Alumni Reunion
You are invited to come to campus on the 15th November 2014
When I read this email a couple of months ago, it brought back memories of the wonderful time I had spent in college a year back. The last minute assignments, the presentations, the group outings, the late-night discussions, friends for a lifetime... and Paro... Those 2 years spent in campus wouldn't have been as beautiful had it not been for her. I had decided that come what may, I'll make it to the meet. And now, as I was entering the campus, I couldn't help waiting for the moment when I could see her again.
I still remember the monsoon evening when I had the chance encounter of first meeting her. It was a week since classes had begun, and I had come back drenched from my local guardian's place outside campus. She was sitting on the table near the dhaba with her friends Ruchi and Priya, who I later realized were the perfect complements to her calmness. I waved to my friend Vidya who was interacting with her, and went for a quick chat. Paro looked warm and inviting, those tiny black moles made her all the more pretty. Vidya introduced me, and I was sure I heard violins playing in the background.
We begun bumping into each other more often then - at the mess, in class, in the hostel, during practice sessions for the cultural fest. A quintessential Delhiite, she easily made friends, in fact almost everyone on campus had interacted with her within a couple of weeks of being there. I was the polar opposite. With others, I generally spoke sparsely and preferred keeping to myself. But with her it had always been different. She couldn't speak. So I drove the conversation, telling her about this place and that, how I wanted to do so much but life was so short, and kept talking about obscure things that I found interesting. There was no way to judge whether she actually listened or gathered much, but there was a sense of calmness in her being that soothed my nerves.
As I now stood waiting to register my name for the meet, I reminisced how Paro at times took ages to get ready. That was especially irritating when I wanted to take her out, but I couldn't blame her entirely for it, for there were so many people at her home that it was always a busy place. Many of these cousins that I met over time were all unique characters, but none as interesting as my Paro. On some rare days when she would be with me in a jiffy, I would relish the additional time I could spend with her. She wasn't perfect, no one can be, but then she tried being consistent in whatever she did. She had that great mix of earthiness and exuberance that drew me to her, and her soft-natured goodness was acclaimed by everyone. Far from extravagant, and liked to keep her appearance as simple as possible. I could vouch for the fact that she truly believed in the inner self, and that was something I loved the most.
I was now walking through the campus, greeting the teachers, meeting juniors, acknowledging the security guards and soaking in the whole atmosphere. I crossed the TT room where we must have spent umpteen evenings exercising our eyes. The CCD counter where we mocked people buying overpriced stuff. The steps near the classroom where we had sat many times before an assignment was due. The stone block near the car park where I had first confessed that I liked her.
But then some things, especially the good ones, don't last forever. See, we come from a traditional family, where your parents had the final say. They were coming to my graduation ceremony, so I thought I would introduce them to her directly. Which I did. But it turned out exactly as I had imagined. My dad, who was rushing off to his cardiologist's conference after the ceremony, started finding fault with her then and there, and blamed mom for giving me too much freedom. What did they know of Paro in one meet that they could judge her? I just told her not to take it to heart, and went back to my room sobbing. But things were never the same between us again. The relationship was strained and there was no going back.
As I now sat at the dhaba near the back gate of our campus, chatting about the good old times with my classmates, my mind was elsewhere. I continuously kept looking out for her, despite a couple of them confirming that she hadn't arrived yet. Just when Nikhil was the only person laughing at the lame joke he had just cracked, I noticed a tap on my shoulder, and turned instantly
"Sir, your Aloo Pyaaz Parantha, with butter"
There she was finally, my Paro. I'll have to check whether the dhaba guy has Ruchi (mix veg pickle) or Priya (mango pickle) today :)
You are invited to come to campus on the 15th November 2014
When I read this email a couple of months ago, it brought back memories of the wonderful time I had spent in college a year back. The last minute assignments, the presentations, the group outings, the late-night discussions, friends for a lifetime... and Paro... Those 2 years spent in campus wouldn't have been as beautiful had it not been for her. I had decided that come what may, I'll make it to the meet. And now, as I was entering the campus, I couldn't help waiting for the moment when I could see her again.
I still remember the monsoon evening when I had the chance encounter of first meeting her. It was a week since classes had begun, and I had come back drenched from my local guardian's place outside campus. She was sitting on the table near the dhaba with her friends Ruchi and Priya, who I later realized were the perfect complements to her calmness. I waved to my friend Vidya who was interacting with her, and went for a quick chat. Paro looked warm and inviting, those tiny black moles made her all the more pretty. Vidya introduced me, and I was sure I heard violins playing in the background.
We begun bumping into each other more often then - at the mess, in class, in the hostel, during practice sessions for the cultural fest. A quintessential Delhiite, she easily made friends, in fact almost everyone on campus had interacted with her within a couple of weeks of being there. I was the polar opposite. With others, I generally spoke sparsely and preferred keeping to myself. But with her it had always been different. She couldn't speak. So I drove the conversation, telling her about this place and that, how I wanted to do so much but life was so short, and kept talking about obscure things that I found interesting. There was no way to judge whether she actually listened or gathered much, but there was a sense of calmness in her being that soothed my nerves.
As I now stood waiting to register my name for the meet, I reminisced how Paro at times took ages to get ready. That was especially irritating when I wanted to take her out, but I couldn't blame her entirely for it, for there were so many people at her home that it was always a busy place. Many of these cousins that I met over time were all unique characters, but none as interesting as my Paro. On some rare days when she would be with me in a jiffy, I would relish the additional time I could spend with her. She wasn't perfect, no one can be, but then she tried being consistent in whatever she did. She had that great mix of earthiness and exuberance that drew me to her, and her soft-natured goodness was acclaimed by everyone. Far from extravagant, and liked to keep her appearance as simple as possible. I could vouch for the fact that she truly believed in the inner self, and that was something I loved the most.
I was now walking through the campus, greeting the teachers, meeting juniors, acknowledging the security guards and soaking in the whole atmosphere. I crossed the TT room where we must have spent umpteen evenings exercising our eyes. The CCD counter where we mocked people buying overpriced stuff. The steps near the classroom where we had sat many times before an assignment was due. The stone block near the car park where I had first confessed that I liked her.
But then some things, especially the good ones, don't last forever. See, we come from a traditional family, where your parents had the final say. They were coming to my graduation ceremony, so I thought I would introduce them to her directly. Which I did. But it turned out exactly as I had imagined. My dad, who was rushing off to his cardiologist's conference after the ceremony, started finding fault with her then and there, and blamed mom for giving me too much freedom. What did they know of Paro in one meet that they could judge her? I just told her not to take it to heart, and went back to my room sobbing. But things were never the same between us again. The relationship was strained and there was no going back.
As I now sat at the dhaba near the back gate of our campus, chatting about the good old times with my classmates, my mind was elsewhere. I continuously kept looking out for her, despite a couple of them confirming that she hadn't arrived yet. Just when Nikhil was the only person laughing at the lame joke he had just cracked, I noticed a tap on my shoulder, and turned instantly
"Sir, your Aloo Pyaaz Parantha, with butter"
There she was finally, my Paro. I'll have to check whether the dhaba guy has Ruchi (mix veg pickle) or Priya (mango pickle) today :)
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