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

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Four

Three months later
'Did you just put your hand on mine?’she whispered, but loud
enough for people around us in the movie theatre to look our way.
'Accidentally,’ I said.
'Learning big English words, are we?’ she said.
'I'm trying.’
‘Mr Madhav Jha, you have come to see a movie. Focus on that.’
'I'm trying,’ I said again. I turned my attention back to Shah Rukh
Khan. He had rejoined college and was singing ‘Main hoon na’ to
anyone in need of reassurance.
We had come to the Odeon Cinema in Connaught Place. Riya had
finally agreed to see a movie with me. She had lost a basketball bet -
she had challenged me to score a basket from half-court in one try.
‘Now that will be a super shot,’ she had said.
‘What do I get? A movie treat?’
‘You can’t do it.’
I had given it a try and failed the first week. Half-court shots are
tough. I couldn’t do it in the next two weeks either.
‘See, even destiny doesn’t want us to go out,’ she had said.
In the fourth week, I put in all the focus I had and made my shot.
The ball hit the ring, circled around it twice and fell into the basket.
‘Yes,’ I screamed.
Even though she had lost the bet, she clapped.
‘So, do I get a date?’ I said.
‘It’s not a date. We just go for a movie. Like friends.’
‘Isn’t that what high-class people call a date?’
‘No.’
‘What’s a date then?’
‘You want to see the movie with me or not?’ she had said, her
hands on her hips.The hands-on-hips pose meant no further questions. In the three
months I had known her, I knew she hated being pushed. I thought
maybe that was how rich people were-—somewhat private. We
overdid the familiarity in our villages anyway.
Now, as Shah Rukh Khan continued his song, I wondered what I
meant to her. We met in college every day, and ended up having tea at
least three times a week. I did most of the talking. I wou!d f tell her
stories from the residences, or ‘rez’, as the students called them—the
fancy word for hostels in Stephen’s. I was in Rudra-North, and told
her tales of messy rooms, late-night carrom matches and the respect
we needed to show seniors. She listened intently, even smiled
sometimes. When I asked herabout her home, she didn't say much.
Back in Dumraon it is unthinkable for friends to not share every detail
about themselves. High-class people have this concept called space,
which means you cannot ask them questions or give them opinions
about certain aspects of their life.
Am I special to her? I kept asking myself. Sometimes I saw her
chatting with other guys and felt insanely jealous. My insistence on
seeing a movie together was to find out what Riya Somani really
thought of Madhav Jha. I had held her hand to figure out where I
stood. Given her reaction, nowhere.
In fact, she removed her arm from the armrest for the rest of the
movie. She seemed upset, even though she never said a word. She
kept watching the film.
*
‘Is everything okay?’ I said. She sipped her drink in silence. We
had walked from Odeon to Keventers, famous for its milkshakes sold
in glass bottles.
‘Uh huh,’ she said, indicating a yes. I hated this response of hers.
We had finished two-thirds of our milkshakes without talking to
each other. She looked straight ahead, lost in thought. I felt she would
cry if poked.
‘I’m sorry.’‘What?’ she said, surprised.
‘About placing my hand on yours,’ I said. I didn’t want my stupid
move to backfire.
‘When?’
‘During the movie.You know, I...’
‘I don’t even remember that,’ she said, interrupting me.
‘Oh,’ I said, and felt a wave of relief run through me. ‘Then why
do you look upset?’
‘Never mind,’ she said. Silent Riya’s typical response. She brushed
aiide strands of hair from her face.
‘Why don’t you ever tell me anything?’ I said, my voice a mixture
of plea and protest.
She finished her milkshake and placed the empty bottle on a
table.‘Ready to go?’ she said instead.
‘Riya, we never talk about you. Am I only good enough to play
basketball with?’
‘What?’
‘We meet, play, eat and talk. But you never share anything
important with me.’
‘I don’t share much about my life with anyone, Madhav.’
‘Am I just anyone?’
A waiter arrived to collect the empty bottles. She spoke only after
lie left.‘You are a friend.’
‘So?’
‘So what? I have many friends. I don’t share stuff with them.’
‘Am I just like every other friend of yours? Is there nothing special
about me?’
She smiled. ‘Well, you do play basketball better than anyone else.’
I stood up. I didn’t find her funny.
‘Hey, wait.’ Riya pulled me down again.
I sat down with a stern expression.
