Daffodils - Part II

I was all set to see the new colors of life awaiting me in the new city. I was stepping out of the house for such a long journey for the first time. The train, ticket checker, window seat, berths to sleep, everything was surprise.

Little did I know that I’d face the toughest facts of relationship. As we got into the train he asked ‘Are you comfortable?’ I nodded. Silence prevailed for next half an hour. He took out a book and started reading. ‘Let me know if you need something. We’ll buy food from the next station.’ He said. I had already packed his favorite curd rice. But I couldn’t tell him then. The silence prolonged for some more time and then he said ‘I know, no body would have asked your opinion before our marriage. The case is not different for me. I really don’t have anything in my mind other than cinema.’ I kept listening. He continued ‘I don’t believe in contractual love. True love is when two souls meet and when two bodies meet, it’s nothing but lust. On persuasion, as it happened with us, two physical objects met and it’s never two souls. We live in a convention driven society where there are no free thinkers. And if at all there any, they are stamped crazy or mad by the society.’ He threw the book down in frustration. People started noticing us. I was sweating by then. Train stopped at the next station and he got up to buy something for dinner. I told him about curd rice. ‘Oh!! That’s great and I like curd-rice.’ He melted. We had curd rice. Night fell. Both of us lied on our respective berths. I closed my eyes. Tears rolled down my cheeks. My love for him is ‘contractual’. I dint know when I fell asleep.

We were woken up by the tea vendors in Chennai central. He took me in an auto to a small rented house in Vadapalani. A bed room, a kitchen and a bathroom in 3 cents land. Basic amenities were present in the house. To my surprise I found the kitchen and bed room to be tidy. Reading my surprise he told me that he never stayed in the house. ‘There is a small house some 5 kms from here - Daffodils. The film crew stays there for all the discussions of the movie. And discussions go all through the nights. Today we have the pooja for the new movie. So I will go to the AVM studio and from there to Daffodils. There are lots of discussions to be made. So I may not turn up tonight.. Or I will try to come as you are alone here..’ ‘That’s fine. If you are busy with the work, carry on with that.’ I replied. With a half smile he said ‘You are bit different from the female characters in my scripts. Thank you for that’. I failed again to tell him that I love him as much as he loves cinema industry and is ready for anything to see him happy. I always enjoyed seeing him busy with his creative art.

In the initial days he used to come once in 2-3 days and with time it went as long as a fortnight. As I had nothing much to do at home, I started reading his books. Initially I had difficulty in understanding, but with time I too enjoyed the change in me. Even when he was at home, he rarely talked to me. And if at all he did, it was something on the related to the film industry. One day he told me that he was being awarded the best debut script writer. He had strange theories in such aspects too. He told me how much frustrated will he be on hearing the ceremonial addresses and the exaggerated appreciations during the award function. ‘I do the movies for my satisfaction.’ Cinema was not his profession but passion. ‘Today in the set, Rhagav sir scolded me for having said that I am not going to attend the award function. He said that I am too arrogant and that I had to respect the awards. I think I will have to go with him for the function tomorrow. Function is at 5 pm. We don’t have shooting scheduled tomorrow.’

The ‘D’ day arrived. I went to temple in the morning and he was sleeping even when I returned. I woke him up with the morning tea. We had breakfast and lunch together after a long time. Around 4 o’clock Rhagav sir came in his fiat car and picked him. He had told me that he would be back by 9.

I was becoming restless to see him come with the award. I had a nap in the -chair. ‘Tak-Tak.’ Some one was knocking at the door. It must be him. I sprang opened the door. As expected it was him and he was waving his hand to Rhagav sir. He turned towards me and smiled. I was surprised on his new gesture. He had a cover in his hand. He came inside and closed the door. I went two steps back. He then turned back and with a sigh said ‘Today I have won my first award. The industry that I loved more than anything in my life has honored me. But there is something that I overlooked. I know how much you love me and more than that I know how much hard it feels when some one ignores the love and worsens calling it contractual.’ My eyes wide opened on hearing that. He took out the memento from the plastic cover and put the cover down. He held my right hand. My body froze on that touch; he then placed the memento into my hand. The ‘golden lady’ idol which I had seen only in film magazines is now in my hands. I kissed the idol. I was in the seventh heaven. He came near, held my face in his arms and kissed me in the forehead. He raised my chin and kissed again. Moving a step back, he said pointing to the small show shelf ‘Lets keep it there’. I turned back, opened the glass cover of the shelf and kept it in the center. He walked towards me and hugged me from behind, moved my hair behind my left ear and kissed on the neck and whispered ‘You are my soul. I’m lucky to have you.’ And tenderly bit my ears. It was drizzling outside and the smell of wet soil added romance to ambiance. ’God is blessing us’ he said and lifted me in his arms and went to the bed. Placing me gently on the bed, he kissed me on forehead, then on nose and then l…

