It is said that after the storm passes, the sunshine creeps in.
Yashasvi Jaiswal and Diya Raj Kapoor, two teenagers so in love were driven apart from each other, six years ago.
Six years later, Yashasvi is a well known cricketer and Diya an unknown...
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Pehle Bhi Main Tumse Mila Hoon Pehli Dafa Hi Milke Laga Toone Chhua Zakhmon Ko Mere Marham Marham Dil Pe Laga
The cricketers were welcomed in the auditorium, as they walked in uniform strides. They heard the cheers, squeals and fan chants of the students and the fellow doctors present there. Telling them to wave their hands at their camera, to click a photo with them, to shake hands with them. Once they reached the stage, the dean announced for the crowd to quit down and asked the cricketers to have a seat.
Samriddhi's friend who was sitting right beside her, her eyes filled with horror, fear most suited in this situation.
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"Dulhan toh tum meri hi bnogi", the boy said, content with his words. "Kaun tumse shaadi krega mere siva? Or itne handsome shohar ki baat hai!", he further added.
The girl listening to him, said, "Papa manege tab na Yasha? Shaadi bdi baat hoti hai, or hum bacche hai, abhi mujhe padhna hai, doctor bnna hai or tumhe-", Yasha cut her off.
"I promise you, ek bar jab mera selection Indian Cricket team ke liye hojaega na, or mai Opening batsman bn jaunga, yaad rakhna, 'Tum utho Siya sringar kro, Shiv-dhanush Ram ne toda hai', yhi gaana bajaunga tumhare ghar ke saamne", he said, sincerity visible in his eyes.
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"Now I would like to welcome, Mr. Rohit Sharma, captain of Indian Cricket Team, Mr. Virat Kohli, number three batsman and Mr. Batra head physiotherapist to come light the lamp", the voice of the student president broke the girl from her trance, as her eyes landed on him.
She had no doubt in his abilities, that he couldn't play for the Indian Cricket team, he was bound to but she would have to face him after all these years, after all these six years, was like a challenge she didn't want to take on. Her eyes widened at the sight to him, sweat beads formed at her forehead, the past flashed before her eyes. History couldn't repeat itself, she thought to herself or perhaps it shouldn't. What happened six years ago, was buried six feet deep in the snow covered lands of Kashmir. It didn't need a Delhi to relapse.
After the three men sat down, the official ceremony began. The award ceremony began, awardees after awardees from first year to the fourth, a smile adorned on each face. With medals dangling in their necks, and certificates in their hands, awards in the hands of the first place rankers. The auditorium started to glow gold.
Yashasvi who was sitting between Shubman and Virat was lost in deep thoughts about the painting he witnessed earlier, whilst coming here. The initials of the signatures, the serene view of Kashmir, the snow-clad peaks with the bustling bazaar, the lively lake, with flowers adorned only drew one conclusion. Circling along the fact that she was here, here in AIIMS, Delhi. But it couldn't make sense, it couldn't be, it couldn't be her. It shouldn't.