‘Why do you want to know about my life?’ she said.
‘It matters to me. Unlike your other friends, I can tell if somethingis bothering you. And, if something is bothering you, it bothers me. I
want to know things about you, okay? But getting you to talk is like a
dentist pulling teeth.’
She laughed and interrupted my rant.
‘I have a fucked-up family. What do you want to know?’ she said.
I looked at her, puzzled and astonished at her choice of words.
More than anything, I could not associate any family with a BMW
to be fucked up.
Her eyes met mine, perhaps for a final check to see if I deserved
her trust. ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ she said.
*
Her plush car dropped us off at India Gate. The soft evening sun
cast long shadows of the monument and of us on the red sandstone
pavement. We walked the mile-long distance ail the way up to
Rashtrapati Bhavan. On these roads, far away from Bihar, India did
not come across as a poor country. Pigeons flocked the sky and
government babus from nearby offices scurried about, both trying to
reach home before it got dark.
We walked together. At least our shadows appeared to hold hands.
‘I don’t open up to people. At most I keep a journal, and even that
is rare. You know I’m a quiet person,’ Riya said.
‘I understand.’
‘Thanks. The problem is my family. They’re obsessed with money.
I’m not.’
‘That’s a good thing, right?’
‘I don’t know. Also, I don’t matter. My brothers do, because they
will take over the business one day. I’m supposed to shut up, get
married and leave. The high point of my life is to have kids and shop.’
‘And that’s not what you want to do?’
‘No!’ she almost shouted. ‘You know me better than that. Don’t
you?’
‘Sorry.’
‘Sucks being a girl in this country, I tell you. Sucks.’‘You seem upset. Did something happen today?’
‘I told them I want to study music after college. They want me to
marry into some rich Marwari family and live like a queen. I don’t
want to live like a queen. That is not what I dream of.’
‘Trust me, kings and queens are overrated,’ I said.
She remained silent.
‘What do you want, Riya? Do you have a dream?’
'Well, dreams suck.You get attached to them and they don’t come
true.'
’Sometimes they do.’
‘Not in my case.’
'What is your dream?’ I asked again.
She looked at me. ‘You’ll laugh.’
‘Try me.’
Site smiled.‘Okay, so, I have this dream. I want to play music and
sing...in a bar in New York.’
'Wow.’
'What? You think it’s stupid, right?’
No. That’s quite specific. Singing in a bar in New York.’
'Yes.That’s it. I don’t want to be a famous singer or a rock star. I
don’t want to marry a billionaire. I just want to sing in peace,
surrounded by passionate people. I want to own a house in Manhattan,
myhouse, filled with books and music CDs. I want to play basketball
on weekends. I don’t want to check out a dozen lehengas for my
engagement.’
'Sounds like you have it all figured out.’
‘Not really. Maybe it’s just an escapist fantasy. But I have had it
since I was twelve. We had gone to New York. The city blew me away.
I saw people who loved what they did. They weren’t rich, but happy.
And there was this lady in a bar.. .she sang from her heart, unaware of
everything around her.’
The sun was setting, and the sky turned from orange to dark grey.
We had now reached the point near Rashtrapati Bhavan where DelhiPolice guards tell you to stop and turn around. She continued to tell
me about her New York trip.
‘In fact, I took up basketball because I saw an NBA game live at
Madison Square Garden in New York.’
‘You’ve seen an NBA game live?’ I said.
‘Yeah.The atmosphere.. .it’s electric.You should see one sometime,
Madhav.’
I shrugged. ‘Anyway, I like your dream, Riya,’ I said. ‘It’s doable,
not unreal.’
‘Unreal, like?’ she said.
‘Like becoming a top actress or the prime minister. You just want
something simple.’
She smiled. ‘Nothing is simple for a girl in a family like mine,’ she
said.
We walked in silence for a few minutes.
‘I feel better,’ she said after a while. '
‘What?’
She looked at me. The last of the daylight tinted her face orange,
making her look ethereal. I wanted to give her a hug.
‘I feel better after talking to you.Thanks,’ she smiled.
The sun vanished and the road became dark. Her skin glowed in
the amber lights of Rajpath, I took a chance and held her hand.
‘Another accident?’ she said, but did not pull her hand away.
We laughed together. She spoke again. ‘Even my uncles are the
same. Everyone sides with my parents.’
She continued to talk and I continued to listen, even though my
entire attention was on how lovely her hand felt in mine.

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