Gajak, a Winter Delight

Gajak is a sweet  that we eat without feeling guilt as it is a bundle of nutrients. Jaggery a natural sweetener and sesame with its richness makes it an ideal snack to devour.

My date with a gajak factory is fixed on the Christmas Day. Following the address as I cross Jareeb Chawki  signal, I can smell the sweet smell of melting jaggery, though my car windows are tightly shut. I reach a cozy factory with a furnace, huge woks of iron, roasted sesame and melted jaggery all around.

For making gajak, jaggery is heated till the consistency is like hard kneaded dough. The most interesting part comes when the trained workers stretch this dough like elastic. A nail on the wall is used to tuck the dough and it is stretched and whipped for some time. It looks like a thick shinning rope. Now roasted sesame is mixed well with jaggery and  divided into the pieces of half Kg each.Now each piece is beaten with wooden hammers by two persons. finally an iron frame is pressed on it to divide it into square pieces.

The gajak is ready to be packed immediately to avoid the moisture so that it remains crisp.

Mrs Rani, the owner of this factory, is a part of this family business for more than 50 yrs. She invites me to see how they make sugar-toys, a popular sweet during diwali as gajak is made and consumed only in winters. Ruchi, her granddaughter gives me a packet of chocolate-gajak and leaves me enveloped with the sweetness of her gift and smile.

2014, A Memoir

I  have seen so many 'New Years' Eves' and birthdays, but none could make me feel a day older. I'm not sentimental about them. Neither I raise a toast for the new year nor lament for the year gone by. I do have regrets but I let them torment me any time of the day when they want. No resolutions, though I do have a bucket list.

2014 gave me a pair of reading glasses. People who never needed spectacles can't deny their craving for wearing one, at least at some point of their lives. Specs do add something to one's personality. May be because specs are associated with being studious or intelligent. If you are wearing them since childhood or student life then it is normal. If you start wearing them late in life when your hair or goatee has a silver tinge  then it is directly connected to the fact that half of the journey in this planet is over.

In the month of April I visited my brother. While we sat and chatted, I picked up a newspaper and showed him that I have to keep it at a distance to read it. I asked him if I should get my eyes tested. It took me to our childhood when he used to answer all my queries. He immediately gave me one of his pairs of glasses.The moment I wore it and read, the words looked crystal clear.

I came back home with a pair of trendy reading glasses. Nothing changed much, but I observed  that I was gesticulating in a familiar way. As, while reading and suddenly talking to someone, I bend my head a little and with wide eyes stared at the person, avoiding seeing through the glasses.  The very first time when I looked this way I thought of my father. Years back, I reached his office from college as a friend needed her mark sheet to be attested. We were standing next to him. He lowered his head and looked at us with his almost bulging eyes and asked, "Where is the original?" I almost shouted reminding him that she was a close friend. Those eyes I still remember.

I feel so much like my mom when I ask others to pass my specs. I realise that a different phase of life has started. I was reading quotations posted on FB giving us gyaan that age is in the mind etc, just then I was called, I looked up and was immediately  told that I look like my mom.

The Woman in the Joke is You, so Don't Laugh!

• We all get jokes that begin like:

* Two gals were playing chess....wait the joke has not completed yet...

* Ek baar ek aadmi ki wife mar gayi. ( once a man lost his wife)

Since I love to laugh, I used to enjoy these jokes till one day my daughter gave me a piece of her mind. Don't know why, but I never found these jokes derogatory for women. I used to think it's ok to laugh at one's own sex. After all it is only a joke. But suddenly I realised why we never get jokes on idiosyncrasies of men? 

After FB and stand up comedians, now Wot's App is the latest carrier of these. I don't blame them, but call them innocent because they have not yet realised the curse they are transferring to the next generation. After all I was in the same boat once.

Now whenever I get such  forwarded jokes by innocent women/relatives/younger cousins, I copy paste this message :

"Your joke was funny but such jokes are called 'sexist' ie against the dignity of women. I have decided not to appreciate  and forward such messages. How wrong it is that  if we just replace the word 'wife' with 'husband', nobody would laugh."

Our films are the bigger culprits. Few months back I was forced to watch, 'Two States'

 in a theatre.  A dear friend persuaded and I couldn't say no. She wanted to watch it because she had to set the question paper based on the book for her BA students. Apart from other things I found Amrita Singh's character so obnoxious that I preferred the gatekeeper's company outside,  than sitting inside the hall. I was amazed that nobody thought the way I did. I have seen IIT + IIM gals and they do not behave like the young actress was behaving.

