‘Trouble, brother, trouble,’ Shailesh said, after a minute.
‘But she kissed him,’ Ashu said.
‘Toys. Told you about rich people and their toys,’ Shailesh said.
I ate my food. My friends further analysed the situation. In my heart I knew Riya didn’t see me as a toy. We had a connection. But my heart can be over-imaginative and stupid.
‘I’ll talk to her,’ I said.
‘What? Enough talking. Now do,’ Raman said.
‘Do what?’ I said.
Raman shook his head. Everyone smiled.
‘Listen, Madhav, I don’t want to break your heart. But you do know such a girl is beyond you,’ Raman said.
‘What do you mean?’ I said, putting my fork down on the table.
‘Look at them. Look at you. You forgot your aukaat or what?’
Raman had spoken in a flat, controlled voice. However, it hurt. It hurt like he had taken his blunt fork and jabbed it into my chest. It hurt because he didn’t think I deserved Riya. It hurt because he had spoken the truth.
‘Why does she hang out with me all the time?’ I said. ‘She can have all the rich friends she wants. In fact, she does.’
‘You are the new exotic creature in her life. She’s bored with everything else,’ Raman said.
‘Are you always this pessimistic?’ Ashu said. Only the fat kid supported me. I transferred the gulab jamun from my plate on to his.
‘The statistical probability is low,’ Shailesh said, in his academic voice. ‘However, my friend Raman should know that love does happen between classes.’
‘If this is love, why is she avoiding a relationship?’ Raman said. He stood up to leave. He had finished his dinner and what he wanted to say.
Ashu thanked me for the gulab jamun. ‘Raman has no experience with girls. You are doing well. Take it slow. Everything will be fine,’ he said.
‘What do you think, Shailesh?’ I said.
Of the four of us, I trusted Shailesh’s judgement the most. He topped the class and was the most well-read. Of course, like us, he had little experience with women. He drank another glass of water.
‘Yes, don’t rush it. However, don’t stall it either,’ Shailesh said.
‘What does that mean?’ Ashu said on my behalf.
‘Keep it slow, but keep escalating,’ Raman said.
‘Escalating? What? How?’ I said.
‘What’s the clearest sign a girl likes you?’ Shailesh said.
‘She spends time with you?’ I said.
‘Wrong,’ Shailesh said and stood up as well.
‘So then?’ I said.
‘You know the answer. Now do it,’ Shailesh said and left.
‘What do you want to talk about?’ Riya said.
She had worn a lemon-coloured chikan salwar-kameez to college that day. We sat under the big banyan tree in between classes. Her hair blew in all directions in the afternoon breeze.
‘Thanks for the party,’ I said.
‘You are welcome. Like I told you, it isn’t really my scene but my parents wanted to do it.’
‘Riya, that’s your world. It was me who didn’t fit in.’
‘I can fit in, but I can’t relate to it. I’d rather have a meaningful conversation over chai than catered sushi with plastic smiles.’
‘How’s Rohan? Sorry, Ro,’ I said.
‘He made quite an impression on you. He’s cool, no?’
‘See, you find him cool. That is your world,’ I said.
‘He’s over the top and a bit of a show-off. But at least Rohan’s fun. The rest are all boring businessmen who only talk money and property.’
‘Go have fun then,’ I said and looked away from her.
She tugged at my elbow.
‘Anyway, forget the party. Eye contact, please.’
Eyes squinting against the mid-morning sun, she draped her yellow dupatta around her face. She looked like a bunch of yellow flowers. I had to be firm. I ignored how cute she was, lest it weaken my resolve.
‘What did you want to talk about?’ she asked again.
‘The kiss,’ I said.
Riya giggled. ‘I can’t believe I am the girl and you are the guy. The guy wants to talk about it.’
‘Very funny. Now can we discuss it?’
‘What about the kiss? You forced it on me.’
Her answer stumped me. I didn’t know what to say.
