Government Medical College Chandigarh Old Students Association





Charanjeet Singh, ’99 batch

 Inspired by the 1991 batch to have a fete “bees saal baad”, we the 99ers, decided to fly the crazy miles in our own buzzing way; albeit with an insignificant difference that it will take us a decade more to get to the count of “bees.” The bellies of the quadra who made it to the grand ole town of Philly were not really pots (yet another insignificant difference), but all of us did have some potboilers that we could share.  

We all realized that although the counts of eligible bachelors were fast dwindling, Channa down, Kattu and Sarao almost there, and only me to go, the ability to rock-on the bachelor way was still agile… and… to equiponderate in the absence of yanki’s, Megha-”madhuri”-Vaid-Chauhan (naam hee kaafi hai!) joined us yakuza. As is typical for Punjabis, and hence us, most eidetically appealing recalls are inspired by gastronomically gratifying experiences; we chatted flirtatiously about our indulgences in curves and furls of chocolate and the valleys and dips of creams at the Golden Bakery, 38. The lush green mounds by the French Creek, PA provided space for more such savoring indulgences, this time in chicken tikkas “fresh from the tandoor”. The Lake was serene, our eyes weren’t! … The sights around only added to the taste.

I still carry the name Bizz but this time around we all were bees, hovering around the blossoms; and our escalation from there-on was a tad bit bizarre. That sun-bathed day, those teasers, the jokes on hair and baldness alike, the fight over last strip of glazed chicken, the unleashed tongues – any sophisticated saint would have thought of us as smitten by hormones - and he would not have been wrong. Frenzy was served a-la-carte as the evening drew another chica et-La-Chiquita. More leg-pulling and more slap-stick – the married got abrasive – the not yet married retaliated slimily. The foam of the spirit rose high from the essence of unity – “champagne” style!

The bizarre day gave way to a sane night, smooth music, savages turning sages, drunken singing gospels and guiding apparently mislead – the holy water of Shiraz was showing stage III of its effect – some more chit chat and the sunshine next noon knocked the doors to tell – we were running late for our flights back home. The good-byes followed… the phones, emails, and the memories keep going…. only to meet again, this time, with pots and “bees saal baad”.

[PS: So, Chana - Veeraish Chauhan; Kattu - Kanwaljit Singh; Sarao - Ravjot Singh Sarao; Megha i- Veeraish’s wife and I happened to attend this crazy re-union]

Kiddan mitro !! 




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