Subodh

PART 1
“Like to have some Bournvita?” he asked. “Sure, why not…”We walked towards the counter which Cadbury’s had put up on the campus. “By the way, I am Subodh…from Frank Anthony School, Delhi and I already know you are Nayantara from Vidya Mandir, Nigdi- no don’t even bother to introduce yourself-I think I know you pretty well”. You were absolutely amazing at the debate today morning” I smiled, flattered that in a crowd of approximately 800 students he had managed to know me, even though this was the first time I was talking to him. I smiled more…this time for a different reason though…yesterday evening when I had heard him playing the guitar(with that faraway look in his eyes) and then later asking everyone to mingle with other schools rather than being in their own school groups my mind had said…. “Wow, here is a perfect gentleman in making…one who is talented, is social and can make people laugh”. I had sat all evening watching him, hidden in the shadows as he moved from one school group to another, smiling, chatting…impressed at his ease…….Within the next few hours I knew everything about him…everything that seemed worthwhile from the eyes of a girl in Class XI…that he was in Class XII, Science stream (with Maths, Bio and Computers) that he played the guitar (I already knew), that he had no girlfriends (really??), that he had topped his batch in X with 98.7% (versatile genius) and that he played basket ball (Basketball in my mind equaled hot, thanks to “Kuch Kuch Hota Hai”, that was released just a month back. All in all a perfect guy.

“…you are thinking something? Maybe about the second round of debate tomorrow?” he asked, bringing me back into the present. “Ah...well no, I was thinking that you are superb at the guitar. I play but not as well…maybe you can get me some tips” “Oh sure…so you heard me yesterday evening…” It was his turn to be flattered. But then with a serious look he added, “I wanted to talk to you yesterday only but then you were sitting right on the other side- every time I tried to approach you, someone came over to say hello and then at dinner time I did not see you in the hall…where were you?” “My parents had called in so I was speaking to them…besides I wasn’t really hungry”. I was impressed…yet again…I thought I would fill him with all the information I had bothered to collect yesterday, but then decided otherwise at the last moment. Instead I decided to let him talk and hence asked “So, what have you been reading lately?”

Bournvita followed another Bournvita and then a few hours later dinner. We were still talking, so what about what we already knew about each other. My school mates gave me surprised glances and so did his. A couple of them tried to join in but then after a few minutes of listening they left. It seemed as if there was no space for anyone else, except the two of us. To me it seemed that I haven’t talked to anyone so much in my whole life. I ignored the steely glances that the accompanying teacher from my school gave me, when I walked into the dormitory. I didn’t care…why would I? Wasn’t I just talking? Before we started from school the Principal had said “Winning the first prize isn’t everything. Count the trip a success if you are able to make one good friend during this 10 day inter-school competition” That night when I went to bed I had a big smile on my face…

The remaining days passed in a jiffy. We managed to meet each other at every free hour. On the competition mornings during breakfasts and in between the competitions. On free mornings sitting on the benches by the pool watching the competition. Lunch together followed by the wonderful evenings spent in walking round the campus, discussing books, teachers, board exams, politics and what not. It was obvious to everyone that we were making this special effort to be together and in return everyone made this special effort to ignore us. Or rather ignore me. My school mates made sure not to talk to me when I tried. Often I could hear them snickering right in front of me about my “more than friendship” with this guy from Delhi. I didn’t mind…he was hot property…thanks to his good looks and the brain on his head and he was all mine….

The last evening we gave each other autographs and addresses (internet wasn’t there then) and promised to stay in touch. Forever. I knew we would- no questions asked. In the fairy tale world in which I lived I could see him being the heart surgeon and me, a journalist. Best friends, buddies, soulmates with no problems, in the world of happiness, as it happened in movies…

The next morning was the prize distribution. We had both won our respective competitions; he was the robotics champ and me, the debating queen. It brought us closer if only to separate us from the rest of our school mates- the distance between us equivalent to the distance between the earth and the seventh heaven.

A couple of hours later, it was time to say good bye. I still remember the scene…me sitting on the last seat of the bus and him, coming from across the other side of the huge parking lot- running so as not to miss saying goodbye. My school mates in the bus were laughing-at him, at me but my eyes were transfixed on him. He made it finally- to my window. Aware of the fact that we were being heard- all he said was “Goodbye. Take care.” I nodded, even as our eyes carried the conversation ahead. The bus started, the engine roared to life. He extended his hand and I let down mine. Fingers touched for a brief moment and the running bus parted us.

I sat back. Closed my eyes, more to shut out the sound of giggles from the school mates than for anything else. I knew the merciless so called friends would butcher me at school. Teachers would call me “someone with a reputation” and maybe circulate false stories. The next few days would be hell. But then the next moment I was smiling, as my fingers tightened over the trophy that nestled in my lap even as my heart warmed to the fond memories that would be cherished forever…

