Half Girlfriend

  ‘Sit up,’ she said. She sat cross-legged on the charpoy. I faced her, but I moved far enough so she wouldn’t feel I could strike again.

  She smiled at me.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It was nice,’ she said.

  ‘What was?’

  ‘What we just did.’

  ‘We sat up cross-legged. That was nice?’ I said.

  ‘Yes,’ she said and laughed. ‘It was wonderful how we sat up. Wow. You sit pretty well.’

  ‘We have sat before.’

  ‘This was a different league. Guess maturity makes a man better,’ she said, ‘at. . .sitting.’

  We laughed. I wanted to touch her, if only to touch my fingertips to hers, but didn’t. I couldn’t believe we had kissed again. We chatted about old classmates of ours. We had lost touch with most of them, but tried to update each other with our limited information.

  Twenty minutes later, she coughed. Once, twice and then five more times.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yeah, it is a little cold,’ she said and went into a coughing fit.

  ‘I’ll get water.’

  I ran downstairs to my room. I came back with a bottle of water. She lay down on the charpoy, right hand on her forehead.

  ‘You’re not well, Riya?’ I said.

  She coughed again, sat up and had some water.

  I touched her forehead.

  ‘You don’t have fever,’ I said.

  ‘I’m exhausted, I guess.’

  ‘Did I stress you out?’ I said. I felt guilty about kissing her.

  ‘No. I should just go rest.’

  She had a coughing fit again, this time more violent.

  I helped her stand up and escorted her to the guestroom.

  ‘Will you be okay? You want someone here?’ I said.

  She smiled.

  ‘Nice try, sir. But I will be just fine,’ she said.

  ‘I didn’t mean that. I could wake up Ma.’

  ‘No, no, please. I need sleep, that’s all. We are going to the school tomorrow, right?’

  ‘If you’re feeling better.’

  ‘I’ll be okay. Goodnight, Madhav,’ she said.

  ‘Goodnight, Riya,’ I said, not wanting to leave.

  ‘Thanks for taking care of me,’ she said, her voice sleepy.

  She shut the door. I came back to my room. As I lay in my bed, I touched my lips. I thought about our magnificent lip-lock under the stars.

  ‘I love you, Riya Somani,’ I whispered before I drifted off to sleep.

  29

  ‘So this is the famous Dumraon Royal School,’ Riya said, her eyes widening at the sight of hundreds of kids buzzing around like bees.

  ‘Nothing royal about it,’ I said.

  ‘Well, I hear a prince runs it,’ she said.

  She smiled at me. I gave her an all-knowing, what-happened-last-night look. Of course, not much had happened. But a kiss is a kiss is a kiss.

  ‘We decided never to talk about it,’ she said.

  ‘I didn’t say anything.’

  ‘Tell your eyes to be quiet then. They talk too much.’

  I laughed. ‘How’s your cough?’

  ‘Better,’ she said.

  We reached school at nine, two hours after Ma. Riya had slept in. Since she did not know the way, I had to wait for her. She had donned a skirt and top first, but I had asked her to change into a salwar-kameez instead. Not that the kids would care but the principal, or Rani Sahiba, would. She had to approve of the dress code. So Riya switched to a plain white chikan salwar-kameez.

  We entered the staffroom.

  ‘You finally made it. Welcome,’ my mother said. I ignored her sarcasm. Riya and I greeted her, but Ma only nodded, without looking up from her notebooks.

  I introduced Riya to the staff.

  Tarachand ji duly rang the bell. My mother stood up.

  ‘Where are you going, Ma? It is my period.’

  ‘Are you working today?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Good, because I have a hundred books to correct.’

  She sat down again.

  ‘Is it okay if Riya waits here?’ I said.

  ‘Oh, I could walk around,’ Riya said.

  ‘It’s fine,’ my mother said.

  ‘Or I could help with the books?’ Riya said.

  My mother looked up and lowered her reading glasses.

  ‘Help?’

  ‘I can correct some notebooks. Should I take a pile?’

  In a slow movement, Ma pushed a pile towards her.

