Name Plzzz...

He was not just a young hunk. He was a season in our Botany Department, in entire Rajendra College.

He was in final year M.Sc. and I had just entered B. Sc. 1st year. 17 years old new in that campus, still asking where Chem - Lab is?

On a winter college picnic, contineous accidents forced me to know his name, because he had smashed my right leg uncountable of times, unknowingly. After the 8th time he said, "Sorry dear, I have smashed your leg many times I think, but unknowingly." He was managing the whole picnic as Departmental Secretary. He told me, Keep my leg inwards, towards the seat.

I tried to secure my leg, but even after 10/12 times I got hurt again. Was his boot lukey to hurt my heeled leg?

I came to know he is the topmost guy in the department. Then to whom would I complain about the accident? Another darker, shy guy told me, " Dear sis, dont think he has a bad intense. He is doing his duties with full of responsibility. So he is in hurry, and hense the accident happened. You call me brother, Saroj Da." After that day he called me "Bani" - loving sister.

It was my first meet with him in January. After two month, in march again his breez moved. When he walked in the corridor, all girls forgot their practical records, PG girls fixed their eyes on him and even the lectures smile differently.

He was top in everything - exam, stage, grounds. All- rounder was a small word for him. Our HOD ma'am once said during a seminar, "God should give everyone a son like Manav," A PG didi replied on this, " if one has no son, only daughter then? "

"They should have a son-in- law like him," ma'am replied. Everyone laughped loudly and many seetis baj gayi...

They acted like it was a joke, but it was their inner true feeling was suffering to come out, and it came out. Even among professors and lectures there was competetion to show affection towards Manav Da... All department girls were dying over him.

And, I was just a new observer, knew nothing. I did not know, why seniors Didis looked at me with sharp eyes like I had stolen something. Why there was silence when I crossed the PG Block or classes. I was new, from different religion, trying to invisible.

It was a senior brother who finally said it near the Botanical Garden, " Do you know why they are jealous of you? "

"Who?"

"The one everyone's wants, looks at you when you pass." My blood went cold and hut at the same moment. I never had the courage, to look directly, at him after that.

But... But I felt the air change when he was around. My own heartbeat would sound too loud in that corridor. I was scared to face those senior Didis. What would I tell them? That we never exchanged a single word?

Like a thunder, the month of April came and the noticeboard declared the farewell. All happened in front of me and I was like a coma patient only. The direct chapter closed.

Now, I was 2nd year student. It was month of June, around 11 o'clock, I was entering the college premicess. Vicky dada came on a bicycle and stopped before me and told, " see, Manav Da sent us a letter yesterday. He is in Delhi for IAS preparation. One girl'name he mensioned in this letter. Take and see yourself. "

God!!!

I had no srength! I just stood like a stone statue. He told, " see, he has written - tell Sara that she has to do good in study. "

This much!!!!!

But it was too much not only in my eyes, but in the eyes of all studenents who knew about the letter. He was not in the college, but his shadow always chased me through everyone's eyes, words and behaviours.

I always tried to hide myself from them. What to reply if somebody ask anything about this topic? As I don't know anything. God!!!

But his aura had already made a soft corner inside me without permission. We became forever far. We never talked. Not once. No confession. No promise. No waiting. Nothing that the World calls love.

So why did I never find a male? Why does every proposal feel like a comparision. I am failing all purpose? Why am I still single?

I can't say I love him - How can you love someone you never spoke to? And I can't say he is not my reference - because he is. Always.

Now, when someone says the word "love", I don't think of red roses. A lightest pink color spread inside my chest, that never became red.

Not red, Red is for lovers who touched, who promised. Mine is just light pink. The first blush of 17. The colour of a corridor glance that never became a conversation. The corridor where love never spoke.

There was no knot, No vow, No waiting.

Yet that pink still there, untouched, unfaded, beautiful.

If you know what to call this feeling....

Name plzzz...