I started to walk up to my love. My legs automatically started to drift towards her as if some eldritch energy was pushing me from the back. I reached the point where Anjana was sitting quietly.
I sat near her. She looked at me but didn’t respond. I also remained quiet.
So, how were your results, she asked me dolefully after a few seconds.
Me- I am third.
She- Really?
Me- From the bottom mam!
She laughed weirdly.
I was chatting with her after a long time, but I still had the magic to make her laugh. The spots on leopards remained intact.
Me- So, how were your results?
She- I failed.
Her mournful voice itched my heart.
Me- In which subject?
Anjana- Subsidiary, Political Science.
Me- Doesn’t matter dude. Even Politicians of our country have failed in their schools and colleges.
Anjana- So what? I am not a politician and I don’t even aspire to be one.
Me- But you do aspire to become an entrepreneur and you know, the one thing that binds every entrepreneur is that they all were weak at studies. Zuckerberg, Steve Jobs, and others. Even Bill Gates had said that “one piece of paper doesn’t define my future”.
Anjana- You should join Politics. You are an expert at manipulating people and making them believe in your stuff.
Me-Okay, forget it, it happens.
Anjana- I have failed Rahul. How can I forget it?
Me- Look failure is not always bad.
Anjana- Oh! So, now you have uncovered some new theorem.
Me- No, it’s an old philosophy. Look, failure makes us more successful being because it keeps us informed about our weaknesses and this recognition and acceptance of one’s weakness in one’s life makes you the hero of your story.
Anjana- This line, you have said it earlier to me. If I can recount, this line is from the fiction book you were writing.
Me- Yes, it is from the book but it is hundred percent true.
Anjana- Okay, leave that. Is your book complete?
How could it be, without you? Every single page, every single paragraph, every single chapter, every drop of ink and every single emotion of my story was incomplete without you, you were my story, how could I write anything when you are not with me, I wanted to say.
No, it will take time, was all I could say.
How is your M.B.A preparation going? I asked.
It’s good. But, I am not getting good scores in the mock test, she answered.
Don’t worry, you have enough time. I’m sure you will crack the C.A.T, I said.
So, you have found me today to joke upon? she laughed.
No, I’m serious, I said.
Anjana- Okay, I have to leave now. I need to go now.
Me-Where?
Anjana- To the Himalayas.
Then take a shawl, it will be chilled there, I joked.
I am going hostel Rahul, she tried hiding her smile.
Bye, she said and went off.
I wanted to stop her, I wanted to talk to her, I wanted to ask her for a second chance, I wanted to renew our friendship but my senses were veering randomly and the brain was not working properly. No, it was not Brain tumor, it was love. The farrago of emotions that had domineered my entire psychology.
After two minutes, I stood up. I jogged towards the college gate almost emulating the way in which the three protagonists run outside the college gate in the Bollywood movie “Mohabbatein”. She had almost crossed the gate, to be precise, she was standing at the borderline of college and Purulia Road.
Anjana, I said in a high decibel tone.
She listened and stopped and so did Roy Sir. He was going towards the canteen but my loud tone made him look at me. He looked at me, for a moment, he reminded me of Amitabh Bachchan from the movie Mohabbatein. But, at the moment, I was not scared of him, the only thing I was scared of was losing Anjana. Teachers run institutes, but love runs civilization. Teachers build the society, but love sustains the society.
She stood outside the gate, I reached to her.
Yes, what happened? she asked.
Me- I am sorry.
Anjana- But, why?
Me- For what I said you on my birthday. I didn’t mean all those things I said to you in the restaurant. I had gone insane. I had turned imbecile and foolish at that moment. I know, I said things to you that were noxious and unpardonable but I still apologize for all those vicious words I hurled at you. Please pardon me.
Anjana- But, I have already forgiven you for what you said on that day. I know you were emotionally charged at the moment and it happens. I too suffer from these syndromes.
Me- No, you will have to pardon me now only. I committed a grave mistake.
Anjana-Okay, I forgive you. Happy? Now, I am going, Bye.
Me-Wait Anjana, can’t we be friends again?
Anjana- Look, Rahul, you are a great guy. I cherish the moments I shared with you. But, that was history.
But, history repeats itself Anjana. Please, don’t behave like a quintessential television character. I said sorry to you. If you want, I will publicly apologize you at any place you want. I am sorry, sorry, sorry. I repeated the word sorry in the same manner as the honorable Prime Minister repeats “Mitron” in his speech. My voice was apologetic and remorseful.
She went silent. I held her hands, she didn’t resist. I took her towards Hasty-Tasty. My sorry had worked. I felt like worshiping the man who discovered this word. It is not merely a five-worded letter but it is a magic broom. A magic that can renew the relationships, a medicine that can heel the pain. Sorry is a blessing which should be used more often by the Homo-Sapiens. So many relations can be saved by this five-worded letter, “Sorry”.
We entered the Hasty Tasty restaurant. We occupied the same place in the corner.
Why veg restaurant? Anjana asked.
I know you visit Pahari Mandir on result days, I replied.
She laughed hard, I joined in.