In Chandigarh, life was different. It was an artistically constructed city. Roads were divided to each sector. And each sector had its life style. Streets were clean and dirtless. And cool breeze greeted the evening and morning came across the diverse sorts of twittering of birds from Himalaya. Modernity ran on every aspect of life. Kabir thrilled when he got to the city first time with friends. He was there to sit in an entrance test for admission in post graduation in Gandhian and Peace Studies. Brimmed with glee and comfort, he could not have faced the trivialities of small city there like of his own was. No body bothered who was with whom dating and whose relations with whom had soured or jittered. He loved the beauty of Chandigarh. Emotions had pervaded in each aspect of Chandigarh. He was excited as Mummy had opted for Chandigarh, a capital to two major states, abandoning the idea of admitting at pink city- Jaipur for his higher study. The most comfortable thing that pulled him was- university jean clad fashionable girls. In his tiny township, parents did not allow their girls donning jeans or so type of things and girls hesitated to communicate with boys. He amazed watching girls with their boys’ friends, hand in hand and sometimes in university botanical garden lay embracing in each others’ arms. In Chandigarh, he noticed that girls generally freed their silky hair on their backs but in his tiny township, there were a few girls whose parents allowed them to untie their hair. And importantly, in his tiny city, no body dared to hold a hand of girl in open even though they were good friends. And in his tiny city, girls rarely clad jeans. He was exactly twenty-three when Mummy permitted him joining the university after his graduation in tiny township. And he thought it had arrived the occasion he would hold a soft hand of someone beautiful girl and caress her artistic fingers. He was imaginative to girls’ fingers are always a kind of art, blending with lively beauty and enchanting smell. He had touched many a time Aarti’s tender fingers to explore aestheticism in them while making practice on computer with her. But Aarti hated his touch. Even she had censured him twice. However, Mummy, the very day of his departure for Chandigarh, had advised him to keep away from RSS for two years minimum, as these were the crucial years for his career ahead. And she again advised him to away from all what put the family in disgrace. He understood all what Mummy had said. But the influence of Mummy on him so far absolutely had washed off as he had grown an adult. University wonderingly turned him to be his own mind. His whims worked on him. Krishan ji wrote him twice a week encouraging him not to be absent from shakha and he had shot letters to those too, who were working for shakha in Chandigarh. And they people would have visited Kabir every so often to invite him to shakha. Whenever Kabir was off and they found his room door closed, they pasted message slip on the mouth of lock. Kabir unhesitatingly went together with them to shakha leaving his assignments unfinished. Professors panelised him for his negligence in study but he had no other way except for apology to them. He repented but he could not refuse to comply with the command of his senior shakha executives. ********* ********* *********** END