I love you meant I want to love you. For some lucky ones, a jugaad of the room had to be established. Whole friends' community used to contribute to this as if it was some altruistic religious ceremony. Everyone knew how rare this opportunity was, and yeah, everyone was interested in hearing the story after. That was the time when co-ed hostels existed only in New York and girls hostels were built at the distant corner of college, guarded by the Scotland Yard and FBI together. Girls' hostel for guys was an imaginative, mythological, utopian, exotic, majestic island. Where the air smells of expensive perfumes, room floors are covered with soft cotton, walls are painted pink, cute teddy bears tell the bedtime stories, and the most beautiful girls in shorts, giggle and had pillow fights all the time. Every guy, every single guy wanted to see it from inside, just once. A heaven, where angels float. Most envied job in the world that time was that of the security guard of girls' hostel. There were villains in the story too. There were some proactive fat lady wardens of girls' hostel who used to collect the girl's mobile phones at night. So that the society does not get polluted by the suspended love particles floating in the air. Each girl had to switch off and submit her phone in an envelope to the warden at night. Girls used to play tricks and put soaps, small bricks in place of phones. And if the warden checked and gave punishment for it, there was a way to take revenge. Each girl used to put an alarm on her cell phone of 1 AM, 1.15 AM, 3 AM etc. The alarm rings even if the phone is off, so if they don't sleep thinking of their guys, so won't the fat lady; bursting her head with 200 phones ringing late at night.
That was hairy, sweaty, smelly, ugly time. Bad haircuts, worse dressings, and pathetic tastes; still people used to fall in love with each other. Some love stories concluded as marriages and some caused heartbreaks. The majority was still of the one sided lovers, starers, followers, and gawkers. That was the time when a boyfriend had to be called "Bhai" on the phone when girls used to visit their hometowns in summers. That was the time when people used to stare at faces, not at screens. That was the time before selfies and Snapchat. Those were the days when people's identities were not managed by social media. Things were simple; you were one person; ugly, beautiful, whatever. In those days girls were not divas and men were not metrosexual. People were made of bone and flesh, not of plastic and fiber optics. People in real were liked, not their images. A guy had to look into the eyes of a girl, stammer, sweat and express his feelings; emotions were expressed by choked throats and shaking hands, instead of technical applications and downloaded emoticons. That was the time when bodies were distant but hearts were close, affairs were few but bondings were strong and kisses were rare but feelings were real...
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