Broken hearts evoke a sudden interest or excitement such that no other topic can. From who is hooked to whom to who ditched whom everything is awfully hilarious as long as it is happening to someone else. This one is from my college days. There used to be two lovers association: one sided and multi sided. One sided were the frustrated, hopeless romantics who were refused by girls and they resorted to smoke and keep on ranting about the girls (same girls who kicked them). Multisided were a bit more optimistic and energetic ones, they were known for their shifting interests. They were not any better than their contemporaries when it came to cigarettes and drinks occasionally.  Drinks were opened on a rare occasion, obviously when generations were gathered. Occasionally, because girls had left them penniless, no one can afford foreign stuff with a girlfriend in hand. Though the two groups had very different philosophies, at the end of the day they sat together in college canteen and open out their heart. Their compositions were made available to us by our classmates. It used to be a secret meeting at night and everybody was expected to maintain the code of conduct of secrecy. But boys will tell everything to their “at moment” friend and girls can’t stop themselves from leaking out such things. It was an AIR sort of programme. The name “Broken Hearts Association” was given by me; I had nothing to do with these associations, so I gave them a new name. We Indians have got a habit of giving advice on issues that don’t concern us, I am no different. Don’t ask me how I conveyed it.

I remember a particular affair. College affairs are known to everyone. Except the two people involved, every one else from tea-boy to canteen manager to fruit seller on the road knows it. One fine night a senior of ours (Mr. R.D.) decided to propose the lady (Ms. G. G.), his batch mate. I don’t know why but he was not willing to go alone. He wished one of his junior should accompany him as his driver. He was not trying to pretend to be a royal heir as he had to borrow the scooter from his classmate. May be he was feeling insecure or may be shy. Finally my classmate agreed. A phone call came at 10.30 at night in the hostel. Those were the days when cells phones were not very popular. Ringing at girl’s hostel at night was a tedious task in itself. I was surprised why on earth he would call at this moment. He (Ranjan) asked for the lady’s phone no. We gave him after shuffling our diaries. Next morning Life Sciences Division was empty. The two “would be bridegroom” and his escort left; the honorable lady was ready with her brother and his friends carrying hockey, iron chains and sticks at the base of the hill. We, the juniors were on the stairs of the temple, same temple where I was caught having tea. Our tea-man, the thellawal changed the venue immediately, he was expecting some gang war.  Seeing a whole army down the hill Mr R.D. lost all his courage. Suddenly he forgot all those romantic lines he composed last night; I suppose he lost his memory too. He refused to go ahead. Ranjan, the driver was adamant, he refused to back out. According to Ranjan it would prove them coward above all it would be a shame to whole division.  The lady was from another division and we were rivals, there used to be a bitter competition between the two Divisions. They stood there for half an hour, Sir ready to run any moment and his driver insisting on carrying forward. My friend had no intention of playing the martyr for a stupid senior. There was a deal between the two. We were enjoying the scene at the stairs; some enthusiastic juniors even carried the camera with them. Finally we got a signal from Ranjan to leave. At canteen a party was arranged for us by the Groom. “Bride” was no longer the prefix. Occasion: no one bothered. Poor fellow, who dreamt of being the bridegroom, never came to know who leaked his information to the lady.

P.S. Just a time-pass post, I am not able to think  anything properly. Nothing is happening or a lot may be happening!!!