed the evening train. The rest of the friends waited for us. "I was looking at the train leave the platform helplessly," they said.
There was a bit of chaos when we missed the train—everyone was annoyed, except her. She was the calmest person in the group, completely unfazed. We ended up hiring a cab. No Google Maps. The driver too didn’t know the route. None of us knew the route. But somehow, we still reached.
And honestly? With her around, it didn’t even matter. She kept the entire group alive—cracking the darkest jokes at the most unexpected moments.
At one point, she looked at the three Vickys in our group and said, “I’ll call you Black Vicky, White Vicky, and Duck Vicky. That way, no confusion.”
If anyone else had said that, we would’ve been offended. But she had this magic—she could roast you, rename you, embarrass you… And you’d still end up laughing with her.
Karthik and I were engaged then. He joined us in Hyderabad, and somehow, he ended up hanging out with Roslin more than with me. My friends wouldn’t stop teasing, and Cashew even joked that Roslin had a reputation for crushing on married men. I was not jealous or angry at all.
The trip ended, but the spark of that unexpected friendship stayed with me. Little did I know, another woman, equally vibrant, was about to walk into my life that very same August, though through a completely different door: my engagement.
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That same August, I got engaged to my now-husband, Karthik, and he wanted me to meet his cousin sisters. He was in Mumbai at the time, so he asked me to go meet them by myself.
Two future sisters-in-law.
By Indian standards, even one is enough to keep you on your toes. I already had one—his sister—and suddenly I was about to collect two more. My stress levels rose instantly.
There was pressure because these were people who were going to be in my life forever, and I knew nothing about them. We met at a restaurant—Devi and Suja.
Devi was the quiet one… and Suja was the firecracker. The inhibition disappeared in the first ten minutes. Suja was a riot.
The more we hung out, the closer we became—honestly, closer than she ever was with her brother. Once, I even took Suja on my office trip to Goa. Everything was planned perfectly… then one week before the trip, Suja broke her ankle and was fully bandaged.
Did she back out? No. Why?
She heard my sad voice when she broke the news, and she came anyway.
My colleagues were so confused. Most people bring their spouse, kids, siblings, or parents on office trips. No one brings their in-laws.
But we were never the regular kind. We partied like mad. In the middle of the sea, during a fun dip, I drifted away from the boat. She—with her broken ankle—swam toward me, asked me to hold her other leg, and swam for both of us back to safety.
We danced the night away, gambled on the cruise till dawn, and at one point, she was holding my hair while I puked from overeating the buffet. By the end of the trip, the whole group knew her, and she became everyone's favorite.
Just last week, she hosted me and my friends for a girls’ night—not her friends, mine. She opened her home and treated them like her own people. That’s who she is. I would literally do anything for her.
They are different, yet somehow so similar. Just one lunch was enough to bond.
An entertainer. A no-nonsense friend. If they were in the room, they would talk; the rest of us would just sit around, waiting to be roasted, and laugh till our stomachs hurt.
No judgments. No limits. It’s easy with them—so easy.
They are my comfort. They are the chicken soup for my soul.
We all got married, had kids. Life happened. Responsibilities piled up. Close to 15 years later.
But did they change? No. Never.
I am waiting for a day when these two meet each other. Do you think they will click?
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