Mothi

Imaginary friends are cool. They always laugh at your jokes, compliment you on your pretty new frock, never let you feel lonely, show bursting enthusiam for all the games you invent, and display unflinching loyalty even when you behave unreasonably. Not that real friends behave any differently. Imaginary friends are cooler cos, well, they’re just yours and you don’t have to share them.
Mothi is my imaginary friend. She wears a black and white checked frock and white pearl earrings. She’s the one I shared all the games and activities I invented with. Like making pots and plates using red clay found under the tree in the front yard. She was the only one that knew the right amount of water to be mixed with the clay and the exact spot they were left to dry in the scorching heat.
We used to have long conversations about all my classmates and why Raji miss beat me yet again that day and all our worldly worries while making pulpy keerai paste of leaves on the ammi in the backyard. This would then be cooked on our brittle red clay pots. The conversation would continue through the delicious meal. In the night, she would lie down next to me and talk to me and sing songs with me till I slept.
I thought of Mothi today after many many years. She feels just as real as she did when I was 3. What the hell, its 1.30 in the night and I could use some nocturnal company.