LOGROS POR CONJUNTO

nother name had been added to my list of good friends: Beena. People would see the three of us hanging out in the canteen, in the classroom, in labs, almost everywhere. We were an awesome threesome.

Beena always left college before Bhavna did. Like Bhavna, Beena was staying with her family as well. Beena was understanding enough to give Bhavna and me some space. Because of this, Bhavna and I had enough time together. Thanks for your generosity, Beena.

Yes, those were lovely days; and if you are in love, then nights are happier than days. The magical sound of violins seems to be playing all around you. I’d also been upgraded from my cycle to a Scooty. My Dreamliner was fighting the natural oxidation process of rusting. However, Bhavna’s Scooty now had one more passenger. It became our chariot to explore the picturesque beauty outside our campus.

We had overcome the monotonous habit of saying ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ after two years. Now we were into exchanging some more romantic declarations such as ‘love you’ and ‘miss you’.

The first year examination results were out. My girl stood 3rd, Akansha 2nd and Beena 8th. I also secured a rank, but it really doesn’t seem worthy of mention. I was grateful that I had proposed to Bhavna before the exams results; she might have never agreed to be in a relationship after such a disaster.

The second year had also passed but I managed to keep my performance consistent. Bhavna had somehow managed the 3rd rank in class, which was a difficult task for a girl who spent most of the time in the canteen rather than in the labs. She used to offer her support and lend her notes not just to me, but also to my friends. By this time, my friends had become dependent on these notes and treated Bhavna like a guardian angel.

Bhavna used to share her concern and discuss our future and careers. But I never paid heed to her. I found myself lost in her beauty, which took my breath away.

I wanted to touch and feel her, but every time I attempted to steal a touch, she playfully stopped me with a blushing smile and said, “Control, Pandeyji, we are just more than friends.” Listening to her ‘Control Pandeyji’, I always felt more uncontrollable. Sometimes I felt she was too idealistic, but that was the consequence of loving a saint.

Almost all my hostel friends had soul-mates now. Gaurav was in a relationship with Niharika, Dipendra started going around with Somya, and Arvind was with Kavita. Friends, you’ll not believe this, but all of them are now happily married couples. Anyway, back to the story.

In February, during the fifth semester of our third year, Bhavna came to college with a pink nose. Whenever she cried, her nose turned pink. She looked very cute even while crying. I guessed easily that she had had a bad night. Twice she broke down into little sobs during the lecture. She avoided making eye contact with me to hide her tears. She made some excuses and went to the washroom. It really killed me to see her sobbing like that. I wanted to bunk the last lab but Beena wanted to attend it. So I left her to enjoy the circuits and signals.

Bhavna and I went into the college canteen. The canteen was the favourite hangout of all the lovers. It was the only place where lovers could spend many hours after only ordering tea worth three rupees. I did not know whether the uncle running the canteen was making money or not, but it was always house-full during our college days.

“What happened Bhavna?” I asked in a concerned tone. “I can’t bear to see you like this.” “How much do you love me, Ajay! You always notice me,” she said in a very low voice.

“Thanks for understanding my love. Now may I know why my darling is so sad?” We had gone from being ‘Ajay’ and ‘Bhavna’ to ‘sweetheart’ and ‘darling’.

She didn’t say anything; her throat had choked up and her nose had turned red now. She was looking pretty, but it was not the time to be distracted by her alluring looks, so I said, concerned, “Feel free, dear. I’m up for anything.”

She burst into tears and sobbed, “Ajay, I love you. I don’t want to lose you.”

Goosebumps covered my body. I asked, baffled, “So sweet, my darling. But, please, don’t cry.” As I consoled her, I realized a bizarre fact of life; the more you request a girl not to cry, the more she will cry.

“My family is totally against love marriages and those kind of things,” she said and sobbed again.

“Tell me in detail.”

“Papa got to know about one of my very close relative’s affair and he proactively warned Poojadi and me, that he would not tolerate any such thing in our family. The situation at home is extremely awful.”

She began wailing, again.

“Hold on, Bhavna. In between of all this, where is the question of leaving me?” “Well …” she said and started sobbing “…seeing things at home I’m thinking…”

“Go on, Bhavna. Spit everything out; I can understand what is going on inside you,” I said, anxiously.

