sonu kumar
Posted On: 09-04-2019
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Half Girlfriend

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Forty

'No Indian singer here. I’m sorry,’ she said.
I had come to Tribeca Nation, a small bar with thirty seats and a
tiny stage for solo vocalists. The singer had just finished her
performance.
I had gone up to her and told her I loved her voice. I asked her if
she would have a few minutes to sit with me. She looked at me
suspiciously.
‘I just have some questions. Nothing else,’ I had told her.
She ordered a Jack Daniel’s whisky and Diet Coke, and urged me
to try the same.
Erica was twenty-two years old. She was from Rhode Island, a
state north of New York. She wanted to act in a Broadway play, and
tried her luck at auditions during the day. At night, she earned a living
through singing gigs.
‘I finished high school and came here.’
I looked at her.
‘No college, sorry.’ She grinned. Over the past few weeks, I had
learnt a thing or two about Americans. If they wanted something, they
went for it. They didn’t think about the risks so much. Which Indian
parent would allow a girl to sing in bars at night after class XII, I
wondered?
‘I really need to find this girl,’ I said, now two whiskies down and
more talkative.
‘Love. Makes us do crazy things,’ she said.
‘Well, I am going a little crazy.’
‘Love.’ She laughed. 'At least it keeps us singers in business.’
I gave her Riya’s description.
‘You spoke to agents?’
‘As many as I could. No luck yet.’
‘If she has a stage name, it can get quite difficult.’
‘Well, she is Indian. I am hoping someone will remember her. Ihave two months left.’
‘I’ll let you know in case I spot someone.’
‘That would be helpful.’
‘I don’t have your number.’
We shared contacts. She recommended other bars.
‘Here,’ she passed me a tissue she had scribbled names on. ’These
are places that give new singers a chance.’
‘Thanks,’ I said.
‘She’s a lucky girl,’ Erica said.
‘It’s me who needs some luck now,’ I said.
*
One and a half months later
‘See you at Pylos then. At 7th Street and First Avenue. Eight
o’clock.’ Shailesh ended the call.
Pylos is a high-end Greek restaurant located in the East Village.
Earthen terracotta pots with spotlights dangled from the ceiling. In
Bihar, nobody would think that the humble matki could play
chandelier.
Shailesh and Jyoti had invited me out to dinner. Jyoti had brought
her friend Priya along, without warning me.
‘Priya is a journalist with Al Jazeera in New York. We went to high
school together,’ Jyoti said. Priya looked like she was in her early
twenties. Fashionable glasses, slim figure, attractive. She wore a navy-
blue top with a white pencil skirt and a long silver chain that dangled
down till her navel, which was visible when she stretched.
‘This is Madhav. He’s here on a United Nations project,’ Shailesh
said. Cue for Priya and me to shake hands and smile.
I told her about my internship and what I did back home in India.
‘You run a rural Indian school? That is so cool,’ she said.
‘Thanks,’ I said.
We ordered a bottle of Greek wine. We also asked for motissaka,
which is sauteed eggplant and tomato layered with caramelised onions,
herbs and a cheese sauce. A mountain-shaped dish, piled withvegetables, arrived on our table.
I ate a spoonful.
‘This is like chokha,’ I said.
‘Chokha?' Priya said.
‘It’s a popular dish in Bihar. Which part of India are you from?’
‘I’m from Minnesota,’ she said. I realized that NRls born in the US
did not like being referred to as Indians.
‘Oh,’ I said.‘Anyway. This is similar to a local dish we have.’
‘My parents are from Andhra Pradesh,’ she said.
Shailesh refilled my glass of wine.
Jyoti ordered more food. We had a trio of Greek dips, consisting of
tzatziki, a thick yogurt dip; taramosalata, a dip made of fish eggs; and
melitzanosalata, made with char-grilled eggplants and extra-virgin
Greek olive oil. It came with pita bread.
‘I’m sorry, but this bread is also like our chapati,’ l said.
‘Yes, indeed. These are all flatbreads. From Greece and Turkey to
the Middle East and all the way down to South Asia, flatbreads are
popular,’ Priya said.
‘Is she Wikipedia?' Shailesh asked Jyoti and we all laughed.
‘She is. Just be happy she’s not discussing the Greek economic
crisis because you came to a Greek place,’ Jyoti said.
'Oh no, please. I read enough economic reports in the bank,’
Shailesh said.
‘Hey, I’m a nerd and a proud one. Cheers.’ Priya raised her glass.
All of us lifted ours.
‘Don’t worry, UN boy, I won’t bore you with my little nuggets of