 Thank you dear for the opening my eyes and ordering  Simone de Beauvoir's 'the Second sex'  for me.

Unfriends

A mountain breeze

happy, unshackled and ecstatic.

Undisturbed and non- disturbing

flowing like a river, with an ease

"Pray, stop I want to mingle",

begged the fragrance of a flower.

Knowing it would disturb her equilibrium said,

No, we 're happy the way we are..

But this is not the way of the world,

You'd be lonely without me.

Nature's kingdom would  be incomplete

If we didn't meet.

A beautiful tale will remain untold.

Think of the deep bonding of the 

loose atoms,

Don't be shy, be bold.

The fragrance was inviting,

the promise of life long belonging.

And together creating a gift for humanity.

Madly, deeply, truly.

Slowly, the bond started to break

It is  also the law of nature, the breeze exclaimed!

And heard the scent of the flower asking a wild wind

Pray, stop I want to mingle. Bonding...depth...belonging.

Election in the Times of Electronic Media

Not that my house buzzed with election discussions during 1977 General Election, but we kids had to keep quiet during 8.45 pm news on radio, mostly by Devki Nandan Pandey. I was too young to know about elections but was old enough to know that Indira Gandhi was going to lose because of something called 'emergency'. I remember people discussing Rajnarayan and HN Bahuguna while we played at the beautiful lawns of  Police Headquarters Allahabad.

Thanks to the internet and TV news channels for making the elections more spicy as well as informative.But it also has a negative side. I wonder if netas made such obnoxious and repulsive statements as, "Rape is just a mistake" and "kargil was won by the soldier of a particular community, knowing that instantly the messag will reach their target audiences and they would get the publicity

I was the greatest enthusiast during the Anna Hazare's fast against curruption. Remember those long live telecast ?. Kezriwal became my hero.Well- meaning friends, even back then, warned me that he is a dramabaaz, but I even wore an Anna Cap thinking there is someone who is trying to make my country a better place to live. Now seeing all his drama I'm so ashamed of my choice. Now those well wishers laugh at me and the loudest laugh is from the one who is from the next gen and lives with me in the same house.

Election campaigning is in the full swing. All the parties are using the internet to the hilt. BJP seems to be on the top for an hour long interview of its PM candidate was trending on Twitter....worldwide. Hero worship is all time high. India's National Festival IPL and Bollywood have taken the back seat. Indian populace is divided into the devotees of one party/leader or the other. previously middle-aged were seen discussing Chunaav, polls but now eighteen plus look most active.Today these birdies on Twitter NamoNehaRoy, darrengal, SweetRiya, and shatirbilli keep me updated and my funny-bone tickled.Gone are the days when polling day was booked for picnics. Very healthy symptoms for democracy.

In this hullaballo of social media, emerge some victims too. people who are dignified, shy and  happy in their own world are brought to the limelight. They are discussed and made fun of. Their photos are splashed everywhere from print media to graffiti on the net. Here I'm talking abt Yashodaben. No link to her pic here. Or I would be doing the same what I detest. She was  married to Mr. Modi and separated just after her marriage. Must have been a difficult life for her in the Indian society. I don't know her feelings for her husband but I surely know that she is uncomfortable with media pestering her and depriving her of her privacy.

I feel bad for our PM Manmohan Singh  also.Whatever, a dignified professor, who was once appreciated for his work which he knows best, does not deserve his photoshopped cartoons being circulated on FB and Twitter.

The opinion polls show BJP leading and the way winds are blowing but only final results will tell which camp this storm will uproot.

I know whoever comes to power will not have a magic wand but, I sincerely hope proper roads and cleanliness for my beloved city which ranks at number 10 in terms of GDP.

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The Curse of the Sage.

I don't think we would ever know how Sunanda Pushkar died. She didn't have anything in common with my favourite people, but her untimely death shook me. Like many women bloggers I too wondered that why only women have to face the music in any relationship? Even Advanced Learner's Dictionary defines 'dumped' by giving the example,  "Did you hear? He's dumped his GF". why not the other way round? Tumbler is full of the sobbing though lovely quotes from the girls who have yet to see the world.