PART 2
Back to school. The same old life, the same old routine aggravated by the fact that I had to copy the course that had been covered in the last 10 days. Noone wanted to talk to me but then on the surface I didn’t care. Often someone from another section or even from other class would come and ask me about the “robotics guy” I had met. Even the teachers, while praising me for the only trophy that our school had received peppered their comments…Within a couple of days of settling back into the routine I decided to write a letter to Subodh. The letter ran into several pages and I could see questions in my mother’s eyes when she saw the fat envelope addressed to a guy. She didn’t say a word…because she was the new generation mom who gave “freedom” to their children. But then she was unsure if I was using or misusing the freedom? Almost a month later I received the reply, not an equally long letter but a long one. Again the question in my mother’s eyes. But she kept quiet. This continued for the next 6 months. I would read and re-read the letters and then read them again.9th January 1999. His birthday. I had already sent in the birthday card and my eyes were fixed on the landline which was kept locked-out of reach. I so wanted to wish him, but did not dare to ask mom. It didn’t look to be the right time- exams were ongoing and I hadn’t done too well in the Maths test. The door bell rings. Postman…bringing a letter from him. My heart skips a beat…It’s the New Year card. The letter this time is a short one. It says that his parents had read my last letter and were a bit surprised; if by nothing else then at the amount that was written there-in. They had very patiently explained to him that letter writing can wait…for a few more months. My heart fell…I could almost hear the dull thud. I wondered how I would manage to concentrate on studies without a word from him. Anyways, I read further. He went on to explain as to how the boards were just 3 months away and he hadn’t really studied. He said sorry for not being able to write, mentioning that this was necessary, if I wanted to see him as the heart surgeon. Farewell. Study hard and be happy. Yours forever….Subodh. I read the whole letter again. Then read “forever” and as tears rolled down my eyes the “forever” first got dimmed and then magnified- so much that there was nothing else I could read. I resolved to write back…atleast to say goodbye for the next few months.To write back I needed time. And time was in control of mom. I requested her to spare me half hour from studies. She agreed more readily than I had imagined “11-11:30 PM after you have completed the Maths portion for the Monday test”. Sounded ok to me.My mother slept in the bed next to my study table to ensure that she could keep an eye on me- since I was in the habit of dozing off on the chair itself. I was working on integration problems even as one eye was watching the clock, it seemed it was moving dead slow. 10 PM. 10:07 PM. 10.10 PM. Each minute was like an hour. At 10:30 PM when I could hear mom snoring I decided to take a 3 minute break. The letter that I had received was in my notebook. I turned over to read it…or rather read between the lines of the letter that was now etched perfectly in my head. I was lost amidst some lines, when all of a sudden my mom turned around, right in the middle of a snore with eyes open (I still marvel at the tricks she played on me). I sat frozen…the half turned notebook...the letter and my eyes riveted on her…She got up from bed and saw right through my “3 minute break”. I tried to explain but no words came. She on the other hand seemed all full of energy (to shout) after the short nap. “You have the audacity to read letters during study hours? That too after such a poor performance? I have had enough of this yaari dosti…which you had cultivated during the MACFAIR (the interschool competition where I had met Subodh).” She went on and on. My heart sank as I remembered all the times when she had eyed the fat envelopes with disdain and said nothing. It was all coming out now. Like a cat she had been waiting to catch me at the right moment…Then she said and did something which I hadn’t imagined. She got up from the bed, took the letter off my hands, took the address diary that had the addresses of all my MACFAIR friends (and most importantly his) and locked it inside her cupboard. “Na rahega baans na bajegi bansuri.” Plain and simple. End of story.So the last letter did not go. Even when I scored 39 out of 40 in the Maths test. I did not dare to ask back for the address diary. On getting a suitable chance I searched it in her almirah, but then it wasn’t there. Obviously mom being a mom expected me to do this and had hidden it elsewhere. There was no way I could ask someone who had accompanied me at MACFAIR for the address for the fear of being ridiculed. My only hope was that he might write back (with his address mentioned at the back under “If undelivered please return to”). But then I should have known that this was hoping against hope…he had already said his goodbye for a couple of months.Days passed and so did months. My search continued but without any results. A whole year went by. No letters came. I realized with bitterness that he would not write anymore because of whatever his parents had explained him on that fateful day. I managed to finish with my boards and then it was time to apply to colleges. Every time someone asked me “which college would I prefer?” I would name the city instead of the college. Delhi. That’s where I want to be. I knew I would search him out even in a city as big as that. My mom again saw through my thoughts and at the last moment she forced me to opt for Allahabad instead of Delhi. A thousand reasons but both of us knew the real reason….3 years went by and then it was time again to apply for post graduation. This time I made sure that I went nowhere except Delhi. Finally my “Dilli Chalo Andolan” breeded results and then one day I was there…When someone asked me why I had chosen this college over another one, my answer was again more city centric than college centric. Craziness….However, once in Delhi the idea of searching someone without a clue didn’t seem a brilliant idea. I kept putting it off for the next day amidst other more important stuff…assignments, examinations, ragging, summer trainings…It was during the Second year during the Diwali vacations that I managed to find time for the pursuit of one objective that had carried me so far. 5 years had passed and his face was a haze now. But the heart? It was still there…right at the spot where he had said his final goodbye…Internet was accessible now, so I decided to use it. Invoked Google Bhagwaan. “Subodh Tripathi” – too many results and none seemed relevant. “Subodh Tripathi, Frank Anthony School, Delhi” led me to him but there were no contacts mentioned. After a while I gave up, frustrated, accepting it as my fate never to meet him again….I did'nt realise what future had in store for me...All I had to do was to wait for the right moment of time....