I was going through archives of my chats and mails in my accounts, which shot me to those lovely reminiscence....most of the mails were from the one and only intelligent dumbo on Earth...although I am very dreadful to write this post but somehow gathered enough courage to go with this brave act...the moment she reads all this I am as dead as a chick in tandoori chicken !!
At times if I sound philosophical or weird and you feel that....'this guy is sounding like Navjot siddhu in his pink tie and shorts , who has just realized that freedom of speech is our constitutional right and is using it to its worst '. Then better leave...Its not for you , but for the someone who is the subject of this post, someone who is very fond of spicy noodles, John Abraham, purple colour and tragic songs, someone who has more testimonials on her orkut than scraps, the someone who is a living wikipedia on C/C++ with short height, spects, and a cute giggling sound that can leave you dead...mhh mhh mhh (it more of sounds like hiccups at fast pace ) !!! she is or perhaps has been my best friend, I decided to dedicate few kilobytes of my blog to her and my friendship with her, so let me introduce you to the protagonist of this post...."The BIG P"...as she likes her to be called with....but I call her "GADHI".
This was my first venture in friendship...I don't even remember since when did she become my friend, I guess even much before I learnt to spell 'friend'. In one phrase she is the definition for 'friendship' to me. The story begins when we were in pre school classes sitting on same bench appearing for a class test, my dearest friend started to write with the worst fonts possible by hands , as she first wrote 'P' on the top of her answer sheet, I simply copied the same on my sheet, soon she wrote 'A' so did I, then 'L', 'L', 'A', 'V', I' followed, me too copied the entire set of characters in extra large fonts that we used in the darkest shades of gray possible by pencil, It was not very late that I realised its her name...."oh shit....that means my name gotta be there", I was intelligent enough to erase it and write my name instead, there after I followed her scribbling for the rest of the test :) !! I know you all would appreciate my height of intelligence and presence of mind but that was all I had in those days, anyways that was the time of pre schools...and by now I believe my brain muscles have developed a lot more than her's....isn't it pallavi !!
I remember her mom used to come with her blank copies to my home to get her incomplete work done but all she could get was another blank copy...."pal ishme meli koi galti nahi thi, muje toh naa yeh gadhi likhne hee ni detee ti aul naa khud liktee ti....". is ladki ne meri aisi aadat bigaadi ki aaj tak koi copy complete nahi rakh pata...no matter how hard I try....then there was a time when our class sections got changed and don't know for what the hell reason we became aliens to each other...I guess the ego or the fear of becoming the subject of those teen years gossip chit chats among class mates kept us like strangers for about 9 yrs, In midst of this long gap I tried to speak to her on many occasions but every time I failed. Finally one day in class 11, I broke the silence by asking for her assignment copy to complete mine....n this time she had an up to date assignments...the only common thing was her handwriting that was the same as in kindergarten like a chhipkali with ink dipped feet allowed to run through all the pages, who would like to copy the notes from a notebook written in chinese but for the sake of a last call to my lost friendship I tried it...finally I was glad to find that nothing had changed neither she nor our friendship...after this was the time when I got to realize that "yaaron dosti badi hi haseen hai, Yeh na ho to kya fir, bolo yeh zindagi hai, Koi to ho raazdaar, begaraz tera ho yaar....".
we are still very good friends but somewhere deep down the bonds have become weaker...from my end I guess I've lost my dumbo again but she denies it...I believe that friendship is like the relation between hand and eyes, when the hand gets hurt the eyes cry and when eyes cry the hand wipes, our friendship has been a fluctuation between and sometimes beyond crests & troughs of altercations and harmony...many a times I feel as if the eyes are crying but there are no hands to wipe....miss you dear...wish I could return to the same KG classes where there was no tension of assignments, no tiffs, no egos, no worries of class tests(at least for me) and sit beside my intelligent dumbo !!!