‘Shanti..Shanti’..Heard some one calling from outside and knocking heavily on the door. I woke up from my nap; I was on the easy-chair. The voice which woke me grew louder. I realized it was all a dream. I walked through the front room. Passed the empty shelf and opened the door to see half drunk Indrajith. Neither his eyes nor his feet were steady. He almost fell on me, and somehow managed to take him to the sofa. I was afraid to see him this way as I had never seen him drunk before. He fell asleep. My hands trembled and started sweating. Tears of helplessness rolled my cheeks. All through the night I sat beside him. Early morning he woke up and asked for water. After that he again slept. ‘Its there in daffodils. I kept it there.’ He told me next day morning when I asked about the memento. He had a treat from the producer of that movie. ‘That’s how I drank’ he reasoned.

As years passed, our standard of living improved. We bought a new house, a red fiat car. Award mementos heaped in a corner of Daffodils. He became a celebrated writer and director. And then he announced one of his dream projects to be produced by his guru, veteran director Rhagav sir. It was a year long project. He spent days and night on the project. He rarely came home during the project. Movie was in the lime light of media and film critics since its inception. The movie demanded more money than the budget planned. One day he came home for lunch and looked bit worried. When inquired, he told me that Rhagav sir is investing on the project out of the trust on him and the apprehension of the commercial failure always haunted him. Rhagav sir has already invested the total amount planned and the movie is only half away. He washed his hands after lunch and started from home. I wanted to lend moral support, but then again, I failed. Before my thoughts turned to words, the diesel car had started off.

By the time, the movie was complete; Rhagav sir had almost pledged all his hard earned personal assets for raising funds for the movie, hoping to make twice the investment. Through the course of the making, he earned more enemies than friends. And on a Friday the movie was released ….

To be continued….

Daffodils - Part I

“Today the Indian Film Industry in celebrating the 20th anniversary of the philosopher, intellect, genius, script writer, director ever born to the film Industry, a loss which nothing can make up. 25 out of his 30 movies acclaimed recognitions either at the National level or in the State level. A true example of unprecedented creative writer. A legend. We are now at the ‘Daffodils’, Indrajith’s hide-out house from where he gave birth to all his characters in the movie and where the vital discussion of all his movies used to take place. Even though he exposed the dark stories in common man’s life to the light in the silver screen, the motive of his suicide still remains in dark. Alarmingly he committed suicide from the terrace of the same building” Shamita Roy with camera man Ajay for Abc news.

A genius who jumped from the terrace of a single storey building to suicide. Even a fool wouldn’t attempt suicide that way, leave alone a genius like my husband. I am Shanti, Indrajith’s proud wife. The world did not question his suicide as the post mortem report had already revealed a tumor in his pancreas – a probable reason that convinced all his fans and the film industry of his reason for a suicide. But I know it was never a suicide.

