I had turned 25 that year and he was 27 perhaps.
We met once or twice before he went to Boston on an official trip. Along with chocolates and other gifts, he brought back 2 stones - one from the MIT campus and the other from a place beside a lake where he had stopped for a bit as his friends moved ahead.
"What an unusual thing to gift somebody", I had thought at that time, brain too flushed with mush to utter the thought out aloud. We subsequently broke up quite violently after which I gave away all the gifts I received from him to an NGO.
These two stones and his letters, however I kept close, secretly taking them along to which every city I moved to.
On some Friday evenings after a long day at work, I carefully extract them from their envelopes, as if unearthing a secret treasure, and read them while Jagjit Singh's heart-wrenching ghazal , "Tere khushboo mein base khat main jalata kaise ?" plays in the background.
I am 35 now and he is married to another.
The stones are placed on the altar along with other idols and are worshipped everyday.
Comments