It was a bright morning in January. Our college seemed to be as crowded as marina beach on sundays, the reason being-FESTEVE, Our annual cultural event. There are two reasons why girls like us look forward for this event; first, This is the only time GUYS from other colleges can enter our campus under the pretext of participating in culturals and occasionally there are some cute guys around and of course plenty of time for networking ;).The second reason being FOOD, there are a number of yummy food stalls ranging from fruit shop to wraps and rolls and it’s paradise for my friends and I who are hardcore hoggers.
It was Day 1 of festeve and it started off with the boring events such as Indian music and folk dance , the only event that was worth watching was fashion show but that was scheduled in the evening. I turned to my best friend and asked "Mokkaiya irruku, first half bunk panlam va ". She replied "Aiyoo, andha watchman nadhari vidamataan….we can escape only during the lunch break".
A guy from Vivekananda College was giving a carnatic recital and it was blaring through the loudspeakers. I made a desperate attempt to shut my ears in order to tune away from the noise and I told her " Idhu enna cultural ah ille mazhgazhi kacheria….venkatadri paadi savu adikrane". My friend said "Hey….lets bunk after western dance, Loyola’s dream team is performing….they are supposed to be awesome". I agreed to stay reluctantly but cursed her in my mind.
Loyola’s dream team was performing on stage and everyone was spellbound including me but not for long as my distraction was just around the corner. He walked past me and only one thought came to my mind ‘Mr. Perfect’.
He was tall, dark and quite handsome. His hair was blue black; he had deep brown eyes and a long well shaped nose,a french beard, a lovely smile and a cute set of dimples to complement that. He had the body of an athlete but he had a rather funny gait. His dressing sense was classy; the formal brown shirt that he was wearing seemed to match the color of his eyes. He was sophisticated and debonair and had this air of class about him. He seemed to be a perfect gentleman, the kind of guy you could introduce to your parents and who would make a prospective son in law and a good husband. I couldn’t say that he was the best looking guy on earth but there was something about him. He seemed to be perfect in my viewpoint.
I had this recurrent dream since childhood where I am standing in a field of yellow flowers wearing a beautiful white gown with a veil covering my head, a prince dressed in black with a long cape fluttering in the wind comes galloping in his black stallion and carries me away ,He holds me in his mighty strong arms. But in this case, Mr. Perfect was holding his camera and clicking snaps of the dream team performing on stage.
My friend brought me out of my reverie "Sight adichadu podhum….but summa solakudadhu andha paiyan nalla dhan irrukan…andha madri oru paiyan kedacha nalla irrukum ", she said. I chided myself for ogling in such a conspicuous manner and replied "Mmmm….aama…..Perfect ah irrukan."
The dream team’s performance ended and as they walked down the stage they were greeted by Mr. Perfect’s hugs and thumbs up signs. He was busy showing them the pictures that he had taken and they seemed to be pretty impressed. The results were announced shortly, needless to say THE DREAM TEAM continued their winning streak and they walked away with the trophy and I saw Mr. Perfect walking away until he faded away from my sight. My friend returned to the subject of bunking, "Lunch break….enga poradhunu seekram decide pannu……Escape aydalam" ,she said and we got back to business.
And that was the last time I saw Mr. Perfect.
