My Grades...

THE RESULT
(Based on true incidences of life…)

Success isn’t sexy. It is not a fantasy. Rather it is a tempting process that makes you work like an ass for day and night to get your dazzling dream come factual. When our grades appeared in, my classmates asked me about my secret sauce to success. If I knew it I would be the university ranker. Still I managed to say that if you possess a true heart and a noble helping hand, you won’t fail any day. My feat was no larger than life. I mock some of the guys around us who go on bluffing that they are the best. I have pity on those guys. When I wake up in the morning, I slowly hiss to myself that ‘there is no one better than you out there. Those who drink never taste. So go grab the world. Be a guided missile to your target and blast every thing around’. I just want to share a heart rendering incident with my readers. Here it goes…

I was with my old school group. We were two boys and two girls comprising the ‘Fantastic Four’. I christened this to our cluster as it suited the guys and gals involved in. We were at the Subhash bridge terminals, Amul Parlor. Every one of them unanimously said ‘Party!’ I ordered two extra large pizzas without knowing their consent. They grumbled and said that they had their lunch an hour ago. The pizzas pinched my pocket hard. I wished I could do some damage to Italy from where this crap came. The pizzas appeared within 15 minutes. They were buffered with 9 pieces out of twelve. One of my friends was going to throw them in the dust bin. I snatched it from him and stepped out of the parlor. Every one was bewildered. I gave away the left pieces to the street children. They were three. Everyone was selling something or the other. Some one was selling rakhis; the other one was offering tri colors. There was a smile on their faces that made me felt how turbulent my feat was! Our group stepped out. We commenced towards the bus stop. Seeing this every college gofer at the bus stand began to buy some sort of things from them. They bought those pirated novels and tricolors in a bulk. We were seeing the sight.

30 MINUTES LATER…

All of the three street vendors came to us. There was a sense of gratitude in their eyes. They gave each of us a tricolor. One of them said,’’Shukr guzari’’. I hastily zeroed the fact that he was a Kashmiri Muslim. The other said,"Dhanyabaad’’. My Bengali friend shrieked,’’ He is a Bengali.’’ The third one said,’’Nannii’’. It was out of our world of languages. Later it came to my wits that the lexis was Malayalam. We found there children from three different directions of our country and we all met in the fourth direction i.e. the west (Gujarat). We all steeped in the bus with a tricolor in our hands and a simulating sense of patriotism in our hearts. In the bus, we pledged that every one of us would do something for our mother land…