Yesterday Once More

A year ago, it was the hundred and twenty-fifth year celebrations of their alma mater at Delhi, and the one batch that had passed out many years ago decided that they should have their reunion along with the college celebrations. While there was huge enthusiasm in the WhatsApp group during the preparatory stages, when it came to calling the roll of people who were confirming to join the celebrations, the numbers dwindled drastically especially for the ones who were out of station. The whole plan fizzled out. A year later, there was a near consensus that the reunion would happen, come what may, and the confirmations were sent in by many. It was agreed that even if the numbers were not big enough, the party would happen. And, the much-awaited night had arrived. The venue was the college teachers’ common room that was booked on special request and the other arrangements of food, beverages, decorations and music were organized by a couple of local influential batchmates.

As per the invitation card, the time given was 7pm. One lady in a silk saree came in very early and just sat on the couch placed in the room while admiring the decorations including some old photographs of the batchmates taken during their tenure at college and the trip to Nainital. One picture caught her attention… it was the one taken on the last day of college when a small farewell had been hurriedly arranged. She tried putting a name against each of the people in the frame when a voice from behind shouted… Hi Rekha! She recognized the voice even after so long and turned to see Dhaval. Yes, he had turned old, some grey strands were still left on the balding pate… a thick frame over the eyes covered most of his face. He was casually dressed in a colourful beach shirt and a pair of jeans. What remained unchanged over the years was his gentle smile that said… here’s a good guy.

Rekha was so happy seeing Dhaval that she rushed to him with her arms open and gave him a warm hug. Dhaval was taken aback by her spontaneous show of affection for she was the, calmest, quietest and shyest of all in the class and he hardly could remember any instance in the past where Rekha had shown such emotions. He looked at her, smiled and said... That was some way to start a reunion. She shouted… Arrey Motu, you did not confirm in the group that you were coming?

You are right. After last year’s fiasco, I thought this year too it would be a damp squib but when I saw many signing on, I too booked my tickets.

We seem to have forgotten the time sense of Dilliwalahs and have arrived before time. I am sure they will start trooping in not before 8 pm. Let us walk around the college campus and see what all has changed.

That’s a good idea… let’s go.

The duo walked the college corridors and went to the first floor of the building where they had their classes. While the exterior of the building looked all spruced up with fresh paint the rooms looked pretty much unchanged except for the strong wooden benches which had given way to smart modular chairs with arm rests and the frontal writing piece. The rooms were all locked so they went out where once the hostel stood. A fresh modern construction was coming up. For the old timers who had lived the best part of their college days in the hostel, the thought of demolishing the old hostel was heart breaking. Later when the news got around, some even suggested retaining a small portion of it as a memorial.

We met our best of friends, had the best of times and turned from boys to men while living those three beautiful years in the hostel…, said Dhaval with sadness in his voice.

I am sure they will make a bigger and more beautiful hostel, one in which girls will also find a place to stay.

The two then walked towards the huge playground and sat down on a bench with cool winter breeze blowing and the stars shining on a clear night.

How have you been? It is almost forty years since we last met.

Yes… life has been good. No complaints. Forty years just went by moving from cantonment to cantonment and city to city, bringing up two girls and managing my world all alone the last twenty-six years.

The two got chatting with the cool winter breeze kissing their faces.

Although Dhaval had not met Rekha all this time, he was well aware about her life through some common friends. Soon after college, Rekha had married Dhananjay who was a year senior to them in college. Dhananjay also happened to be Dhaval’s room-mate in the hostel. People used to jokingly say theirs was the Dhak Dhak Room, because of the first three letters of their names and also the fact that the two were die-hard romantics. Dhananjay was the most sought-after senior in History for not only was he tall and good looking, he was also the topper of his batch. Junior girls would often reach out to him for his tutorials which everyone said they were the best in the university.

Dhaval, however, was in a world of his own. For him college meant playing cricket and trying to get into the famed college team which always had a couple of India capped players. Selection to the college team would mean visibility in the bigger arena so he could play higher level of cricket. He seldom attended classes and never bothered his senior room-mate for any help in studies. One day, Dhaval was sitting in the cafeteria with Dhananjay enjoying the special burger which was no more than a fried aloo tikki inside a big bun and a whole lot of ketchup on the round paper plate. She was a slim girl with short hair and wore a smart checked shirt over a pair of jeans. What struck Dhaval was her light eyes. She did not even look at the round baby-faced Dhaval and straightaway stood before the handsome man and extended her hand of friendship… Sir, I am Rekha Sharma from first year History Honours. I would like to borrow your tutorials on Chinese History for a few days and after making copies, I shall return them to you.

Dhananjay was quite used to such requests and, even without looking at her, he said, I have already given them to someone else. Check with me after a few days and if I have them then and you are the first to approach me on that day, I shall be happy to give them to you.