Born to a lower middle class family in a hamlet in Palakkad district of Kerala, he wrote his first story in the school magazine when he was 8 years old. 2 years junior to him, I always admired him. Being his uncle’s daughter and a neighbour I grew up with him. Though I did not understand the depths in what he wrote, I always tore the pages of his article from the magazine and kept them safe in the old rusted suitcase where I kept my books. He always hated science and maths. Different from all the boys of his age, neither army nor engineering attracted him. Films had always fascinated him. He used to steal money from his father’s pocket and watch movies in a ‘C’ class theatre, the only theatre in the village. He used to write the stories of those movies, in his own perspective and then throw it away, even that finally took a place in the rusted military suitcase. In the initial stages, I used to understand everything he wrote, with time the depth in his writings took him to a different level, far beyond what I could make out. Still I used to keep all of his writings safe. After completing a one year course in film making, he was all set to go to Kodambakkam, Chennai, the paradise of all film makers then. His plans startled the entire family. His mother agreed to send him, only after his marriage. He objected the very idea and when it turned to be the bottle neck in the pursuit of his dreams, he agreed.
My father was already ready to lend my hand as they were financially better of us and no dowry was demanded. As for any other girl, it was a dream come true for me to live with a person whom I admire. In the presence of some close relatives we got engaged. He never talked to me even after the engagement and the reason was obvious. But I was happy that I could be with the one whom I loved from my childhood. Within a short span of a fortnight the marriage was solemnized. I still remember the first night. My hands were trembling out of nervousness. I sat on the decorated bed in the gaudy saree. Opening sound of the door made my heart tremble more. I held both my palms tight.
I raised my head, and saw him. He came inside and turning back closed the door. I began to sweat a bit, nothing unusual for a village girl. He came near the bed and sat next to me. After a long silence, he spoke to me. He asked ‘Do you know what an arranged marriage is? ’
I dint even have the courage to lift my face. With a sigh he himself gave the answer ‘Arranged Marriage is an unwritten contract, where you have to compulsorily fall in love with your partner. You don’t have a choice. I dint ever think that I too would be trapped in this’ I opened my palm and looked at the mehandi design. ‘Women want lot of sex with the man they love, while men want a lot of sex – these are not my findings, but of Anne Moir and David Jessel’ he continued. Those words seemed too big for a village girl like me to digest. ‘But I have always loved you, right form my childhood. I admire you. It’s a dream that is cherished today’ the feeble voice within me mumbled loud enough that only I could hear. I don’t know what stopped me. I couldn’t ever express the love I had for him. He took the pillow keeping it between us and placed himself in one corner of the bed and I took the other.
Few days went like this without much conversation and after a week I saw him packing his things. I stood near him without uttering a word. He took the suitcase and a bag and said ‘I am leaving for Chennai’. ‘When will you come back, when will I be joining you. Please sent letters’..a volley of statements fired within me..but all I did was to nod. I knew he never loved me. He started off from home at around 7 pm, as I took 2 hours to the nearest railway station from our village. Few months passed by without any letter from him and there was no means to contact him. One day after lunch, the sound of a cycle bell surprised me. I looked through to window. Yes, it was the post man. I wanted to run out to collect the letter, but women are not allowed to come out of the house when other men have come. He handed over a letter to my father-in-law. He opened it. I started biting my nails. He took the letter on one hand and went in search of his spectacles. After a while he found them and went to his room and closed the door. I waited for a while and patience in me died. I took a broom and in the pretext to clean his room, I knocked the door. The door opened and I started to broom. Uncle was still reading the in-land letter. Seconds crawled like hours. And finally when I was about to leave, he said ‘This is letter from Indrajith. He says he is fine’. With all the courage I asked him ‘Shall I have the letter.’ He handed over the letter. I flew from the room. Lied on my bed and closed my eyes for some time. The letter was addressed to his mom and it read ‘I am fine here. I’m staying with a friend in a lodge in Kodambakkam. The rent is Rs.200 per month. I am assisting director Rhagav. His current project is almost complete. He liked one of my stories and his next movie is on my script. ’ I read those lines 100 times. My husband’s name will come on the silver screen and the whole audience would watch it. And towards the end in the letter he said ‘Convey my regards to Shanti’. That made me sleepless for several nights to come. I looked for the ‘From’ address on the back side of the in-land letter and it was blank. Even if it wasn’t I wouldn’t have the courage to write letter to him.
One day uncle came home early after his visit to fields and seemed bit excited. He had a news paper in his hand, probably taken from the village library. He came in haste and called me and aunty to the front room and read the news aloud ‘paathira sooryan (Midnight Sun)’ bags the award for the best film. Veteran director Rhagav credits the victory to the debut writer and his former assistant Indrajith’. His voice quivered and couldn’t proceed and I saw aunty wiping her tears with the piece of her saree.I hugged aunty so that uncle doesn’t notice my tears. I could not control my self. My hero, the short story writer has drafted an award winning movie. The news paper cutting added to my collection.

