I first saw him in jeans and a white shirt, an orange knapsack over one shoulder.

He never forgave me for asking if he was a good pilot, that first encounter.
He claimed he stood on his toes to get picked for the Republic Day parade, so we could get to know each other in Delhi.
While out on our first cup of coffee with a friend of his, he borrowed money from her to see us through the rest of the day.
He was quick to confirm and was relieved to be told I did not expect flowers during courtship.
He courted me in my Dad’s car on some days; on other occasions it was his Yezdi ‘ABU.’
He looked sideways at me with that calm expression when I warned him I would make life hell for him.

Of the 40 odd days he was in Delhi on temporary duty, he stayed away only on two days,

for reasons of maintenance, he said.
But declined my poetry reading, admitting he did not understand poems.
And led my ‘Baraat‘, dancing into our wedding venue.
I found a tea cup stain on my picture when we first moved in together. He explained it by saying he had kept it under his table top cover for daily reference.
During our first month as a couple, I was a regular recipient of chocolate bars.
Once he rushed back in with a shrub rose, picked off the bush by the road.
He made a last minute dash from work, driving a long way to get me my birthday cake.
There were several cards, tucked away in nooks, waiting to be discovered during the day.
He called my bluff during my first royal sulk and packed me off to my parental home.
When I simmered, he whistled.
He saved me from the consequences of my social ineptness more than once.
He handed me a single red rose through the rail bogey window as I transited through Delhi once.
He did not recognize me on the Ahmedabad railway station where he had come carrying a bunch of lilies to pick me up.
He was there, besides me, in sickness and in health.
It’s been 25 years since. When I turn and look, it is these memories that blink like beacons on our road map. A lot more followed,

But most of it had to do with life..and love taking over..

The author is a Resource Center-in-charge at the Junior Wing of Air Force Bal Bharati School. A teacher with a background and training in media, she has worked in advertising, public relations, documentary film making and feature journalism. Her interest lies in the role of motivation, an all-round exposure and multiculturalism in education. A regular contributor to the ‘Teacher Plus” magazine and a blogger with a keen interest in the evolving social dynamics and their influence on young people, she maintains a blog at http://confessionsofanambitiousmother.blogspot.in/