Going back to mythology/literature Shakuntala seems to have started this pattern. She lived blissfully in the natural surroundings of her father Karnv Rishi's Ashram. A prince came and fell in love with her. (and not the other way round) He  later forgot her completely as our Shakuntala was cursed by Durvasa, a sage when she was lost in the thoughts of her beau and did not greet him with due respect. Her misery was over after few years when the king gets to see the ring and his memory is back.But the curse still seems to linger.

Another curse is by Oscar Wilde whose famous quote is accepted by even some modern and contemporary people.Most of us would not agree though.

 “Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship.” 

I laughed at this quote when I read Ismat Chugtai's memoir that how she went to Lahore from Bombay to appear in the court as one of her stories were considered obscene. Manto,another renowned writer was also accused .So they reached lahore and stayed at another friend's house.She writes how she enjoyed the shopping in Lahore and wanted to be there again.

We see beautiful friendships around us between men and women. but there is always a fear of ,'in the name of friendship...' accusation. After Sunanda episode I got to read a mail by Mr Tharoor to his female fren,which says that they were good friends and how he wished his wife understood it.

I usually  turn to Ramayan whenever I am looking for an answer. I have yet to explore it deeply and I'm sure to get an answer there.But I got my answer in an another epic  Mahabharata, through the characters of Krishna and Draupadi. Did anyone ever thought their relationship to be  anything but friendship? How he helped her when she neede him the most

This beautiful quote from Dr Lohiya says it all: Roughly translated) " Draupadi was neither krishna's sister, wife, lover, mother nor an ascetic, but only true friend ( kewal shuddh mitre).

                          

A Belated Infatuation

A guest post by Arushi dated December 29, 2013. Remembering the immortal superstar on his 71st.

The world didn’t end in 2012, but was left with a void because of which it would forever seem       incomplete. I write this with a person in mind whose absence only now I have come to fully mourn.

“Rajesh Khanna”, my father had replied when some seven years ago I had interrupted him watching a movie by my question,“ Who is this handsome man?” Little did I know then that this actor would break my hostility to Bollywood as I knew it by taking me to its golden era of the seventies. Having enjoyed watching Anand and Bawarchi with parents at 13, I had yet to discover what made romance synonymous with Rajesh Khanna.

Now years later I caught the Kaka fever on a breezy July evening. The weather called for some music but I craved for something new as I was tired of the same songs in my overplayed playlist. Kishore Kumar’s name came to my mind and I found an album ‘Remembering Rajesh Khanna’ on searching his songs. The fantastic songs led me to watch all of Kaka’s hit movies and so I discovered Hindi cinema’s superstar and became one of his thousands of infatuated female fans. Just like stars leave their light in our skies for generations to see, this superstar’s twinkle reached me now, even though he had shone brightest long I was even born.

What I was perhaps too young to fully appreciate at 13, I began to relish at 20. The absolute pleasure of watching Kaka’s acting was the chief motivation, but I enjoyed other things that the movies had to offer as well. I marvelled at the wonderful contrast that the cinema of the seventies posed to the present day. Every movie that I watched had the perfect blend of science and art, from well structured plots to melodious and richly poetic songs. The movies even reminded me of my class lectures as the storylines met the demands of Aristotle’s dictums of ‘reversal’ and ‘discovery’ and the songs blazoned the beloved in a livelier way than Petrarch. I also admired how movies back then were made to mirror the society’s shortcomings and profess a hope for change. Even as they ended usually on a happy note, the gender and class problems stood out. Issues of widow remarriage in Kati Patang, the hard life of widows in Aaradhana, and the  prostitution in Amar Prem and Mehboob ki Mehendi, are a few examples of the ways in which movies fulfilled their responsibility of being vehicles of reflection and change in the society. This moralistic aspect blended all too well with the divine persona that Kaka portrayed. The crux of the stories’ messages was always voiced by his character, and would become ingrained in the audience’s minds because of the dramatic perfection in his acting. It’s interesting to note that even in the story, so often he was called “devata”, as he indeed became in reality with his superstardom. The characters, sometimes even the villain, would be as much in awe of him as the audience. This blurring of the line between fictive and real worlds added to the fantasy that cinema created for the people.