My excitement crossed the limits when I saw him next day morning. The first visit after one and half years. He looked the same. I felt like hugging him and kissing all over. But let me first gain the courage to look at his face. I went to the front room, gave water to wash his feet before entering the house. And he gave his bag. I felt honoured and kept in room. I was longing to hear the story of the movie. As I dint have the guts to ask, I raised it through aunty. Serving a coffee, she asked him, ‘Indu, why don’t you tell us the story.’ He was busy writing something in his room which was flooded with books; I sat down below his chair. He started of with the story and soon aunty interrupted ‘See..Indu lets stop. I don’t understand all these things.’ It was not different for me but then I loved listening to him. Through aunty I asked him to take me with him as he was planning to leave for Kodambakkam the weekend. And he agreed.
-- To be continued

Pulse Circuit Class:

After a week of negotiations, Sree finally agreed to give me space for one more post in his
(otherwise blank )blog. About the comments,

Remya : Shikha is too morose to write about. Keeping aside the smiles that we share in proximity, We don’t have any warm feelings for each other. (After all I am not Sreenath to write stories on lost love).

Rajiv : I accept, Sogy is unprecedented in her serious comedies.

Venkat/Deepthi : Thanks for your comments. I presume you both are his colleagues. I admit that he has unique writing style, but only while giving exams. His answers don’t have much relevance to the questions asked.

Now let me tell you a memorable Pulse Circuit lecture hour..

Pulse Circuits:

Semester 4(and we call it as S4). First day of Pulse circuits class. Sallu was behaving differently to me, not because I dint tell her about the new salwar I bought last week, but she came to know that from Reshmi. I had already planned to spent the whole day in class in justifying this. But my last ray of hope rested on Rajiv, who is a maestro in solving the disputes between girls. My justification was interrupted by the entry of Our Pulse Circuit sir. An exception to all government staffs; he entered the class room on time. The decorum of the class just before him entering was no better than a fish market in kerala or t-nagar in Chennai or chudi bazaar near Charminar.

He was young, around 5’7’’, round faced, fair, thick mustache (which was one of my greatest weaknesses then) . Dressed up in half sleeve white check shirt and plain black trousers, the label on which read ‘indigo nation, he was handsome. He reminded me of the mannequin in front of Maharaja’s textile near town bus stand.-

His eyes were lit up with enthusiasm sufficient for us to make out that he is a fresher in the field of teaching. He started the class with mutual introduction. He said ‘I am Krishna’ from ABC engineering college in Tamil Nadu (All engineering colleges are abbreviated to 3 alphabets and in TN there are plenty of them. So let me chose the first 3, which does not have any thing to do with my story).

Each one of us stood in our place to give our name, school and entrance rank(I hated him for this. Why the hell are people obsessed still with the result of an exam which happened 2 years back..). And then, Krisha sir said, ‘Ok let us begin the pulse circuits class.’ He took a chalk piece , turned towards the black (rather grey)board and drew two parallel line and joined them at the top, and asked us, ‘what is this ??’ The moment he asked the question, with the discipline of a Nazi soldiers my 3 bros, Sunny, Vibhi and Shafiq kept head on the bench uniformly, as the heads did not have the answer and raising it high would invite trouble, Rajiv started writing down some notes, Sallu put her pen down and in the pretext to take it she went below the bench and ..I was quite sure that she wouldn’t come up until somebody answers the question. Reshmi was busy taking down some notes, even when the Krishna sir was standing like a statue, and more importantly she turned her page and started writing in the next page!!! ‘When some body asks a question and if you don’t know the answer, never look at the questioners face’..the theory goes without saying.. I went by that law..I helped Sallu in searching her lost pen. Suddenly, he turned towards Sreenath and said, ‘You’. The moment the question was raised, Shikha closed her eyes and started chanting, may be something that would save her beloved friend from this tough situation. Sogy moved towards Smitha and said ‘Whats the big deal..its a inverted bucket..’ ’shhh…’Smitha replied…’No I think it’s a big PI symbol..’sogy made a come back..

Sreenath slowly stood up..And I was quite confident that, he wont answer. Rajiv stopped writing, Reshmi looked up for the first time from her book, Sallu came back to her seat after her underground research.

