Poetry: My Destiny

It was when I was a young teenager who had joined college and was in the first year. In that year an exciting incident was waiting for us. The cultural department of my college declared that the annual college magazine would be published before the puja vacation. It had not happened the previous year for some unavoidable reason. The budding poet in me was ecstatic, it was my chance to get published. Even though I started writing bhajans when I was 7 or 8, I never showed them to anybody. At times, I used to hum them to my own tune when alone. Later in high school, I participated in many essay writing, poetry composition, and story writing competitions, and won some prizes too. But I never felt encouraged to write more until one of my poetries got selected to be telecast on the radio while I was in class 9th. Then I started writing in a notebook and kept it secretly on my bookshelf.

I used to participate in NSS camps during every puja vacation. During each camp, we used to get three or four occasions to showcase our talent, in the evenings. I used to write or co-write one-act plays and also act in them. But, we never got the credit as writers, nor were we bothered about it. The only thing we cared about was how our team performed. Now when I think about it, I feel lack of mentoring and appreciation can lead to wasted talents. Earlier, once my poetry was published in my school magazine. That was the only time I was published.

Now it was the time to get published again! Then, I did not want to miss the chance to see my name printed under the title of an article. I submitted a poem. I eagerly waited for the date when the college magazine would come out. Finally, one week before the college puja vacation the magazine was out. I could not wait to collect my copy from our group leader. The first thing was to check my name in the table of contents and then to go to the particular page to read it in one breath. The bliss it gave at that time has never been repeated again in my life so far. It felt like a big achievement. I spent that night reading the magazine on my hostel bed- the poetries, stories and other articles. I tried to note the names of the writers, their departments and the classes they were in. At the end of the poetry section, I got to read the last poem titled “Wounded Jatayu.” I was awestruck by the poetry, its language, composition- everything. It was above all the college magazines I have read so far. Someone had written it so beautifully, she must be very talented, I told myself. It seemed like the poet had a deep understanding of literature. I kept the magazine and tried to sleep, but the words danced in my mind for quite some time that night.

On the very next day, I decided to meet the poet in the college, she was supposed to be in the same class as me. I knew the name, let’s call her Anita. I had checked the classes that day, English class was there. I was sure to meet her there. I did not know her other optional or major subjects, but English is compulsory for everyone. So eagerly before the class started, I went to the blackboard and announced that I wanted to meet Anita and announce her name. No one responded. Then I asked if anyone knew her, and all answered in negatively. Some assured me they would let me know. There were many small groups of girls who knew each other for some months; as batchmates or as department-mates (studying the same subjects) or as hostel-mates.

I was disappointed. I enquired with other departments, they all said they didn’t know anybody by that name. One day I met the editor of the magazine told her that I wanted to meet the girl who wrote that poetry and asked if she could help. She just said that drop boxes were provided for the articles and that she didn’t know anyone by that name. I thanked her, but kept searching for Anita silently. At times, if I saw a less familiar face, I would ask her name. But slowly I forgot about that.

My exams were over and then summer vacation too. I was back in my hostel room. Other roommates had left the hostel. I was staying alone in the room for some weeks, was feeling low. One afternoon my hostel matron came inside and asked me, “The bed next to yours is empty, right?” I nodded.

“You were sad that your previous roommates were juniors and have left after their exams. And now only new sub-juniors will come. Guess what? Your new roommate is coming and she is your batch mate only.”

I was surprised, normally only new girls come. “Who is coming now to stay newly in the second year? Let’s see.”

In the evening one girl and her father arrived with her luggage. The matron called me and said, “She would be your roommate from now. She is also in second year’’.

“OK,” I smiled. “Where did you study your first year?”

In reply she told the name of my college.

“But, I have never seen you before in college,’’ I was surprised.

“I will tell you later,’’ she replied.

“What is your name?’’

“Anita,” she said her full name.

“What? Tell me again,” I was asking her.

She was the girl I was searching for since last year. I could not believe it. “Your poetry came in the college magazine. I looked for you a lot.”

“Is it? I don’t even know.”

Her father was listening to our conversation. “Good, you got a classmate as your roommate. Both stay happy,” he said with a smile and bid us goodbye.

We went to our room. She occupied the bed adjacent to mine.

A little later, after she arranged her belongings, I asked her about the previous year and the poetry, as that was in my mind from the time I met her. She started telling all the stories related to her absence for the first year. She was in Hyderabad with her uncle for some emergency and just came down to write the exams only. She had provided a medical certificate for the attendance. She told this without thinking about what impression I might get upon hearing her truthful story, as we both had just met. I felt she was trustworthy and we became good friends very soon.

Today I feel it was destiny, that made us meet and got us connected so deeply so fast.

From that day onwards we became friends for sharing all our joys, happiness and sad moments with each other.

As regards that poetry, she said that though it was published with her name, it was written by her father. Now understood the mysterious smile on her father's face that day. He is really a great poet and a playwright who has written many plays and directed them too. Teaching was his profession, but writing his passion.

My friend, who is my sister-in-law now, and I explored many things together and went for our post-graduation together. I met her brother, in our hostel when he came to meet her and later became my life partner.

I understood that everybody has a destiny. We meet people who are meant to be in our life at the right time, not before that.

She is my friend, sister-in-law and my confidante to date.

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