Autumn of 1992

NCJPS Diaries, Chapter-8

Part-I (Genesis)

The world is full of love stories. This is a similar 30 year old story of a simple boy who dreamt big; albeit in his case destiny had different plans. At the risk of getting judged, in 3 part series I attempt to describe everything, just as it happened.

Dreams

As far as I could remember, I always had two sides to my personality. One fun-loving, nonchalant and happy-go-lucky type and the other entirely at contrast- thinker, serious and constantly striving type. It was like encasing two distinct souls in one body. With onset of puberty, along with physical changes hormonal flow also alters the direction of thoughts and perception towards opposite gender, unless there are early signs of being gay or lesbianism. This turbulent phase had deep impact on my thinker side, thereby heavily subduing the fun-loving part of me. Girls which I couldn’t stand earlier started looking charming. Infatuation with many mesmerizing girls became topic of relentless discussions in friend’s circle. Among them was a pretty girl from adjoining section whom I admired and for many years was touted with her reply of “saade aath-08:30”, when I daringly asked time from her. Such was the level of innocence or foolishness, if I may say. There were many ‘saade aaths’ in due course but none could be imagined in the role of life partner- not until 10th standard. It was in 1992 when the thinker in me started mulling over this serious issue. The potent fire in belly turned me into a potential achiever who dreamt of settling down early in life. The plans were simple but well thought of- Air Force Pilot, which I contemplated since 4th class; a beautiful wife, which I started searching for from 10th class; and a big house, whose architecture I decided in 6th class. With 2 things presumably within reach of my hardworking self- I began my quest for a lovely wife. The thoughts were still at a nascent stage when a personal tragedy struck at family front. A childhood friend, referred as my future bride in jest, passed away. It was a shock- not of losing a prospective wife but because she was a dear friend. The news spread in my immediate friend circle- Puneet being inseparable part of it. Boys sympathized and so did one girl. One brilliant, beautiful, sincere girl.

Heartbreak

Long before I stepped in to the Indian Military Academy, I had my first love and first heartbreak, followed by 2 more- with increasing intensity.

So it was a refreshing breeze of change when this girl whom I used to despise till now because of her over-disciplined, over-hyped closeness with teachers and over the air attitude; came forward and consoled me with her soothing words. That gumption changed everything and I wondered why I haven’t ever noticed her soft flowing hair, dark brown eyes and flawless bright skin before. I dismissed the thoughts as one-off rush of blood. But when I spotted her in a model of Doordarshan advertisement that evening, I knew something has gone haywire. Soon enough, I found her looking similar to Hema Malini when Dream Girl was aired on Doordarshan. And when the extra effort to shine shoes a little more along with urge to reach school at the earliest took over, it got confirmed that I’ve been bowled over.

As always, the first person to know about it was Puneet. He had a huge laugh- “Abbe, you both are poles apart”. Well, he never knew about my thinker side, which was perfectly compatible with her. Upon sensing seriousness, his next reaction was- “bhai baat karni hai toh bataa!” The second line was reassuring as he was famous for successful ‘girlfriend-boyfriend’ ideas and had been master in forging relationships. I said- “Guruji, jaldi se jaldi. Please.” That additional ‘please’ caught his attention about my desperation. Being a novice in this field and Puneet having perfected the art by now, how to proceed further was completely left to him. When he finally said- “Tu chinta mat kar. Ho jayega. Tera bhai kara dega teri setting”, I heaved a sigh of relief. This is how he used to converse during those days- calling serious attraction a ‘setting’. With Puneet on the job, I started day dreaming about my life with her and must have planned at least 2–3 future decades, oblivious to the fact that it was a highly dangerous form of optimism by a Sikh boy for a Hindu girl.

Nevertheless, my positivity and Puneet’s efforts paid off when before first period he came to my class and said- “Bhai mein subah mila tha usse aur thoda hint de diya hai. Abb aage tu aaj recess mein baat kar liyo.” My heart must have raced at 120 bpm, sweat appeared on brow and suddenly I realized that I wasn’t prepared for this moment. “Kya kaha usne?”-I was eager to know. “Bass yaar tu baat kar le. Umeed hai poori” -he tried to boost my morale. Next 4 periods prolonged like centuries and I kept deciphering her expressions, which definitely had changed. As the bell rang announcing recess, it struck me that I’d forgotten to ask Puneet - ‘bolna kya hai!’ Students started moving out and time to face fears had come. Within few minutes, X-A was almost empty - barring me, her and her closest friend. I had already pushed my closest friends out of the windows - we used to jump out of window as it was a ground floor, corner class facing the main lawns. As soon as we three were left, mustering all the courage I had at my disposal, I called out her name. She turned- I think she was aware what’s going to happen next. I asked her closest friend to excuse us for some time. The short dusky bespectacled friend of hers was shell shocked but readily obliged when my examiner who was about to declare my result nodded at her to leave us alone. “Puneet bol raha tha ki baat kar lena!” I asked nervously. “Kya baat karni hai?” she opened. “Wohi, that I am attracted to you” I confessed. Today I can say with certainty, the most difficult task in the world is not of landing a fighter jet on a windy dark night at a moving Aircraft Carrier, rather it is proposing to a woman you love and I fared badly doing it. “Toh fir?” my confidence had vanished when she remained silent for a while. “Toh fir kya?” she countered softly. “Toh fir - haa ya naa?” my time of reckoning had come. In our days a simple ‘haa’ or ‘naa’ used to decide everything. “Abhi toh haa hai, baaki aage dekhenge. Par kissi ko batana nahi” her reply put me on cloud nine, jubilant and extremely delighted. It was like being on top of the world- ‘I’ll become a pilot, then we’ll get married and live happily in a beautiful bungalow.’ That’s all I wanted. It was the happiest day of my life till that age. I was just 14 then.

