The Stolen Bouquet
Friendship Stories
It was the last day of college when I looked around and saw my friends dancing cheerfully on the DJ. Either they were not bothered by the end of college life or they wanted to live ‘the end’ to the fullest.
Unlike the last 3 annual college fests, this time I chose not to participate in many contests. I felt the moment needed to be lived not used. I partook in only one contest which had to happen on stage – ‘Mr. and Ms. Amitech’. The opportunity to win was the most coveted. It included an introduction round, followed by the talent hunt round and the question-answer round. After every round, some candidates would get eliminated. In the end, three girls including me turned out to be the semi-finalists out of fifteen. The jury would need some time to take the decision and so the dance session continued with the heavy crescendo of music.
After a while, the music stopped, the results were announced and I got thrilled to hear my name as the winner. I was crowned, handed over a certificate and a bouquet.
But lost in the roar of the music, my friends had forgotten to congratulate me or prod me for a treat. My happiness could soar high with their wishes, but it seemed they did not care.
It made me feel like a winner and a loser at the same time.
Just after the announcement, the music buzzed again and people went back to dancing. I too stepped on the dance floor but my hands were now occupied. So I placed my bag and the bouquet near the stage and joined the crowd.
At 7 in the evening, the music stopped. The function had ended, alas! Time to go home with mingled happiness and despair. I came near the stage to collect my stuff.
Much to my surprise, I found a small bouquet lying next to mine. I looked here and there wondering where it came from, but got no hint. Ignoring it as I turned around, a voice came, “this is for you”. I looked around and saw an old and forgotten friend of mine holding the bouquet in his hands.
“You bought it for me?”
“No, I stole it from the chief guest’s table”. He giggled and so did I while he handed it over to me.
More than the bigger bouquet which I was rewarded with on the stage, that small stolen bouquet was the biggest achievement for the day.
More than those people who I thought do care for me and who were at that moment still dancing unaware of my leaving, this person who I kept thinking was a jerk for all four years turned out to be the most caring.
‘People slip away from our hands like the sand with time.
But the last few grains which remain stuck to the hands are friends.’
