The Parisian.
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The Parisian.

Long time back I had met a Parisian.He was from Normandy, France.What actually had happened was that, his dad had got transferred to the city where my dad had got a new job and they were not able to get him admitted to any other school other than mine. At that time I was also a late transfer to the school and he came maybe three or four weeks after me.

We both were in an awkward position , as the whole class section was ahead of us and we both were lacking behind by weeks and months.The class teacher got him placed beside me and at the first break we both had a conversation.

I asked him -“new to the city?”

He replied-“yeah”

His dialect, his accent was completely different and I had not heard anything as such before.

I replied-“I  am new to this city as well.Just came here a month back.”

He-“Where are you from?”

I-“India.You are from which part of the world?”

He-“Paris”.

I-‘That’s a very nice city.”

He-“That it is.”

I-“So, till now you studied in Paris?”

He-“No, I studied in Normandy, both my mom and dad are from there”.

I-“But, you said that you were from Paris?”.

He-“I was born in Paris and when I was five years old, we shifted to Normandy and we were there till now.”

I-“Oh”.

The recess bell rang and after that we didn’t get much time to speak with each other.

Next day, we had a free playing period .While we were going to the playground, he came and spoke with me.

He-“You know I really miss Paris.I like it there more than any other place and even dad’s missing it now.Yesterday he told us that he was trying to shift us back to France and I really hope that it happens.”

I-“Best of luck.”

He-“Thanks.”

He-“You know, I like to think myself as a Parisian”.

Me-“What is a Parisian?”

He-“A person who belongs to Paris.”

Me-“That you definitely are”.

He-“Yes”

Then we played cricket for an hour.I taught him the basic rules of it and he did a good job of batting.

After a week he left the school as his dad had been successful in shifting his job back to France.

I don’t remember his name, but he told me that he was a “Parisian”, that I remember clearly.

It is sometimes so surprising that life brings people from different continents, countries and regions in front of us. The one thing that I learnt that wherever you maybe from, if you have a good heart, then all the basic emotions remain the same.

Adios!

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