  I smiled. Rani Sahiba’s heart could melt. I imagined the three of us at school every day, after it had received the Gates grant. If you are imagining it, might as well dream of the perfect scenario, so I thought of Riya, my mother and me, laughing and correcting notebooks. I thought of Riya and me teaching the school kids basketball.

  ‘Madhav?’ my mother interrupted my daydream.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Class?’

  ‘I was just leaving,’ I said.

  ‘Who is that didi?’ a little girl in class III asked me.

  I taught classes III, IV and V simultaneously. Since we didn’t have enough teachers or classrooms, we had come up with a new system. I divided the blackboard into three parts.

  Each class had a third of the blackboard. I would teach a concept to one class and give them a problem. While they solved it, I moved on to the next class. It wasn’t the best way to teach, but the kids adapted to it.

  ‘She’s my classmate from Delhi. Same as you have classmates here,’ I said.

  ‘She’s so pretty,’ another class III girl called Shabnam said. ‘Are all Delhi girls so pretty?’

  I smiled.

  ‘Just like all Dumraon girls are pretty.’

  ‘Are all Delhi girls so tall?’ Shabnam said.

  ‘No. Only those who can write the nine-times table.’ The girls giggled and got on with their classwork.

  I moved to class IV and then to class V. Forty minutes into the class, I sat down for a break. I had finally managed to keep all three classes busy with their respective work.

  ‘Madhav sir,’ a ponytailed girl next to Shabnam said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Bring your friend to class.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘No. This is study time.’

  A couple of other girls followed and started the ‘please’ routine. Soon, the whole class chanted ‘please, please, please’ to me. I had taught them about manners just the previous week. Now they were using them against me.

  ‘Fine, I will get her,’ I said, ‘provided you stay absolutely quiet and work.’

  Everyone nodded and placed their fingers on their lips. I left the classroom. The class burst into noise as soon as I stepped out.

  My mother and Riya sat in silence, each busy with their stack of notebooks.

  ‘Riya, the students want to meet you.’

  ‘Me? Why?’ Riya looked up, surprised.

  ‘Just curious, I guess.’

  Riya looked at my mother. Ma didn’t react. I pulled Riya’s arm.

  ‘Come, no,’ I said.

  Riya and I stepped out of the staffroom.

  ‘How is it going with Ma?’ I said.

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘She is sweet, no? Comes across as strict, but is a big softie.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this, Madhav?’ Riya said.

  ‘Just.’

  We reached the class. The students broke into applause.

  ‘Hi, I am Riya,’ she said. She knelt down to be on their level.

  ‘You are so pretty,’ Shabnam said shyly.

  Riya tweaked Shabnam’s nose. ‘So are you,’ she said.

  Shabnam blushed.

  Riya spoke to the girl next to Shabnam. ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’

  The girl buried her face in Shabnam’s lap.

  Riya laughed. She repeated the question to an
other girl.

  ‘Mother. I want to be a mother,’ the girl responded.

  ‘And?’ Riya said.

  ‘And what?’ the girl said.

  ‘Doctor? Engineer? Dancer?’

  The little girl thought for a while.

  ‘Teacher,’ she said.

  ‘Nice,’ Riya said and patted her back.

  Riya and I came back to the staffroom. My mother and the other teachers had class. Only Riya and I remained in the staffroom. We sat at the long table. She coughed again.

  I said, ‘You really don’t sound okay.’

  ‘I was fine. I don’t know,’ Riya said. She went into another coughing fit.

  ‘Let’s find a doctor,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll see a doctor in Patna.’

  Riya excused herself and stepped outside. She looked around.

  ‘There’s no toilet. Kids go in the corner there. Or in the fields outside,’ I said, coming up behind her.

  Riya walked out to the fields, still coughing. I saw her body shake from a distance. I ran up to her. She turned and smiled at me.

  ‘I’m fine. I just need to properly cough it out.’

  ‘Spit out the phlegm.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m being gross.’

  ‘As if,’ I scoffed.

  ‘I should head back,’ she said.

  ‘Alone? Let me come and drop you.’

