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    MY FIRST LOVE MY PEN

I was broken and my life shattered in to a pile of a four-letter word. Such a thing never happened to me before. I never lost some thing so dear, I did not feel this pain when my first lovely girl friend ditched me on my nineteenth birthday (she fell for a guy named tumba from kumbam).

She was the best friend I had, come rain or sunshine, war or peace, love or hatred, punga ya danga...she was always there with me (like the smile that was always there on my third girl friend). She is the one I was attached to during the last six years. I got 6x12=72 slaps in my ragging for her being with me for six years.

She helped me in my exams, my entrance tests, my first love letter.... The hall of fame is endless. But today without her I am lost, when I lost my fountain pen, a camlin fellowship.

Yes it was so dear to me, you ball pen users can never understand the pain. You are not attached to your pen any longer than the life of a refill. But my pen it was six long years bandhan.

I am always reluctant to give my pen to some one, but when the cute general secretary asked me, I had to give it to him. I felt as if a father doing kanyadan, I pleaded with him to take proper care of her.

A few hours went by, I met the ghada general secretary again, and He was making some equations in air about the Rock Show in the coming college festival. From a distance I slowly scrutinized his pockets, hands, mouth, ears... and no it was not there. When he finished his animated conversation with another ghada.

I asked him "where is my pen". "What pen", came a immediate reply.

I felt as if stabbed from behind. I tried to explain him slowly to recollect he had taken a pen from me. But he just couldn't remember and said it might me with some obscure guy and showed no concern to get it back for me.

I had to take the role of a police. I went to the first guy he said had it, no was all written on his face. Every one seemed to be passing around my pen. I desperately tried to track down. But it seemed, as a B-2 bomber not even detected by most hi-fi radar systems.

I was exhausted when there was no other clue to go on. I cursed the general secretary and felt horribly sad. I was returning to my hostel, on the way somebody gave me a pen and asked me to give it to the general secretary and left, he was in a hurry.

I couldn't believe my eyes and ears. I don't know what it was, luck, fate... or what ever. I had my pen in my hands and I was happy to get it back and swore never to lend my pen to a public servant. I proceeded to my room thinking of all the harshness my pen would have been through in the last few hours.




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