‘I. . .I did it because. . .’ I fumbled for words.
‘Yes, why? Why did you do it, Mr Jha?’
‘Because I. . .I love you.’
Riya burst out laughing. I didn’t like her laughter this time.
‘Can you please be serious? Your casual behaviour hurts me,’ I said.
She composed herself and sat cross-legged under the tree.
‘Okay, fine, Madhav, I will be serious. I laughed because I don’t think you are in love with me.’
‘Oh, really? How do you know that?’
‘Have you been in love before?’
‘No.’
‘So how do you know it’s love?’
Her confusing words left me tongue-tied.
‘How do you know it’s not?’ I said after half a minute.
‘I know it is not. We are both too young, inexperienced but curious. Sure, we like each other. But love? Please.’
‘Riya, you have no idea how much you mean to me. I would do anything for you. Anything,’ I said.
Our eyes locked. For a few seconds, even the articulate Miss Riya Somani didn’t have words.
‘Madhav, you mean a lot to me too. But. . .’
‘But what?’
‘I am not sure if I want a relationship right now. With anyone.’
How does one answer that? I had no idea.
‘I don’t mean that much to you then,’ I said.
‘We hang out all the time. Aren’t we almost a couple?’
‘So what’s wrong with the next step?’
The bell rang for class. We stood up to leave.
‘What’s the next step, Madhav?’ she said, as we walked towards class.
I scratched my head to think of an answer.
‘Become my girlfriend.’
‘Oh. And what does that involve? Getting physical?’
‘Maybe. That’s often part of it.’
She smiled and shook her head in an all-knowing manner.
We stopped as we reached our respective classrooms.
‘Please, Riya,’ I said. ‘Please be my girlfriend.’
‘Is this a proposal?’ she said.
‘If that’s how you see it.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘You’ll tell me after class?’
She grabbed my shoulders and turned me towards my classroom.
Riya didn’t come to college the next day. I briefed my friends-cum-relationship-experts about the proposal while eating lunch in the dining hall.
Shailesh felt I had come across as desperate. Ashu thought I had handled it well.
‘Well, did she tell you her decision afterwards?’ Raman said.
‘No. And today she is absent,’ I said.
‘See? Desperate. She’s skipped college to avoid you,’ Shailesh said.
‘To avoid me?’
Shailesh shrugged.
‘You better get an answer,’ Raman said.
‘You better do it with her,’ Shailesh said. Everyone fell silent.
‘Do what?’ I said. The boys guffawed.
‘You guys are sick.’
‘She’s using you. Time pass until a real guy comes along,’ Shailesh said, picking his teeth with a toothpick.
‘Ignore Shailesh. Find out why she’s absent. Message her,’ Ashu said.
‘Should I? She’s supposed to answer my question,’ I said.
The boys didn’t answer either. I came to my room after lunch. I had a mobile phone now. Even though expensive, I would use it sometimes to call Riya.
I composed a message. Did not see yo
u in college. Everything OK?
I deleted the text and re-typed it three times. Finally, I pressed send.
The worst wait in life is waiting for someone to text back. Riya didn’t answer for an hour. It felt like a week. After that one hour, I sent the same message again. That way, it would come across as a double delivery rather than me being desperate. It is funny how, when friendship moves towards a relationship, every message requires awareness and strategy. The second message went, disguised as a screw-up of Airtel.
She didn’t reply for another hour. I wanted to call her. It felt lame. I had proposed to her. The least she could do was give me a reply.
I also felt scared. What if she said no? Maybe her silence meant no. What if she stopped talking to me? Panic gripped me. I wondered if proposing to her was the worst mistake of my life.
I decided to call her. I typed her number six times. But I did not press the green call button. I didn’t have the courage.
My phone beeped. I had a new message. My heart beat fast as I opened it.
Am sick ☹. Viral fever. Resting at home.