  Riya laughed. She patted my shoulder.

  ‘You are so sweet. There is no need. It’s just an allergy.’

  ‘I should come with you,’ I said.

  She held my shoulders and flipped me around.

  ‘You have classes. Now go back in, mister, before all your little girls come looking for you.’

  30

  ‘Louder, Madhav. You’re speaking like a mouse,’ Riya shouted, in contrast to my meek voice.

  She was grouchy, perhaps because I had made six mistakes in my last rehearsal. She stood before me and stomped her feet. She wore an oversized purple T-shirt and Bermuda shorts. Purple suits her, I thought; everything suits her.

  ‘You realize your speech is the day after tomorrow?’ she said.

  ‘You’re making me tense,’ I said.

  ‘Fine.’ She threw her hands up in frustration. ‘Tense is not good. I’m calm. You’re calm,’ she said, trying to swing my mood.

  ‘I’m screwing this up,’ I said. I sat down on her double-mattress diwan.

  I had come to her house on Sunday evening for a final rehearsal. Gates was arriving on Tuesday. I had to leave for Dumraon tomorrow.

  ‘It’s looking staged. They will see that I’m no good at this,’ I said.

  ‘Relax, Madhav. I’m sorry I shouted.’

  She sat next to me and held my hand. She coughed again.

  It was my turn to shout. ‘Who is this stupid doctor who can’t treat your cough?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s an allergy. Something in the air. Can’t figure out what’s making it flare up.’

  ‘What is the doctor in Delhi saying now?’

  Riya had gone to Delhi last month, after her family asked her to come meet her father one last time. He had passed away while she was there. She had spent two weeks in Delhi, attending the funeral and various last-rites ceremonies. During that trip, she had also met a senior specialist for her cough.

  ‘Same. Find the allergen. You think I’m allergic to you?’ She winked at me, indicating that she felt better. I smacked her with a red cushion.

  ‘Everything okay at home, Riya?’

  Riya had not reacted much to her father’s death. She had come back from Delhi and hugged me as if she would never let go. She mumbled something about forgiveness. I didn’t pry. She would only tell me what she wanted to tell me and when she decided to.

  ‘Yeah. My brothers are taking care of the business and my mother sounded normal the last time I spoke to her.’ Then she was all brisk and business-like, clapping her hands to bring me back to the present.

  ‘And now we have Madhav Jha, from Dumraon Royal School.’

  I stood in the centre of her living room.

  ‘Respected Mr Gates, Ms Myers, other members of the Gates Foundation delegation, MLA Ojha, eminent people from Dumraon, students and staff of the Dumraon Royal School. . .’

  ‘You know what?’ Riya interrupted me.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your greeting, it’s too long. Let’s cut it.’

  ‘Riya, you’re changing the script at this stage?’

  ‘Minor change.’

  We fine-tuned the words in my notes. I began again. She didn’t interrupt me. I spoke for ten minutes.

  ‘And that, my friends, is all I have to say. Thank you,’ I said.

  Riya clapped.

  ‘How many mistakes?’ I said.

  ‘Five.’

  ‘Five?’

  ‘Yeah, but minor ones. They don’t really change the meaning of the sentences.’

  ‘You are just saying it to make me less tense, right?’

  Riya smiled. ‘Let’s eat dinner. No point over-rehearsing. We are all set. Relax,’ she said.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. I made some daal, but chapatis will take time. Should I just make some rice? Daal-chawal?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I’ll help you.’

  We went to her kitchen. She cooked dinner and I made a salad of tomatoes and cucumber with salt, pepper and lemon juice. I set the table while she cooked the food.

  We sat down to eat, facing each other at the dining table.

  ‘When will you arrive in Dumraon?’ I said as I mixed the daal and rice.

  ‘You won’t freak out if I’m there, no?’

  ‘Are you stupid? Just come with me tomorrow morning.’

  ‘No, no. I can’t. Too much work,’ she said.

  ‘So when?’ I said.