wisdom anymore,’ Priya said. She clinked her glass against mine.
The girls decided to make a trip to the ladies’ room together. Why
do they go together for a solo activity?
‘Like her?’ Shailesh said, after the girls had left.
‘Huh?’
‘Priya. She’s giving you the eye, dude. Isn’t she hot?’
‘What?’ I said.‘You play your cards right and she can be yours.’
I shook my head.
‘I'm not kidding,’ Shailesh said.
‘Not interested.’
'I'm not asking you to marry her.Take her out, have fun. Loosen
up.’
‘Very funny, I hardly have any time left in New York, Only two
more weeks,'
‘All the more reason, Don’t go back without some romance. Or a
score,’ He winked at me.
‘I have a final report to finish, I haven’t even started to pack. Plus,
so many bars to go to,’
‘You won't give up on this Riya nonsense?’
I kept quiet and finished my third glass of wine,
'You’ve visited or called over a thousand places,’ Shailesh said, ‘In
two weeks it all ends anyway. I am tired, too. Just giving it my best
shot,’
‘Idiot you are,’ Shailesh said,
We heard giggles as the girls returned.
'My friend here thinks you’re a little serious. But hot in a brooding
sort of way,'Jyoti announced, Priya smacked Jyoti's arm, 'Shut up. You
can't repeat a private conversation,’ said Priya, blushing as she sat
down again, Shailesh kicked my leg. Act, buddy, he seemed to say.
The waiter brought us another bottle of wine. I poured my fourth
glass, ‘For dessert I would recommend a drained Greek yogurt served
with fresh cherries, thyme-scented Greek honey and walnuts,’ the
waiter said. The girls swooned over the description and ordered two
servings.
‘Where are we going next?’ Priya said.
Well, we are the boring banker couple. We have early morning
calls,’ Shailesh said. ‘So we will head home. Why don’t Madhav and
you check out other places in the neighbourhood?’
‘Sure, I don’t mind. I could show Madhav the East Village areaaround Pylos. I used to live here earlier,’
‘Actually, I have other places to go to,’ I said. I did have five places
on my list tonight.
‘Madhav, the lady wants to go out,’ Shailesh said. He kicked me
again under the table.
‘Stop kicking me,’ I said.The wine had made me more confident.
Jyoti looked startled by the sudden rise in my voice.
‘I need to go.Thanks for dinner. What is my share?’ I stood up.
My head felt heavy. I had drunk too much.
‘Sit down, Madhav. We are trying to help you,’ Shailesh said.
‘What am I? A fucking patient who needs help?’
My wine glass slipped from my hand and fell on the floor. There
was shattered glass all over the floor.
‘You do need help, Madhav. You’re losing the plot,’ Shailesh said.
Customers at other tables were looking at us. A waiter came to
remove the broken glass.
‘We should go. Shailesh, did you pay the hill?’Jyoti said.
‘Did I say something wrong?’ Priya said.
‘No,’ Jyoti said to Priya.
‘So what just happened?’ Priya said.
‘The boys go back a long way. They have their way of talking.
Don’t worry about it.’
Shailesh took hold of my upper arm. He dragged me out of the
restaurant. The cold December breeze hit us all.
‘You are drunk,’ Shailesh said in a slow, deliberately calm voice.
‘Let’s take a cab home. We will drop Priya on the way.’
‘I am not drunk,’ I said, even though I found it hard to keep my
balance on the icy street.
‘You drank wine like water,’ Shailesh said.
A yellow cab stopped next to us. The girls got in. Shailesh shoved
me into the front seat. He sat behind with the girls.
‘83rd and Third please, with a stop at 37th first,’Jyoti said.
I opened the front door of the car.‘I have to visit five bars,’ I said and stepped out.
Priya looked at Jyoti, confused.
‘You are drunk. Come back in so we can leave. It’s cold outside,’
Shailesh said, in a firm but annoyed voice.
‘I am not drunk,’ I screamed, stumbling on the road and falling on
all fours. I twisted my right ankle and it hurt like hell.
‘Can you cut the drama and come back in?’ Shailesh said.
The girls saw me wince and were about to step out when Shailesh
stopped them.
'Are you coming or not? I'm running out of patience, bro,' he said.
‘I have to visit five bars,’ I said again, still wincing from the pain
of the fall.
‘Chutiya,’ Shailesh said. He slammed the door shut and the cab
zoomed off. A few cold drops fell on my face. I looked up at the sky.
Little white snowflakes were falling everywhere. A homeless man
offered a hand to help me stand up. Only the most pathetic can help
the most pathetic.
‘I have to visit five bars,’ I told the homeless man.

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