The love story had a dream run for 3 months, from Aug-Oct 1992. It progressed satisfactorily, at least I think so. In those 3 months, to impress her I bought a blue-colored Atlas Concorde bicycle- a prized possession of my time. There were many sweet talks, devoid of any superficial non-sense. Simplicity was the flavor of Autumn of 1992. On 30th Oct, I found her a little offbeat and pulled her aside during Chemistry practicals, which were in 6th & 7th period I suppose. “Yaar, subah baat nahi kari, abb recess mein bhi baat nahi kari. Kya ho gaya?” I asked. “Gagan, I can’t continue this” -without any prior warning she dropped tons of weight on me. I could not believe what I just heard. “Kyu, koi galti ho gayi mujhse?” I suddenly felt lump in my throat. “My parents will decide my future. They probably already have.” I was aghast by her reply. Probably dismayed. I wasn’t able to speak any further. I didn’t had lunch, tea, dinner or breakfast of following morning nor could I sleep the whole night.

First thing next day was to approach Puneet and rattle out everything that happened, with a plea to set right what had gone wrong. To avoid making it verbose, in short Puneet tried his level best to fix it but failed. Many months went by without hunger, without fear of elders, without any botheration for studies. Sometimes when pain became absolutely unbearable, I used to take a bus and turn up at Puneet’s A-1/232 residence with a request to call her from a PCO on my behalf. Result of all this always ended up in a zilch. Reason behind all these endeavours was a ray of hope she left for me to cling on, when she said- “agar mere parents ko tumhare liye objection nahi hoga, toh mujhe koi problem nahi hai!” As a man of principles, I would have immediately backed off, had she instead said ‘I’m not interested in you.’ I tried every possible way to convince her for keeping the relationship open and reasoned with her about bringing her parents onboard at a later stage, God-willing when I would be in a position to approach them. Over a period of time, she revealed that there’s some Narula family who are interested in taking her as their daughter-in-law.

But I was in no mood to give in, definitely not till we were in respectable speaking terms and I had faith to figure a way out of this mess. I went to her place for one last time on 01 May 1993. Can’t forget the date. Sri Lankan President Premadasa was assassinated on that day. It was all over the evening newspapers. I drove my Atlas Concorde for 5 kms and parked it below a tree outside the premises. There were L-shaped black iron steps which led to her first floor flat. On light colored wall was the doorbell. I rehearsed lines and regathered my thoughts before pressing the bell. I had taken an audacious decision to reach out to her mother and speak about us, in case the situation permitted. After considerable time she appeared at the door. Within seconds I sensed her cold behaviour and disappointment of seeing me. That very moment something snapped inside me and I dropped the idea of pursuing conversation any further. The meeting and relationship was over, perhaps within a minute. When she closed the door at my back on that day, I permanently closed the first chapter of my love story.

Emergence

This madness consumed my academic performance. Marks dropped faster than Arnab’s reputation. Expectedly for me and unexpectedly for my parents, I scored poor 69.2% in 10th Board Exams. The result shook me up and I resolved to gather myself again in order to pursue my two other dreams- Fighter Pilot and Bungalow, with third one put on back-burner for a while.

I never again bothered to find out what exactly took her over. There were only handful of occasions in next 2 years when we barely spoke a sentence or two with each other, despite being in the same class. I saw her one final time in Mar 1995 after the last exam of 12th Board. She was donning a long off-white frock. As I disembarked from the DTC bus we both were travelling in, she glanced at me. For unknown reasons, I kept looking at the departing bus till it disappeared from the sight.

After 21 years, technology reconnected our mature selves. We had grown up from those fateful months of 1992. She is married and settled in Delhi. I even met her once when she invited me on her birthday. She was as charming and as beautiful as ever. I saw some of her family pictures. Surprisingly, there wasn’t any Mr Narula but someone else by her side.