Relief coursed through me. She had sent back a normal, harmless message. I wanted to ask about the proposal, but it felt like a bad time. Unsure, I froze. Why don’t they teach us how to talk to girls?
Get well soon, I sent after rigorous analysis and deliberation in my head.
Thanks, she said.
Miss you, I typed. Before I could think I pressed send.
She didn’t respond for a minute. It felt like a decade. Had I messed up again? Was it not the right thing to say?
Then come home. Cheer me up.
Her message felt like a thousand red rose petals on my face. I checked my timetable. Damn, I had four important, un-skippable classes. I couldn’t go.
See you in an hour, I said. Classes can wait. Love can’t.
10
I knocked on the door of Riya’s bedroom, located on the first floor of her house.
‘Come in, Madhav,’ Riya said and sniffled. ‘Meet your sick friend.’
She was in bed, leaning against the backrest with her legs stretched out. She wore a white night-suit with pink dots all over it. She looked like candy, more cute than ill. Viral fever suited her.
‘Wait. Come back in again. I should sit with a thermometer in my mouth,’ she said.
I smiled and sat on a chair near her bed.
‘How are you feeling?’ I said.
She shifted to the side and bent to look under the bed. She pulled out a guitar. Strumming it once, she started to sing.
‘Terrible, I feel terrible. And I need a hug.’
I looked at her, surprised.
‘Because I’m sure. That is my only cure.’
She saw my shell-shocked face and winked at me. Even though she sang as a joke, I loved her voice and the goofy lyrics of her song.
‘You sing well,’ I said, ‘and the guitar-playing is not bad either.’
‘Ha ha. I feel terrible. I also sing terribly,’ she said.
‘No you don’t. You’re good,’ I said.
She smiled and kept her guitar aside. She spread her arms.
‘What?’ I said.
‘I said I need a hug.’
It is funny how women feel they have the right to demand physical affection whenever they want, but men can’t. Like a trained pet, I stood up and bent to embrace her.
‘You don’t have fever,’ I said as I held her. Her body felt cold, in fact.
‘I did a few hours ago. I took a nap and now I am better.’
‘You are fine.’
She mock-frowned. ‘I am a sick girl. Please take care of me,’ she said in a baby voice.
I took that as a sign that she was in a good mood. I voiced what had been haunting me for the past twenty-four hours.
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘The proposal.’
‘Baby, why are you doing this to us?’
‘I can say the same thing to you.’
We locked eyes for a few seconds. I came forward to kiss her. She ducked, and my lips landed on her forehead.
‘What?’ I said.
‘That was sweet. I like forehead kisses,’ she said.
I gently took hold of her chin and raised her face. Our eyes met again. I leaned forward to kiss her again.
She moved her face away with a jerk.
‘What, baby?’ I said. If she could call me baby, I could too.
‘No. No, Madhav, no.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t want to. I’m not comfortable.’
‘We did it earlier.’
‘Yes, okay, we did. But I thought about it and I don’t want to.’
‘You don’t want to be with me?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Well, are you my girlfriend?’
‘No.’
‘What are we then?’
‘Friends?’
‘You allow friends to hold you like this?’
I had not let her go. She gently moved away.
‘Okay, I’m your half-girlfriend.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah. I’m close to you. We spend time together. We can have affectionate hugs. But nothing more.’
‘Nothing more? What is more?’
‘Well, you know what constitutes more.’
We heard a knock on the door.
‘It’s the maid. Can you sit on the chair again, please?’ she said. I moved back to my seat. The maid brought in a tray with two glasses of orange juice. Riya and I took one each. We sipped our drinks in silence.
I wondered what she meant when she said ‘half-girlfriend’. Where was my expert panel when I needed it?
‘What were you saying? Half?’ I said after the maid left.
She nodded. She seemed clear on what she had in mind.
‘So we are more than friends?’ I said.
‘Well, more than just casual friends.’
