Young Fools

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Roses. What a wonderful gift of mother nature! The intricate rows of petals with a blissfully intoxicating fragrance and the dazzling shades and combinations of color and the velvety texture!

No matter how beautiful a bouquet is, it can never make up for a single rose. It has an inexplicable beauty in its singularity. It can communicate feelings so much better than any play of words humans have designed. No matter what there is to say, a rose can say it best. It is a declaration of sentiments far personal than a mere web of words could ever achieve.

It was 'Fusion Night' of the fest, the unofficial Valentine's day of college. It was the second and the busiest cultural night. The lawn bustled with students. While most youngsters loomed around in the sublime atmosphere of hopes at the back, the poor performers on stage entertained the boring crowd of faculty members in the front.

Students put various food and games stalls on all days of the fest. But for fusion night especially, they added a rose stall. Students bid wildly for the ownership of the stall. And the victory destined the lucky one to get rich. The cost of a single rose started at 50 and reached as high as 500 bucks by the end of the night. It was utterly unreasonable. But when has a young heart ever listened to reason, anyway? Well-groomed boys lined up in front of the stall from early evening to buy a variety of roses with their monthly savings. No fool like a young fool!

Akshay looked at the girl in the black flared skirt and loose crème top, which ended right at her petite waist. She had left her long silken hair open and the untamed lustrous tresses fell to her hips. She usually either plaited or tied them in a pony. And he found her just as immaculate in whichever way. But tonight she took his breath away. Her big black eyes adorned with a subtle line of kohl. And her naturally pink lips shone with a light gloss. She was an embodiment of elegance and grace. His heart swelled up in pride. That was his girl right there.

.

.

.

Tucking a disobedient strand of hair behind her ear, Sia scanned the lawn for any immediate threat. A threat she was eagerly waiting for...

She wasn't yet sure if Raghav was at all romantically interested in her. But she secretly and desperately wished for him to give her a rose tonight.

She had planned her exact course of action if such a situation arose. She even basked in its rehearsal in her head. She had it all figured out. She would point blank refuse him. Possibly with a harsh face. And he will be forced to return with a rejected rose in his hand in front of everyone. And once and for all, she will prove to the entire college that she was not interested in him at all. 

Respect for her will rise to a different level altogether, as they will finally see that his charms meant nothing to her. And the wave of awe of her batchmates, for her unbound piousness, will return with renewed momentum. Sia released a deep, delighted breath out.

'What are you smiling about?' Silvi enquired her gleefully distracted friend.

Startled out of her reverie, Sia came to the present moment and flashed an apologetic grin.

'The Mechanics bitch is eyeing me from afar.' Silvi informed in a jittery voice.

Sia took her attention to the chubby professor and then back to Silvi. Silvi was wearing a white floral body-hugging dress. The dress ended at around her thighs. That meant she had to hide her dress under their overcoat while leaving the hostel like many others. Otherwise, girls had to dress in what the warden approved as decent.

But sometimes faculty members escorted the girl back to the hostel to change if they considered it to be too provocative in their eyes.

Sia found it really humiliating. Nothing was worth such humiliation. So she stuck to maxi dresses or long skirts or jeans and tops. Indian wear were too out of place on such occasions to fit in.

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