‘Well’..he started..as if he knew lot about that diagram.’It looks like a square without the 4th side’. Abominable lull captivated the class. Startled by the answer, sir said ‘what ?? can you repeat ???’ For the first time, I felt sympathetic for him. Overpowering with confidence he said ‘what I was trying to say is that in geometry, you call a closed sided figure…’ ‘this is a signal..’ Krishna sir interrupted. The answer was the first ever blow in his career. I must say it was a mighty one to start with. Sogy was gloomy that her answer too was wrong. Krishna sir had planned to move from the pulse signal to transistors and from transistors to the actual topic ‘Multi-vibrator’. But now he decided to skip the intermediate steps and kick started to the topic. He wrote the topic on the board and then kept the chalk below the topic and unknowingly he underlined the word ‘vibrator’ which made all the boys to spring up on to their toes. To their dismay he drew the circuit diagram with many transistors and said ‘This is mono-stable Multivibrator’. Don’t why he loved the black board more than us. Yeah..love is blind..I forgot.. He always turned to the black board and mumbled something. All of us resorted to our activities. I was resolving the ‘new-salwar’ issue with Sallu. Reshmi taking breaks, only to turn the pages of her encyclopedic notebook. Rajiv hyper excited on his finding that Sandhya has bought a new hair clip And Sreenath looking at Shikha so carefully as if he had to record the number of pimples on her face. We had 15 mins break after this class, which Sree, utilized to ask some doubts to Shikha . His face reflected the song he that he sang in his mind‘pal pal pal pal har pal har pal….kaise katega pal har pal har pal’.

75% of the class were in there own world, 10% were regular absentees and the rest 15% includes Shikha , Sogy, Reshmi, Sabi, Manu, Retheesh and few others. Whenever sir paused ‘Any doubts’, Rajiv had a ready made question ‘can you please explain the last circuit diagram once again..’ Class went smooth without any hiccups for 50 minutes, before he concluded the session ‘So today we learned the concept of multivibrators. And I think I am done with today’s class. ’ The words we longed to hear from time he entered the class’. ‘Any questions ? ’ Pin-drop silence for 20 more seconds.’Ok then let me ask you few questions’ Grave yard silence again conquered the room. Sallu kept the pen ready to drop. 3 empty heads behind me dropped again. Before I could watch few more gestures, ‘Who can explain me the complete working of monostable multi-vibrator’ He was confident that no one would give the answer..so his conscience asked him to reframe the question ‘..hmmm..no let me make it simpler…’ keeping his hand on one part of the transistor, and said, ‘now.. when the voltage increases here on the base of this transistor, how would transistor T2 behave???’ He turned towards Reshmi.She said ’Sir, when the voltage increases the current will…’

He interrupted ’Just tell me, will the second transistor be switched ON or OFF’. She said ‘hmm..’ taking 10 more seconds to think and finally said ‘OFF..no..ON…sorry..OFF.. OFF..hmmm..ON..ON….saturated…cutoff…no..ON’. in the 30 seconds she gave almost all possible states of a transistor which she could think of... The second blow in sir’s career…I felt sorry for him. Disappointed he turned towards Rajiv, who had asked him to explain almost all the circuit diagrams twice. ‘OK come on you…’ Rajiv opened his girlish lips for first time to give a technical answer…and said ‘Ooo..’comtemplating for 10 seconds..Sir blurted..’Excellent..it wil be switched OFF’..All of us were surprised..How could his dumb give the answer ???. Sreenath’s mouth wide open to engulf titanic..Fixing the eye of Rajiv, he again posed the second question ’now tell me what will to the transistor T1, current increases in the base of T2???’ Rajiv again opened his mouth to say ‘O’.Sir went ecstatic ’said yes…its gets switched OFF’. The first award and the first blow for Krishna sir happened to be from his first class. Whole of the class went mesmerized. God heard our inner voice and sir said ‘OK..let us meet tomorrow..’ and the bell rang..he went out of the class.. Sreenath, I and Sallu went near Rajiv to know how could he answer..’How could you..man…’ I asked..He said ’see..the transistor can either be in ON or OFF stage..and both of the states start with O. and I just said O..and sir completed..’ he humbly replied and set an example of smart living..what an idea sirji !!!…

A Realistic Fiction !!

Thanks to Sreenath for giving me a place to write in his blog. I am Remitha and people call me Remo, one of Sreenath's close friends.May be the 99th in his list of 100 friends :). One among the 5 million IT force in India. When he asked me write one post in his blog, thought for a while and then told him that I would write something from my heart and here goes my story :

A Realistic Fiction !!