‘But I don’t get to kiss you?’
‘You are obsessed with kissing, aren’t you? Is that all I am to you, a pair of lips?’
She finished her glass of juice. It left a thin orange moustache on her face. Yes, I wanted to kiss that orange moustache.
The maid knocked on the door again. She brought in a giant bouquet. It had three dozen fat pink roses with thin silk ribbons tying them together.
‘Wow,’ Riya said. ‘Who sent these? You?’
I shook my head. I couldn’t afford such fancy flowers.
The maid placed the bouquet on the bedside table and left.
‘It’s Rohan,’ Riya said, reading the ‘get well soon’ tag.
‘Isn’t he in London?’
‘Yes, but he has contacts here.’
‘Are you in touch with him?’
‘Aha, my half-boyfriend is already possessive.’
‘I’m just asking.’
‘Not really. Dad must have told him I’m sick.’
‘Why is he sending you flowers?’
‘Don’t read too much into it. He owns hotels. It’s easy for him. His secretary must have asked a hotel in Delhi to send them.’
I remained silent. I had no idea. Maybe rich people found it normal to send flowers across continents to other rich people who had viral fever. I stood up to leave. She came to the door to see me off.
‘So, we cool?’ she said.
I nodded. In reality, I didn’t know what to say. I needed my friends, like, now.
I summoned my expert panel for an urgent meeting. All of us sat cross-legged on the grass lawns outside Rudra. I narrated my conversation with Riya, my failed attempts at kissing her, her frequent hugs and finally the deal on the table—half-girlfriend. I skipped the flower delivery, though. I didn’t want to bring another variable or person into the picture.
‘Half isn’t bad. Depends on how you look at it,’ Ashu said. ‘Half-empty or half-full.’
I idly tugged at blades of grass, waitin
g for everyone in my expert panel to make their opening remarks.
‘Pretty sucky, if you ask me,’ Shailesh said.
‘Pessimist,’ Ashu said. ‘Always glass is half-empty.’
‘No. The half that is missing is pretty vital,’ Shailesh said.
‘Raman?’ I said.
Raman let out a deep sigh. ‘Fuck, if a girl won’t get physical with you, it’s a warning sign,’ he said.
‘Hell, it’s more than a warning sign,’ Shailesh said. ‘It’s a fire brigade siren on maximum volume using thousand-watt amplifiers. Don’t you get it, Mr Dumraon? She is playing with you.’
‘Ashu, you agree?’ I said.
The fat Bihari, always soft and supportive, looked me in the eye.
‘Do you like her?’ he said.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Do you trust her?’
‘I think so. The way she hugged me again and again. Or how she called me home. Or how she sits in her night clothes in front of me. I don’t know. It means something, right?’
‘What is your gut feeling?’
‘My gut is bloody confused. That’s why I am asking you guys.’
An army of intellectual men cannot solve the riddle created by an indecisive woman. My limited-experience panel struggled for words.
‘Say no. No half-girlfriend. All or nothing,’ Shailesh said.
‘All means what?’ I said.
‘All means she is your girlfriend, in private and in public,’ Raman said.
I pondered over their advice. At one level they made sense. However, when I was with Riya, she also seemed to make sense.
‘What do I do? She asked if we were cool and I nodded,’ I said.
‘This stuff is not discussed. This stuff is done,’ Shailesh said.
‘How?’
‘Call her to your room.’
‘And then?’ I said.
The three boys looked at each other and smiled meaningfully.
‘And then what?’ I said.
‘Make Bihar proud,’ Raman said and squeezed my shoulder.
11
We had practised for less than ten minutes when she got a stomach cramp. She held her stomach and gestured to stop the game.
‘I’m not fully okay after the viral attack,’ she said.
She walked off the court and sank to the ground. She buried her face in her hands.
‘I need to rest. And I’m a little cold in these.’ She pointed to her extra-small red shorts. They barely covered her upper thighs.