Kaka became this awe-inspiring magnet by virtue of his indescribable charisma. All poetry in the songs could only strike so strong a chord with the audience because of that spell he cast with his eyes, voice, and charm. I had been used to listening to songs, but with Rajesh Khanna, I ‘saw’ the songs as I listened to them, as if the mandragora of his eyes spilled into the sweet melody and created a sweeter ecstasy. Songs usually appeal to us mostly because we find in them something that relates to our lives, but Kaka’s songs also carry the effect that he infused in them by his serene seductiveness. The helplessness that I feel for lacking words to express all that I so ardently admire in him, I also feel for the lack of people in my age group with whom I can share my passion for him. Being very late to the Kaka fan club, I envy the fans who have lived in his reign, have seen him up-close and keep cherished autographs. I also realised that not only is my passion belated, it is also much belittled by the passion of his fans when I learned of the euphoria that spread in his stardom, of girls writing letters to him in blood and even marrying his photograph! Such craze remains unparallelled even today and is the only way to express his aura when words fail.

The wide variety of roles he has played also pays homage to his artistry as he played the imperfect man with his classic perfection. Be it the uncaring husband driven to madness by being trapped in false blames in Ittefaq or the alcoholic womanizer in Prem Nagar, Kaka made the audience love his character as he showed the frailties of man and the sad truths and circumstance that made a man cross the line dividing the good from the bad. Of course, at the heart of this rich variety always lay the essential element of romance, without which no movie could captivate the audience. And Rajesh Khanna defined exactly that captivation. Even the restrictions of propriety that the seventies era posed on cinema only stoked his fiery charm. In his actions, there is that essence of literature which implies love in a poetic, subtle sense and heightens the emotive potential in being symbolic, dramatic, artistic. It is his alchemy because of which, Roop Tera Mastana, a song shot in only four takes and involving just sight and delicate touch, became the most sensual song filmed in Hindi cinema. The importance of songs needs no explanation, but what Rajesh Khanna did with the romantic lyrics shows how the song was the hallmark of love and courtship in the movies. It is in the songs where he puts to work his wondrous ways of implying love through mannerisms and multiplies the effect of the already effusive romance in the songs. From rubbing his fingers across his lips to the iconic eye blink, there’s even more to him than pure charm. His art feeds also on the perfection with which he delivers the dialogues, as if his voice wrote it in the air that those lines were to go down in history.

While he made history on screen, his personal history isn’t documented with similar glory. Even on being told that he was impractically dramatic, a “complex person” according to gossip columnist Devi, and one who, according to the BBC’s documentary, had the “arrogance of Napoleon”, I could reason away every blame that his critics piled on him. What he achieved as an artist is so great that, for a fan, all his faults get eclipsed by that wink of his eyes. Watching his estranged wife Dimple say, “there was no man behind Rajesh Khanna, there was only Rajesh Khanna.. He lived like Anand, he was Anand”, I smiled for she answered my wondering questions about how he would have been in real life. Not much then, remains hidden from his beloved fans who are the subject of his last on-screen dialogue ( Havell’s ad : “Mere fans mujhse koi nahi cheen sakta”) and to whom he dedicated and addressed his last message. There isn’t a single interview I could find where he doesn’t thank his fans from the heart, for giving him so much love.

While dialogues from Anand are Kaka fans’ anthem and are usually reiterated to evoke the immortal superstar that he’ll always be, this line from Prem Kahani said by Vinod Khanna’s minor character in his dying breath encapsulates the undying love that Kaka inspired : Rajesh hamare dil mein hai.

The Wheel of Time.

There were many things Ayush did for the first time during his school trip to Delhi. Playing  ‘Teen patti’ (flash) was one of them. With Rs 30/  he won 370 in one deal, and treated everyone with  boiled eggs on a thela. Other secrets I could not dig as he had a friend waiting on Skyp and then various tests he had to take in his coaching classes as well as in school."Bahut mauj kaati", (enjoyed a lot) he said in the local lingo and left me unpacking his soiled clothes. I could relate to every moment he was going through.

The wheel of time seemed to stare at me saying, "See how fast I move."

It does seem long back when after returning from Allahabad, State level games our frends came back to college and three of them had the same expression on their faces.They blurted to each other,'You also know?" Then began a live show by three stand-up comedians at the basket ball floor of MKP College.. Laughter was already in the air.

In their basket ball team some of the girls were from other schools. In the train a mind-blowing session of  songs and dance  was  a ritual .Suitcses used to be one of the main musical instruments.I wonder if RD Burman knew abt it, as he has used desks in one of the songs in Kitaab. Very late at night,in the Link Express,when the orchestra died down, girls went to their berths and boys went to the seperate compartment.