May, 2008 : Early Morning (9.45 am) in the weekend:

The day was special for me. I woke up bit early to Tring..Tring...Tring..Tring...
ring tone, rather noise of my roomie's(the 85 kg weight conscious Pinky's) mobile phone.
A contemporary mallu who does all the sins in the eyes of a metro attitude girl like me....wakes up early morning 6.30, brushes teeth before having the tea, takes bath before break fast, does not 'even' flirt. Its now easy to describe me. Sparing the fact, that both of us are girls and we both are from Kerala, we are just opposite in all other spheres. She was busy running on the treadmill. That poor machine always had a soft corner in my heart. The treadmill was tortured so much that, I wouldn't be surprised, if one fine morning the treadmill turned to be a beautiful princess after getting salvation, like what happened to Ahalya in Ramayana. As the shrill ring tone pierced my ears drums, I yelled from my bed..'Pinkyyyyyyyy..you and your bloody mobile...keep it near you..'
I hate when I am disturbed from sleep. To intensify my wrath, she asked me to see who it was, as if she was in some important meetings with the CEOs of the top 100 'most admired companies'.I controlled my anger, as I dint want adrenalin to kill my sleep causing enzymes or hormones(whatever..my medicine entrance rank was larger than the pin code of my examination center..). I took the Nokia N91 silver coated mobile phone in my right palm. Looked at the screen with one eye open. The wall paper was Pinky posing with her boy friend. 'It is from Sanjana', I said in a cold tone. Pinky stopped the treadmill. The ambiance that you get when the rice mill operator stops the engine. She came out of the treadmill(of course, swearing
me for not asking Sanaja what the matter was...). Sanjana was her class mate in college. With whom she shared everything, from the bench in the class to the secrets in her heart.
'Hi Sanju..Tell me da..whats up there ?'
'Can you please go out and talk..I want to sleep' I said. She left the room. I battled with my sleep expediting enzymes/hormones. I could not sleep though i kept my eyes closed. She came back after her quick byte session. She saw me 'sleeping' and mumbled, 'Lucky girl..No one to distrub her from her routines..No close friends..'
No close friends..No close friends..No close friends..The words triggered the turmoil in my mind. Had she given the statement two years back, when I was in my college, I could give a list of at least 25 names of my close friends.

Eyes closed I went back to my 'good' old college days...always roamed with the
group of 5- Sunny, Sajila(I call her sallu), Shafiq, Vibhi and I. I used to sit with Sallu and Reshmi on either sides of my seat. Reshmi, was a moving library..Her notes book collection often put our department library to shame, in terms of the contents. She equally
famous among the juniors and seniors and her entry to the library was often compared to elephant in the sugar cane field.

Sreenath and his dear dearest friend (rather wife), Rajiv used to sit in the bench towards my right. Sreenath then always had stubble and felt himself to be Shahrukh in Chak de though I must say, he was no better than the hockey stick that Shahrukh uses, a thin, fair fellow with an air of superiority always around him (He will be regretting now to have given me a chance to write in his blog..he he..dude..it happens.. ).
Rajiv was always keen on two things, one show off and the other girls. He had good track record of what all nail polishes, hair bands, sandals etc etc that we girls use.
Sreenath had a very close friend in our class, Shikha. 152 cm tall, with long plaited hair, always used to sit in the front bench. I disliked her for two reasons. One she always pretended to be innocent and two Sreenath always used to tell good about her. Next to Shikha, sat Sogy, who more or less resembled the teddy bear that is there in my show case. Sogy was too intelligent that she dint know that 'quantum' and 'cond**' were different things...how far is 5 kms...when is next week..where few of her famous questions.
In the seat behind Rajiv's sat Sabi - typical mallu, with all useless morals and a die-hard fan of play back singer Sujatha. Can you belive he e-mailed Sujatha, her first song that she herself dint have a copy of. I had totally ignored all these people as none of them were yo-yos like my Sunny/Vibhi/Shafiq.

Sunny..handsome..rich...good singer..ramp walk model..dancer..cricketer..renowned tennis player..my elder brother..
Shafiq..handsome..friendly..cute..selfless friend..my real brother..
Vibhi..A kerala purushotam..good classical singer..tall..my younger brother..
I used to complain that god never gave me a brother, as I had only a sister..after meeting them i thanked god..coz he gave me three brothers in a row..I felt my gang to be the most elite ones ever formed in the history of our college.

Sreenath, I am sorry I cannot complete my story in a single post, so please leave some space for me to write more..

More to come...