The alarm was ringing and Anuj was trying hard to search for the clock, eyes closed. When he could not find it finally, he gave in and got up only to discover that he was sleeping on the floor. The table his hand was trying to feel in sleep wasn't there. He didn't remember how he slept like that. ' Oh God! I am never drinking again...'

He still has the hangover and thinks of sleeping again but decides otherwise and reaches for his toothbrush. The corridor is all empty. Not a single sound. He feels jealous of the sleeping souls and through his way to the bathroom, keeps cursing his khadoos professor. Extra class on a Sunday morning! 7 AM!

Last night they had a break-up party . Avinash was heartbroken and they had organized a party to cheer him up. The winning captain of the the cricket match of the hostel backyard was supposed to pay for the drinks. Rahul paid for it gladly, with the scholarship money he hadn't told about anyone back home.
Bottles opened and toast raised. Most of them hugged Avi and tried to convince him what a whore she was. Anuj didn't know what to say, so he kept quiet and enjoyed the beer. By the end of first bottle the horizon of discussion broadened up. The topics varied from cricket to women to movies, professors, annual sports and what not.

Beer was followed by Vodka. On second peg the topic changed to batch tussle in general and coming annual sports in particular. They abused the senior batch for cheating in the Volley ball match last year and vowed to fuk'em up this time. A toast raised to the Director's Cup.

He wasn't good at sports. Not enough to be in the batch team. In fact he wasn't so good at anything, just an average performer. He wasn't the hero, be it semester results or cultural fest. He was the guy who would go unnoticed; always moving in company. But secretly he always desired to be a hero some day. Holding the cup with that victorious smile, rising above what he was: a MEDIOCRE.

The sun was yet to rise and the air outside was chilly. He headed towards the college. Madan's Chai shop on the way was deserted. Soon this place would be bustling with cups of chai & ciggis and talks worth a million dollar. He looks at the rows of Gulmohar. The blossom greets him with brightness of fire & sweetness of honey.

Mechanical department was half a cigarette away from the main building. He looks at the watch. Half an hour early! 'My God! I didn't change the alarm time last night.' He decides to go to Ganga-ghat; his favorite place in the college. It's like a temple to him. He sat at the place for hours together, being with it, being in it.

As he reached near, he recognized the sound of the flute a fisherman always played, sitting on the ghat. He sat on the stairs listening to the tune and looked at the sun. It looked like a big orange ball above the bridge across Ganga. He turns his head and is surprised to see Swati.
It's been two years since they've known each other. He met her at the cultural society meeting and was highly impressed. The confidence she had, the conviction with which she spoke, the way she carried herself; everything about her was was mesmerizing. Two years and still the same feelings, as fresh as day one.
She was a student of architecture, one year senior to him. She was the cultural secy and that was the reason, he became a member of the society. He never missed the meetings for those were the only chances he had to talk to her. She had a girlie look with tomboyish attitude, clad mostly in a long kurta and with earrings and pendants of bizarre shapes. Her father was a big shot. While most of the girls used public transport or scooty at best, she had a chauffeur driven sedan.
She was busy painting the sunrise above the bridge and didn't notice him. He was watching her paint like a mother watches her kid at play. She looked so beautiful. Her forehead shining in the morning sunlight, some loose strands of hair flowing with the morning breeze, the gem on her nose pin with a red sparkle and her eyes in full bloom just like the gulmohar blossom.

He wonders if he'll ever be able to win her, to hold her like his prize with that smile of victory. If ever he'll be the HERO of his dreams.
He looks at his watch and it's quarter past seven already. He rushes to his class, to his everyday life.