“Nothing could be more grievous and unfortunate for a parent than their child going against them,” she said with great difficulty.

I desperately wanted to hug her, console her, but hugging in IERT was taboo. I said, holding her hand. “No need to say anything, Bhavna. I understand. You’re thinking of sacrificing your love and relationship for your family.”

“Sorry Ajay. Please try to understand me,” she said.

What is there to understand? I don’t know. I was puzzled. Sometimes her saintly behaviour

made me faint.

“So this is a breakup meeting between us?” I questioned. She nodded with her eyes full of tears. “So, that was all your love for me.”

My comment touched her heart. She replied, “I love you, Ajay. The tears that have been falling from my eyes are proof of that,” she said gloomily. “Ajay, if we cannot sacrifice anything for our family, then we cannot love anyone.”

I know I am biased for her, but her germs of being a good daughter always stop her from being a good girlfriend.

For a few seconds, I felt numb. So far I had only known how serious she was about me. So I could understand what she was feeling. But this decision of hers had earned her my immense respect.

I decided I would never leave a girl who was so nice and ready to sacrifice her love for her family. I softly held her hand and pulled up her chin.

“Bhavna, you are an excellent daughter. Every family should have a daughter like…” I was about to finish but she cut me short without listening to me.

“Ajay, I don’t have a brother. Our parents have always treated us like their sons. I can’t ever leave them. Sorry, Ajay. But, leave me.”

“How can I leave you when you are in trouble?” She frowned and I said, “I would have left you, if you were involved with someone. But I can’t leave you during this tough time.” I felt like a romantic hero.

These Hindi movies have spoiled many Romeos. “Now, answer me. If your parents can be convinced and they approve of our match, then would you mind marrying me?”

“If they agree, then it’s gonna be the best day of my life,” she said blissfully. “So leave everything to me. I’ll convince your father.”

“Ajay, I know you are a persuasive person, but you don’t know my family conditions.” “But, you know me.”

“And my mother?” she said like she was a child negotiating for a toy. “Yes. I’ll convince your mother, too,” I smiled.

“But how, Ajay? How…?”

Suddenly, Beena came into the canteen. She had also noticed that Bhavna had been tense. She had finished her lab work and had come to console her.

“Hi, Beena. Bhavna is asking me how I’ll convince her parents about us,” I grinned. As a third person arrived, the air changed. I realized that day that sometimes even couples shouldn’t be left alone.

“As Bhavna already said, I’m the most persuasive person in the whole world. But she still wants me to explain how I’ll convince her parents,” I relayed to Beena.

Bhavna remained silent and to lift her mood I said, “Let’s play a game. Beena, just pretend that you are Bhavna’s father and I’m Ajay, Bhavna’s husband-to-be coming to convince you to let me marry Bhavna.”

Beena just settled down on the seat opposite me and Bhavna sat beside me. Beena and I acted out the scene. I requested, Beena, “Uncle, I’m here to marry your daughter. I love her a lot.”

“Nowadays, I know children don’t listen to their parents,” Beena said. I watched her, aghast, hardly knowing what to say. Her statement seemed to have pained Bhavna even more.

“Uncle, I’m feeling hungry,” I said to Beena.

“Oh Bhavna, mehmaan aaya hai…a guest has come home, please bring something to eat,” Beena said. I made Bhavna bring us some cutlets. As Bhavna went to get them, I conspired with Beena.

“Beena, you have to get convinced easily. I’m not here to marry your daughter, okay?” “Okay, Ajay. Understood,” Beena whispered.

When Bhavna returned, we started up again.

“Uncle, please give me your daughter’s hand, since I’ve all the qualities to ensure a good marriage. Apart from having a fair complexion, I already have a job and am moreover not going to ask you for a dowry. My proposal is totally free.”

Bhavna laughed. She looked amazing, her nose pink and her smile cute and dimpled. ❖

That same day, I spent some time talking to myself in the boys’ hostel.

Mr Romeo Pandey, it took ten months to win Bhavna over. Convincing her parents would at least require a decade. And what about your parents who chant God’s sermons all the times? For them, caste and religion are just like oxygen and blood. You’ll need centuries to convince them about an inter-caste marriage. You’re in for a lot of trouble, Mr Pandey. Welcome to the crazy world of love.

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