Nitin Shekhar Suman Prasad/ Lambu/ Tyrannosaurus Rex

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So, it’s the twentieth of May all over again, and there are just a handful of people who truly understand what this day signifies. College was as cliche as anyone could make it; there was drama (god, was there drama), there was love, there was heartbreak, there was friendships (that changed dynamics every fleeting moment) and more that anything, there was a hell lot of fun.

Most people who are close to me know I’m not always the heartless smart-ass I make myself out to be; I’m really quite mushy on the inside, which is why, on Nitin’s twenty-third birthday, I’m going to dedicate a post to him. (Nitin, you always wanted me to write a book about us, but let’s start off small.)

The end of every academic year brought us to May 20th, which became synonymous with epic stories being created for us to reminisce about in our old-sitting on the patio-playing bridge age. Each May 20th brought new benchmarks, and they aren’t ones we’re necessarily proud off (well, maybe a little). Year One taught us to never get ahead of ourselves and plan celebrations in advance; a teaching which we always took into account in the coming years. “What do we say to planning the 20th of May in advance? Not today.”


I’m not going to write about each year and bore you, everyone who needs to know, knows how awesome Nitin’s birthdays are. College would have been impossible to deal with without a few people around. We had our own little world inside NIFT and it comprised of a very select group of people namely Nitin, Guneet and Subi. Prachi joined in somewhere along the way and I don’t believe we’ve ever had a dull moment around each other.

182860_10150100069628411_6196574_nYes, he is trying on some bangles    

Now I’m going to make this personal. Nitin, I remember meeting you in the first week of college and I remember not thinking too much about it. I don’t remember the exact moment we clicked, but people seldom do so I’m not going to penalize myself for that, although that would have been cool. But when I think of you, there is an ocean of memories and no time for me to put it into words. The messages we used to exchange in freshmen year could make a brilliant coffee table book. “Won’t you grant a dying man his last fish?” Still funny. I’ve worked with many people in the course of college and internships. You are, without a doubt, my work husband. There is no one I work better with, and I work quite well with most. I’m also quite sure I imbibed by randomness from you and “Bhaiyya ye wala bhi print kar do” is still my favourite file name. And I think the 11th of February a.k.a ID day was the single most crappy day an underage college goer could have. Your Tyrannosaurus Rex impression is how I crack myself up randomly in the middle of a crowd. You forget birthdays, ditch rakshabandhan, never feel the mood before you crack a joke and are the biggest twit of all sometimes but despite your flaky artist-like existence, I can’t stay mad at you for too long.

That fateful ID Day


If anyone can Karan Johar a photograph for no reason, it’s us.

 I’m sad we aren’t together right now, and I’m sure you’ll have many a birthdays without us around but it never truly dawned upon me till today, that college really is done with. We’re all grown up, and I’m all sappy because I can’t see you making a fool out of yourself for the entertainment of others. You’ve changed, I’ve changed, we’ve all changed. Subi’s getting married, for god’s sake! But those few times we do manage to meet, are always awesome and that’s what counts. Now, don’t beat me down for my absolute lack of humor and complete out-pour of emotions. Deal with it.

Happy Birthday, Jackass!

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