When everyone went into deep slumber,a boy entered and came to a girl. The girl ws nervous.But the boy told her tht all ws well.She whispered the names of all the three girls who, had berths around her.Assured of their privacy they must hv carried on..It must have been difficult for the 3 kids to supress their giggles.I wonder if they pulled her leg when they met her in some other tournament.

MKP was known for its hap and bold girls who had come from different elite and other schools of Dehrdun.The uniform was all white,shalwar-kurta and dupatta.A famous one liner goes like this: seeing them in all white a boy said,
"MKP ki saari lardkiyaan vidhwa ho gayi hai'
Immediately came the answer, "Haan DAV ke saare lardke mar jo gaye hain"

Once we were standing in a circle and talking to our games teacher in the winter sun.Suddenly we spotted a man near a small gate which opened to  a lane.The lane was called love-lane. Not many students used it. A pervert was standing and making obscene gestures. It was quite a distance otherwise one of us would have hit him with a real big stone.We were seething with rage.A girl shouted "tod ke haath main rakh do", eveyone looked at her, then she completed her sentence....:iske daant".(Break his teeth and put it in his hand)
Without deciding anything, they just ran behind him.One of them, a tall Sikh girl  had a hockey stick with her.They chased him till the market but in the crowd he could escape.They came back without thrashing him.But no such incidence was repeated there.

Thinking about my college days and trips, I asked Ayush, "Who won the maximum money in Teen Patti?"
"Arundhati", she won Rs 700/.

Uniform Trouble

The school uniform was introduced in India by the British. I never cease to thank them for that. As a mother I realize that I might have spent a fortune on branded clothes for my kids, but I found them most dashing in their white uniform.

Growing up in Dehradun, a city famous for its schools, I got to see beautiful uniforms. The most chic I found, belonged to Welham Girls' School. White lower (salwar) and white kurta with blue bug shaped dots and a thinly folded dupatta. IMA (Indian Military Academy) also gave the locals, the pleasure of gazing admiringly at the young recruits in their uniforms, even at the places like restaurants and bazaars.

I wore blue, green and white uniforms during my different schools and college. I loved to wear my uniform and even iron it, which used to be a salwar kurta or a tunic. When I joined teaching, things began to change. My first boss was a Russian. He introduced a multi coloured scarf, representing different Houses. Though it saved them from the burden of wearing a tie, I found it unnecessary. Many newly opened schools experimented with a light coloured shirt and dark coloured lower, i.e., shorts, pants or skirts. All the schools came up with lovely combinations.

  Wondering about the school uniforms in the rural India long back, I asked my 75 year old father about his uniform in school. Uniform for them meant  just a white cap or Gandhi topi. The moment he used to see the sun rays hitting a particular rock he used to grab his topi and rush to school which was located by the river Mandakini, a tributary of the Ganges. After standard five he came to Dehradun.  He wore his first uniform, khaki shorts and white shirt, in a school run by Jansangh. Most of his classmates were refugees from Pakistan, their differences vanishing under the garb of the uniform.

My house at the IIT Kanpur Campus, is surrounded by different schools, a kindergarten, a primary school and a KV. I meet many of my ex-students while going and coming back from the school where I teach now. One day I ran into a KV student whom I had taught in DPS. She was not very eager to meet me and was trying to hide behind another girl. Since she happened to be the daughter of one of my colleagues also, I stopped to ask her how she felt about her new school and why was she so shy. She wished me with a grin. As we came closer, I observed her uniform. It was a pair of trousers and a full sleeves knee length kurta with Nehru collar. She also wore a waist coat, at 2 in the afternoon, on a humid July day.  Later her mother told me that how much she disliked her uniform. Senior boys also wore a big blue and red check with red collars and some more designing with red. Wonder how the KV students in the hotter places are coping up with this change.

KV has changed the uniform as a part of a ‘facelift’ to celebrate its fifty years. The ministry of textiles and National Institute of Fashion Technology (NIFT) have designed the uniform. I have yet to meet someone who liked the uniform. The good old navy blue and white is missed by everyone.

                                        

The Naming Game

When I see Dhirendra becoming Dhiren and Atindra becoming Atin, I realise that there are many who hate their names.I was happy to change a student's name from Devgiri to Mayank in the new session. He'll not have to carry the burden of an unwanted name throughout his life.