The girl looked disappointed and was turning away when Dhaval spoke to Dhananjay…Boss, de do na (Boss, just give it). I think she has to submit her paper in a couple of days. If I remember correctly, your Chinese History tutorials are still there in the file. You have given away the ones on Ancient Indian History.

Is that so? Ok then, Motu, go to the room and bring them to me.

Dhaval was very happy that he was of help to the pretty girl and her smile said it all. Being a spin bowler, he never had to run fast but today was different. He was running like the fastest man on earth then, Carl Lewis. By the time he came down with the tutorials, he saw Dhananjay and Rekha enjoying tea and sharing some casual talk. Dhananjay took the papers from Dhaval and gave them happily to the girl. He then asked Dhaval to get some snacks for the two of them and Motu silently did what his senior asked of him. While he was completely made to look like a Man Friday to the senior, Motu had now got a reason to go to the classroom. That made him happy and he knew he could be with Rekha much more than his senior, and the thought of it made him punch a hole in the air.

Dhaval tried going to the class but often found himself sitting in the last row while Rekha would be up there in one of the front rows. He dared not go up for the fear of the lecturer asking him some question and, more importantly, disturbing his intermittent naps. While all this was happening, Rekha was oblivious of his presence and was making it a point to go to the cafeteria everyday post the lectures and meet Dhananjay. After a cup of masala chai, they would go to the library and be there for hours together. Motu remained the silent admirer of Rekha and an errand boy to Dhananjay. Soon after college, Dhananjay joined the armed forces as per the tradition of his family, much to the surprise of all in the college where everyone had thought he would clear the civil services in his first attempt. Dhaval continued his life in college and university; he did his post-graduation for the namesake for all he wanted was to play cricket at the college level. He, finally, succeeded in getting into the prestigious college team and also made it to the university eleven. Thereafter, he got a job with the Indian Railways on sports quota and travelled from place to place. Rekha and Dhananjay soon got married but Dhaval was surprised that his senior did not invite him despite being the best of friends. Anyway, after forty long years, he had met Rekha that night. Dhananjay had been martyred in the 1999 Kargil War.

Rekha broke the long pause… I think it is time for us to head back to the party room. I am sure some folks would have surely come in by now.

Dhaval agreed and the two walked back to find the room full of people and they rushed in to meet the friends of old. There were excitement and laughter all around. Quickly the bottles were uncorked and glasses filled with sparkling wine and best of whiskey. For some it still remained good old lemonade and mojito. You could feel the energy in the room and after a while the music stopped and people sat down and a few took to karaoke and others to singing without any music. All the talent was pouring out as the spirits were getting downed. Sanjay clapped his hands a couple of times and asked others to listen to his important announcement…

Ladies and Gentlemen, now we will listen to some poems written during the college days and I had asked Dhaval to get the same old red diary he used to write with his pen in his beautiful handwriting. Only some of us have had the good fortune of listening to them before but who did he write them for is still a mystery to us.

What Motu and poetry? Since when?

Sanjay exclaimed… he is our chhupa-rustam …. Don’t you remember when the lecturer asked us all to write an impromptu answer to the question, What is History’? While all of us were struggling to quote from E.H.Carr’s book of the same name, Motu wrote a poem in those thirty minutes saying why we should not study history which the lecturer found not just amusing but quite extraordinary. So now, presenting the one and only Shaiyar-e-azam of our batch.

What followed next was… irshaad irshaad…by many giving a cue to Dhaval to recite.

Dhaval pulled out an old red diary from his bag and randomly flipped a few pages and read out some of his poems, each better than the other and all with a common theme… praising his loved one…. her beauty…her smile... her dreamy eyes and most of all expressing his intense longing of her. Each of the poems was written in chaste Hindi and if one were to close one’s eyes, it would be easy to get transported into the most romantic world of the poet. With every poem read, the applause grew louder. Everyone was exclaiming aloud their appreciation and Dhaval, for once, felt like a hero in the class where he was branded an outsider. Rekha was clapping but had a very worried look on her face. She had read these poems before. These were the same ones that Dhananjay had written for her during their courtship. He would give her as and when he wrote a new one. These were the letters that made her fall so deeply in love with the man. Dhaval is a fraud and a cheat! How dare he take credit for something that he has not written?

Once the reunion cake was cut, people ate food and started trooping out, Rekha walked up to Dhaval and sternly asked… Are you sure all these poems you read out are yours? Don’t you feel bad for lying… each of them was written by Dhananjay with his initial at the end. You must have flicked his diary. Give it back to me.  You are a loser and will always be one.

Dhaval smiled and, without any hesitation, handed the red diary to Rekha and walked away. Rekha opened the diary and saw the poems, the scribbles, sketches and scratches done while writing the poems and the same initial in Hindi at the end of each poem.  She wondered who the real ‘Dha’ was…her Dhananjay or the imposter Dhaval? Or was it the other way round? She sat down on the college steps, put her head between her palms and cried. Wished she had not come to the reunion.

SS