Their first meeting had been a disaster. After all, they were mere three-year-olds. They both wanted the same empty swing at the same time and as three-year-olds are wont to, beat up each other, to settle the winner. As their respective mothers went hammer and tongs at the general lack of civilities, these two went off to try the slides.

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They both again met when they were assigned to the same plump games teacher, who was very bored anyway and made them run around the ground. As Deepak collapsed after the third round, a mocking Deepa continued running. Deepak hated the very sight of Deepa.

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They both graduated from school and applied to various colleges. As destiny would have it, joined the adjacent colleges. This meant, same metro rides and similar friend circles. As they flirted around with others, they managed to tolerate each other, though often wondering, how on earth did God create THIS? 

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In the final year of college, they were picked by the same bank, which made them work like donkeys. They bonded over mimicking the mean boss. Each felt the other wasn’t so bad after all!

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Deepa was to wed the local wrestler boy and become Mrs. Sangawan. Deepak found a paying job. But somehow, this news, they felt, they had to share with each other first. In person. Else the throbbing chest would burst open, without the gloating, of having made it first, in life.

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Deepa reached the metro station, as agreed. She saw Deepak on the other platform. Two opposite trains were coming into the station. Most of the crowd was disgorged and more crowd piled into the bogies and the trains moved out of the station. Yet these two remained standing, staring, soaking, breathing, wanting, living. Nothing else seemed to matter. No one else existed.

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Today is their fifth wedding anniversary. 

How do I know? Well, I’m Sangawan. Though I’m the akhada boy, my heart beats for Rumi.

When love comes calling!