My sister is one of the victims.While enjoying a long drive in the lower Himalayas, once she told in a grave tone, " I wonder how could grandpa, a veteran astrologer with a sound knowledge of Sanskrit, give me a name as petty as Meena? Meenakshi would have suited me so well." I tried to console her by saying that it means, 'a colourful gem' or a fish (meen), which is not bad. Her disappointment multiplied manifolds when one of the kids in the car spotted a signboard on the way stating, 'Meena Bar.'

I have always been at ease with my name, though during most of my school and college life I was known by my different nick names. My games teacher who knew me for two years, stared me with wide eyes and asked, "You are Vandana, not Vandy?", while giving  the certificates for some event.

I was also convinced that I didn't have a very hap name as my friends had, like Anindita, Parul, Shalini etc. But I sympathised with  my Sikh female friends who had very masculine names as Upinder, Harjinder and even Rajender. On the other hand I loved Simran (before DDLJ), Mehar and Divjot Kaur.

As a child whenever I could get to watch a movie, I used to have this secret wish that the main character was my namesake. But it never happened, not even during the Doordarshan days. Then Youtube happened and I could watch all the movies I wanted to. I was so happy, for old time's sake, to see in one of  the super hits of Indian cinema, with Rajesh Khanna in the lead and gorgeous Sharmila Tagore sharing my name in Aradhana

Ganga Mela: A unique Holi celebration

Life in a Non Metro-3

When  for the  rest of India  Holi, the festival of colours, is a thing of bygone week and celebrations and Gujhiyas ( a sweet) are over, Kanpur is ready for the second round of  Holi  on Ganga Mela, with more fervor and enthusiasm.

Ganga Mela falls on Anuradha nakshtra, which is three to seven days after Holi.This Holi doesn't have the colour of mythology but of nationalism. The objects of worship are not our Gods but the heros of  National Movement for freedom during Quit India Movement.

During The Quit India Movement (1942) the freedom fighters  hoisted the tricolour on the day of Holi, declaring India free. It infuriated the British administration and the freedom fighters Ghulab Chand Seth, Hamid Khan, Shyam Lal Gupta (lyricist of ‘Jhanda uncha rahe hamara’), Amrik Singh, Raghubar Dayal Bhatt, Bal Kishan Sharma, Pitambar Lal and many more were arrested. 

The city which had witnessed Mutiny of 1857 was furious. People stopped playing Holi and demanded the release of all the freedom fighters. Seeing the protest, the British had to release them. The day of release coincided with the planetary position called Anuradha Nakshatra. Overjoyed people of Kanpur celebrated the festival the whole day and in the evening met at Sarsaiyya Ghat, on the banks of holy Ganges. The tradition is still followed with the spirit of patriotism.

The Campus I live in, has nothing common with the city it belongs to. When we came to Kanpur to settle down I didn't know about this post Holi celebration. It was just a bonus holiday for me, a working mom of two school going kids. But now I feel like urging the people to smear a little Gulal (colour) and take a dip in the ganga on my behalf too, as I salute all the heroes of our freedom struggle.

Sarsaiyya Ghat, Kanpur.

Circle of Desire: My entry for the Get Published contest

The Idea:

This is Vaishali's story. It begins with her journey of romance with life. Life gave her everything on a platter. I invite you to be her guest and walk through the meandering trail of her stream of consciousness and relate to her narrative, if you too are a woman and a dreamer. What does a woman want in a man? Would she be happy if she gets one? This is about the romance which bloomed during the pre-internet and Facebook days. When long distance relationships also worked. When Rudre's just a glance weakened her knees and created a storm in her chest. Why she worshiped Rudre whose only reality was his palette and brush and his career as a painter? His charisma was  intoxicating, which had a firm foundation of honesty.

And then there is a third corner of the triangle, Dhruv...

What Makes This Story ‘Real’?

Next morning, she was at the railway station with the team manager and the other girls. She saw Rudre coming towards her. She was not exactly waiting for him but was delighted  to see him. They talked for a while till it was time to part. They exchanged phone numbers and addresses. “Only to my pen-friends”, she had told when he asked her, “Do you write letters?”

She knew that he would make a wonderful friend. He too felt something similar. Looking outside the train window she laughed at herself, wondering how she could even like someone who wore a gold chain around his neck and was barely taller than her. Jewelry was a feminine thing and boys had to be tall like her brothers.

ndnote: This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India.