The Random Express

The Oohs, Aahs and Ouches

1995. What a great year it was! That was the year when a lot changed in our lives. Countdown shows started on Doordarshan, the World Trade Organisation came into being and Golden Eye took Hollywood by storm. Another storm blew in our class…that of love.

For the first time, our two sections were merged and we became one class. It was an uneasy equation at first, but things settled down soon. But no one thought that things would move so fast from there.

Since we had reached class 8, we had to make critical choices of subjects. Some chose Hindi as the second language, while some others chose Assamese. Some like me also had to bear the ignominy of not being able to go with the flow and choose Advanced Mathematics - a move that supposedly sounded the death knell to my career (that’s what my tuition teacher had told me in angst when I disappointed him by choosing Additional Geography).

Some other choices were also being made - that of a mate. Nayi nayi jawaani thi…pyaar to hona hi tha!

The buzz had started very early that spring in the class that something was cooking between Sourav Deb and Koustovi Das. Some of us would spend period after period playing the ‘he loves her, he loves her not’ game but still we were not sure what exactly would come off it.

Unknown to everyone, another heart was beating. But alas, it would only earn disgust in return. It was Pritom Gogoi (referred to as Mir Jafar in a previous post) who hopelessly fell for Sunanda…and later, Pranali.

I was lovestruck, too! I had a newfound love in poetry. And I did a lot of experiments with verse. All that resulted in some masterpieces of all times - Sher-e-Murder, Sher-e-Test-tube baby, Sher-e- Kentucky Fried Chicken (it was in news those days for all the wrong reasons)…the list is quite long.

Sunanda used to sport a red hair band those days, quite ignorant of the fact that it was having an electrifying effect on Jafar’s heart. Then one day, he made an open declaration of his true feelings with the line that will go down in history as one of the immortal lines ever quoted by students of Don Bosco School - Laal pari mera dil le gayi. When Sunanda came to know about it, she felt so humiliated that she cried (I’m yet to figure out why our girls cried so much those days even when someone complimented them). A rude exchange of words (with some help from Sandeep Singh Galle’s muscle flexing) silenced the matter. A promising tale of one-sided love was nipped in the bud (sigh).

Then one fine day, the unthinkable (really?) happened. Sourav Deb locked himself up in the classroom with Koustovi and poured his heart out to her. This moment of truth was witnessed by many of us Peeping Toms, who also hooted when Leofric told his Lady Godiva how much he loved her. Godiva said yes, and our chhotti si love story began on a promising note. The only unhappy soul around was Jafar (I think), for he shared Deb babu’s bench as well as his tiffin and now had to contend with the idea of a souten.

It was an hour of crisis for Jafar. He had to think on his feet. He needed someone. If not Sunanda, then let her be her best friend, Pranali.

Well, to be honest, I think it was a tad unfair on the poor boy to be ridiculed as a ‘lover boy’ when his only mistake was liking someone from his own class. Nevertheless, his public ridicule ensured that he steered clear of Pranali’s way. This tale, too, didn’t go far.

While all this was happening, a bomb had exploded in our class - a new hottie had joined us. Manaswita Sarmah was a fresh export from Carmel School and quite an eye-catcher. The explosion resulted in a thousand splinters piercing the hearts of Pritom Bordoloi and Prakash Hazarika.

(to be continued…)