The writer in me....a distinct 3 decades ago...

"If anybody wearing a red shirt, stands atop his terrace on a house alongside the tracks, this bloody train would stop"

This was the regular exchange whenever we friends used to discuss about the Bokaro Steel City Express - I do not know if this train has changed its habit now.

I was crying all alone in this train on that mid afternoon in the June month of 1977!

I was on my way to Jamshedpur to join XLRI with a host of friends and relatives  back home praising me for my studious academic accolades! Had they known that I would rush back home after three months to join my dream course of Chartered Accountancy, they would not have wasted so many of the adjectives from their closet of vocabulary!

What happened at XLRI that made me leave - that's another story folks and I do not intend to spill it for it would come in handy for an exclusive post in my blog. 

At XLRI campus, life was enjoyable with lots of activities and the one that came close to my heart was the campus magazine that fed the creative thirst of students.

The magazine was edited by this girl, a year senior to me but she got closer to me - er, intellectually and not the way you rush to imagine..! I could narrate a few episodes of our interactions that belie my earlier statement but then, tell me, is it fair to offend her grand children now!

Well, let us put paid to the romantic escapades and focus on the instance I am referring to.

She cajoled me to write something for the then current issue and after some deep thought which included unintended sleep sessions, a couple of dosas and a tepid coffee (tell me, would you ever try coffee beyond the Vindhyas, I did and that was the last time!), I wrote an essay  and gave it her. she squealed with delight and said, Rags! Never knew you could write so well! Maja kiya hain, meri pyaar"

Two days later the issue was out and I was anxiously waiting for feedback.

It was the evening, I recall. The summer heat has waned and the season was windy. The campus had a large park-like arena where I was lazing in a bench and trying to work out a Calculus problem that Mike Vanjour had given, when I heard a ruffle close to me.

She was walking towards me with a bright smile.

A simple looking but a very lively face with instantly changing expressions. I had seen her in the office corridor a few times but never could go up to say Hello.

"Excuse me, Can I ....?"

" oh Please.." I moved aside leaving a substantial space on the bench.

" I have read your essays! Brilliant!"

" oh! Thank you!"

" How do  you write such interesting essays?"

"well, er.. it just happened!"

Too good! The words were apt, the expressions were realistic and the emotions that got evoked..oh! I have no words!"

"Oh thank you thank you!

"Could you please give me your autograph?"

Needless to say, I was traversing cloud nine and concealing my excitement, " well, I am not that famous yet.."

No no, you don't realize! Please sign and give me, na?"

She handed over an autograph note which had several signatures. I noticed those of Vengsarkar, Shakthi kapoor ....

Elated, I opened an empty page and scribbled my name.

She received it with reverence and lovingly read what I had written.

'Oh! You have signed as Raghu! Are you not RK Narayan?"

"For the next issue, What did I write?"

You must be joking.