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Parmanu must be a freaking Nostradamus for he must have surely foreseen this coming. I admit to being bitten by the Alpha virus and take a walk down the memory lane of my insane childhood. Quizman’s colorful description of my experience with the S factor nevertheless chillingly accurate did spark some weird memories.
The name Sonali is not without meaning in my existence for its sole responsibility for awakening my hormones (the “good” ones). Long before the Bendre babe made permanent residence in my heart, I had this other XX-chromosome enabled human in my life….in the 4th standard. Yup, I developed pretty quickly.
It never is love at first sight for me and it wasn’t then either. I had just transferred from an upscale highbrow intensely-competitive school in downtown Mumbai to this pseudo convent-sounding school in dusty New Bombay. The nervous kid that I always was, it took me a while to calm my nerves and start making new friends.
I don’t really recall exactly when I saw her but I guess she stood out from the usual rambunctious females – an equally nervous shy but pretty thing with short hair and a smile to die for. Contrary to present times, destiny was mostly happy with me during those years and she was asked to sit right next to me. It was a part of our school experimental strategy for class control by making the opposite sexes bench together to keep the classroom decibel level low. It mostly failed because “bestest” friends now simply communicated by shouting across rows and there were more than share of complaints that originated with the guy calling his girlie benchmate a cry-baby and the cry-baby promptly responded by handing him a bunch of his hair.
But our bench was an epitome of peace. Nobel Peace Prize winners often cited our bench as an example of a perfect world. We exchanged homework, stood up for each other in case the other got in trouble. Trouble, for us do-gooders was mostly restricted to me forgetting my eraser and she lovingly offering me her own for keeps. Our relationship reached new levels when we shared our lunch and climbed (sunk?) higher when we played peek-a-boo during free periods.
She was maha-thrilled when I was elected…errr…selected the class monitor because I would not write her name on the blackboard even when she was caught talking, although she hardly gave me an opportunity to hand out such chivalrous favors.
I finally confessed to my brother, all of 7 years that I was going to marry Sonali when I grew up. Not to be outdone, he professed love for her sister, Monali, who incidentally was in his class. We giggled endlessly romanticizing the mess that house would be with two sisters. Damn! I sure was corny.
But like all good things, this too came to an end. I moved from the afternoon shift to the “prestigious” morning shift next year. My wails for not wanting to leave my present class for undisclosed reasons went unheard. Soon after, I left the school and never saw her again. Wait! In fact, I did. I met her one last time after couple of years accidentally at a friend’s place and she still looked cute. I honestly don’t know where she is right now, although I did hear from a good friend that she topped the school boards. Upon further prodding he admitted to having a crush on her. “Not your fault, dear friend” was all I could say.
So Ms. Sonali Vasaikar, wherever you are, I hope you are still as lovely and charming as you were a great friend to a scrawny nervous kid. And if you are no long a Ms., then hopefully your husband forgives me for playing peek-a-boo with you. I still refuse to have ever done such a corny thing in my life so I presume you must too.
by Patrix | on Wednesday, December 10th, 2003 at 7:59 pm | 
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