Yamini Srivastava
From Nlsiu Batchof2005
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Expected. In her own way, she was always one of the best. | Expected. In her own way, she was always one of the best. | ||
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| + | Yamini was also the only girl in class to have not one, but two poems written to her and performed in public. I would have said three but the jury's out on whether Shondy's WTO article counts as a poem :-) | ||
Revision as of 00:07, 13 April 2006
Right, here’s the a-to-z: ArbidBabeCanDevelopExtremelyFunnyGrumpinessHangoversIrascibleJokerKindakinkyLeonineManhatingNononsenseOwlishPetulantQuaintRemorselessRemorselessRemorselessSensitiveTrueUtterlyVoluptuousWeirdosaXyYoungandtotallytotallyZapped...
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Oliver Wendell Holmes once said “Young men know the rules, old men know the exceptions.” Yamini was an exception to more than half the rules Unfortunately, law school was so fast-paced that many did not get to know her half as much as she deserved. It takes time to know Yamini, but those who do truly appreciate the exceptional person she is.
At first glance, Yamini appears to be the archetype ‘chom’ girl from a typical civil services background. Fair of skin and pleasing to the eye, she wears her arguable beauty with a studied nonchalance borne of a tradition of sensibility and balance. She walks purposefully, with long, pure strides, feet comfortably clad in a few familiar pairs of sandals, or keds imported from Brussels and various other kinder climes. Yamini is not tall, and yet she seems so – her poise becomes her, lending her the gravity of a more mature woman.
Known to ruthlessly discredit any semblance of sentimentality, she is nevertheless a reflective person. She rises early and runs with the sunrise. One could often see her on her rounds early in the morning, always in track pants, hair tied behind her if it was long enough to come in her way. Jogging has always been her escape. Her hair tends to fall across her face in clean lines, giving her an air of softness that belies the strength inherent in her character. Yamini is anything but weak – she always knows her heart. Capable of both loving, and in turn, refuting love, her affection is measured, precious and dearly bought. Her company, when given, is light and full of cheer, her friends select but cherished. Her laughter is infections.
Yamini does not unduly decorate her person. At a social event (read: class parties), she preferred to look herself, rather than heavily weighed down by potions, paints and baubles. Sometimes seeing her in such settings could feel like a blast of fresh air. On several occasions, this has led to more than one heart struggling to rationalize with an inexplicable flutter.
Yamini loves to dance, often, and on every possible occasion. Few will ever forget the lovely red dress she wore at the end. She waltzed her way to the top of the class in the first moot we ever did, when the lights went out and she kept on talking.
Expected. In her own way, she was always one of the best.
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Yamini was also the only girl in class to have not one, but two poems written to her and performed in public. I would have said three but the jury's out on whether Shondy's WTO article counts as a poem :-)
