As good fortune had willed, our new school we joined together,
Only in different classes, for he is two years my elder.
He scored and played music to reach his height of glory,
I did this-and-that too, to write my own little story.
For reasons academic or for extra-curricular fame,
Each eventually got to know the other’s proper name.
And he became the head-boy, for that metal he was made of,
And I, his one-year-junior, became his house prefect, that’s all.
Together we started working, for events and cultural meets,
Talking and coordinating, like really responsible beings.
But when I heard the whisper, that the head-boy “likes” me,
I would turn my head away, when his face I did see.
Blame me not, dear reader, for being so full of pride,
My mother taught in the same school, and I was a “staff child”.
So that big thing called male ego got a little stung,
And out came a volley of troubles for me, ‘The Insolent Junior One’.
Complaints of the irresponsible prefect started reaching the VP,
And at other times, just always so, I was given ‘toilet-duty’.
Some said the head-boy moved on, tied a red ribbon on another’s wrist,
While some kept promoting him to me, till I finally waved my fist.
No peace there was, oh dear, for I felt what’s called hot hell,
I dreamt of days when class 11 would bid class 12 farewell.
So when he passed out from school, I didn’t care a dime,
For what he gave me those days is what’s called a ‘bad time’.
And then 6 years passed away, no clue no smile no frown,
When certain coincidences brought us both to our home town.
On an otherwise ordinary online day on my ordinary Orkut,
I suddenly see a friend request from, my good God guess who?
A re-union then got planned, for coffee and some cake,
Oh well, I’ll go so what, what difference does it make.
But difference it did make, as I saw something so new,
And that he saw in me some good I dearly hoped so too.
5 months, 5 cups of coffee, it took for us to realise,
That the person sharing the bill with me, should do it all my life.
Daddy, I have found for me what you call a Punjabi boy,
Well-settled, sane, intelligent, in love with me, Oh boy!
So that is how pretty Lady Luck, turned her wheel my way,
A string of coincidences, Orkut, coffee and some cake.
School meetings, then adieu, and later more meetings too,
What was meant to be has happened, and I’m happy through and through.
Been 5 long years of marriage, and not a tear have I shed,
I think my mom was so right when she said - “He’s so well-bred!”
The toy in the picture above, is symbolic of us, you see,
It’s the first gift we bought for our yet-to-be-born baby.
Now, on a request note I will end my “love-ly” take,
Kindly do not ask my husband for his side of the tale.
I cross my heart and promise that this is How We Met,
and the picture is so damn ..it lovely..(y)
write more poems pleaseeeeee
Oh my, Anshu. Where did you dig this one up from? :D Thanks for liking it. Seems like I wrote it ages back. And this is no poem. Just a sing-along. :PDelete
haha! i was reading that dholakpur wala post..! :D i noticed poetry tag..and chanced upon this! ..lovely it is..:)Delete