  ‘Tuesday morning with the Foundation people. You’ve told them about me, right?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. I had already given Riya Samantha’s number. Riya’s car would follow the Foundation’s contingent. They would all come together.

  ‘The salad is nice,’ she said.

  ‘It’s nothing. So simple,’ I said.

  ‘Simple and nice. I like it. I like simple and nice, Madhav.’

  Is that how she sees me too—simple and nice? Or am I too simple and too nice?

  Post dinner, we cleaned up the kitchen and washed the dishes. We came back to the living room. Riya reclined on the diwan. ‘I’m so tired.’

  I checked the time. It was ten.

  ‘I better leave,’ I said.

  Riya coughed again. I got her a glass of warm water.

  ‘After this speech, your treatment is our first priority. We need to find that allergen or whatever,’ I said.

  ‘I’m fine. See, it’s gone now,’ she said.

  She shut her eyes and patted the mattress, signalling for me to sit next to her. She then put her head on my lap and turned on her side towards me, her eyes closed, by all accounts fast asleep.

  ‘You want to sleep here?’

  No answer.

  I got a sheet and pillow from her bedroom. I placed the pillow under her head and the sheet over her.

  She smiled in gratitude, like a happy baby.

  ‘I’m going,’ I mouthed silently against her temple.

  She shook her head.

  What? I wondered to myself. What does she want?

  She held on to me when I tried to move.

  ‘I’ll stay?’ I said.

  She didn’t react. This is what girls do. At crucial moments, they won’t give you a straight answer. What’s a guy to do?

  ‘I’ll stay for a bit?’ I said.

  She nodded.

  Thank God for some guidance.

  ‘Okay, I’m tired too. If I stay, I need to lie down as well.’

  She moved aside, eyes still shut, making space for me. I was shocked. Riya actually wanted me to lie down with her.

  I slid in next to her, as quietly as possible, lest s
he woke up fully and came to her senses.

  ‘Sleeping?’ I said, giving her an awkward cuddle.

  She nodded. Girl nonsense, again. I grinned. How could she respond if she was asleep?

  ‘Me too,’ I said. I think it is acceptable, almost necessary, for men and women to lie to one another.

  She turned on her side and placed her arm around me. She also curled up a little, so her chest would not come too close to mine. Only her arms and knees touched me.

  Girls are really good at such stuff. Even in sleep, they can contort themselves to maintain the boundaries of appropriate physical contact.

  I shut my eyes. Of course, I could not, just could not sleep. I wanted to hold her close. I wanted to kiss her. Restless, I placed an arm around her. I think girls actually believe guys can casually place their arms around them with no other idea in their heads.

  I didn’t have courage to do anything else. Maybe she is getting comfortable with me, my mind told me. Why rush it? Chill, Madhav, chill.

  The same mind came up with a different theory a few seconds later. What if she wants you to do something? She’s created the setting. Now if you don’t act, she will probably think you are a wimp. Do something, Madhav. Don’t just chill.

  The stress of two conflicting ideas in my head made me restless. Riya’s smooth arm on me made things worse. I tossed and turned. Meanwhile, she slept.

  Two hours later, Riya opened her eyes. I had involuntarily poked her shoulder. I had pins and needles everywhere from trying not to move.

  ‘What is it?’ she said sleepily.

  ‘You’re awake?’ I said, all sparkly voiced.

  ‘You woke me up,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said and patted her shoulder. ‘Go back to sleep.’

  ‘Are you tense?’

  A shiver went down my spine. How did she know? God has given too many senses to women.

  ‘A little bit.’

  ‘Don’t worry. You will perform fine.’

  ‘Huh? What?’ I said. What is she talking about? Then it struck me.

  ‘Oh, yes. I’ve done my best. The rest is up to Mr Gates.’

  ‘Exactly. Now sleep,’ she said and closed her eyes again.

  ‘Riya.’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘I want to say something, Riya.’

  ‘Shh,’ she said, eyes still shut. She placed a finger on my lips.

  ‘Say it to Bill Gates first,’ she said and drifted back to sleep.

  ‘Thirty minutes? Our programme lasts an hour,’ I said, my voice indignant.