I remember my first year at Wilson College vividly. It was a time filled with excitement, uncertainty, and the promise of new friendships. I found myself on the managing committee, a role that felt both thrilling and daunting. When it came time to elect our committee’s secretary, two candidates emerged: one Maharashtrian and one Gujarati. Being Maharashtrian, everyone naturally assumed I would vote for my fellow community member.
But I surprised them all. I cast my vote for the Gujarati candidate because, in my heart, I believed he was the more capable choice. That decision stirred up quite a commotion. I can still picture the day a meeting was called to address the fallout. The Maharashtrian candidate stood before us and, in a fit of anger, called me a traitor. He blamed his loss on my vote, and his words stung deeply.
Instead of shrinking away from the humiliation, something inside me ignited. I marched straight into the principal’s office, my heart racing with determination. I expressed my disappointment that our college had devolved into divisions based on religion. “We are all students here,” I insisted. “Where does religion fit into this?” The principal listened intently and summoned the candidate to explain himself. When he finally apologised to me, it felt insufficient; he needed to make amends publicly. And so, in front of our peers, he did just that.
In the aftermath of that controversy, an unexpected bond formed between the Gujarati candidate and me. The principal often called us both to his office, and we spent hours together explaining ourselves to various groups. As time passed, I began to see him in a different light. He was such a gentleman—kind and thoughtful—and somewhere along the way, I fell for him.
I remember him telling me one day, “You stood up for something when you were so new to college; you’re principled and fiercely independent… it’s hard not to fall in love with you!” Those words filled me with warmth and joy.
When I reflect on our happiest memories together, it’s hard to choose just one. We’ve been married for 62 years now, but those early dating days hold a special place in my heart. We didn’t have much money back then, so our outings were simple yet magical. We would wait eagerly to watch just one film, sharing a bucket of popcorn between us while stealing glances that spoke volumes. Afterward, he would walk me home under the starlit sky. Even when we had no money at all, we’d find joy at the beach or in the hanging gardens—those moments spent together were priceless.
As for what has kept our relationship strong all these years? It’s simple: there has never been any ego between us. Love has always come first. Compromising or making adjustments have felt like small sacrifices compared to the depth of our love. That’s what these 62 years have been about—recognising that love is bigger than everything else.
Our journey has been one of resilience and unwavering support for each other. Through every challenge we faced, we’ve emerged stronger together, proving that love truly conquers all.
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