Half Girlfriend (31 page)

‘You are still visiting places. Five bars, five bars, you kept saying.

What the fuck, Madhav?’

'I never went. I couldn’t. I passed out.’

‘How did you get home?’Jyoti said.

‘I woke up shivering near a bus stop. Took a cab and came home.’

Jyoti and Shailesh looked at each other.

‘You might be right, Shailesh. I may need a psychiatrist,’ I said.

Shailesh gave me a sarcastic smile.

Jyoti took the cream cheese and applied it on three bagels. I took a

sip of black coffee.

‘Anyway, guys, I’m sorry I lost control. I hurt you guys, after all

you have done for me. Enough is enough. No more visiting live music

venues.’

‘Really? Promise?’ Shailesh took a bite of his bagel.

‘Yes. I want to finish my final report. I want to see a bit more of

New York, even though it’s snowing and cold. More than anything, I

want to spend my remaining free time with you both, because who

knows when we will meet again.’

Jyoti smiled. She looked at Shailesh, gesturing for him to forgive

me.

‘And if Priya is brave enough to meet me once more, I will

apologize to her, too.’

Shailesh stood up. He came around to give me a bear hug.

'Is it okay? Say something,’ I said to him.

‘Idiot you are, what else to say?’ Shailesh smiled.

Bye, Riya Somoni, I said in my head.

*

‘What size? Speak louder, I can’t hear you,’ I said to my mother

over the phone.

I had come to a store called Century 21 to buy gifts for people back

home.

‘Take large size, and get me a cardigan with buttons,’ she said.

I had brought candies for the entire school. It was not the smartest

idea. I now needed a new suitcase just to carry the treats.

‘Cardigan is done. Do you need anything else?’

‘I need some bras. I heard you get good ones there.’

‘Bye, Ma.’

*

One week before the internship ended, I handed over my final

report to Olara.

‘Thank you, Madhav. I look forward to reading your work,’ he

said.

‘Thanks, Olara.You’ve been a great guide these past few month...’

‘Well, you are a bright man. Did you finally apply for a permanent

position?’

‘I leave for India next Sunday.’

Olara smiled and patted my back.

I returned to my desk. My phone had a missed call from a contact I

had saved as ‘Erica,Tribeca Nation singer’.

I called her back.

‘Hi,’ I said as she picked up the call.

‘Hi. Mad-dav, right?’ she said.

‘Yes, the Indian guy you met at Tribeca Nation.’

‘How are you? You were looking for someone, right?’

Warmth tingled through me. I told myself to calm down. I had

promised Shailesh I’d quit.

‘Yes. I was.’

‘Any luck?’

‘Nope,’ I said.

‘Okay, so I don’t have much. This will confuse you even more.

But there could be a new tall Indian girl who sings.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I overheard.’

‘Who from?’

‘Customers at the bar.They spoke about this good-looking singer

and were trying to guess her nationality. Indian features, but quite fair-complexioned, that’s what they said. So it reminded me of you.’

‘And? What else did they say?’

‘They said she sang quite well. Jazz, a bit of rock...’

‘What? No, I mean where? Where did they hear her? Did you ask

them?’

‘Well, yes. They said at the Union Square Farmer’s Market on 14th

Street.’

‘Is it a bar?’

‘No, a farmer’s market is like a street fair. They have organic food

stalls, and a couple of random gigs sometimes.’

‘So what do I do?’

‘I don’t know. Sorry, they didn’t know more.’

‘Will the fair organizers know?’

‘I doubt it. Its too huge a place.You call check. Take train number

four to Union Square.’

‘Okay,’ I said.

‘Sorry, Mad-dav. I said I would confuse you. But that day you said

you don’t even know if she is here. Well, she might be.’

‘Thanks, Erica.’

42

Of course, my visit to Union Square proved useless. I didn’t have a

date or the exact location of the stall.

The farmer’s market is put up in the Union Square quadrangle, a

football-field sized area filled with over a hundred natural and

environment-friendly product stalls. A few stalls featured

performances ranging from juggling to music gigs. I passed organic

honey and fruit-based soap counters to reach the fair office.

‘Agents book the stalls. Then they call their own musicians on hire.

It’s quite impossible for us to trace them,’ a lady at the fair office told me.

I took the subway back home. I felt stupid. I had wasted an

evening I could have spent with my friends. I reached the 86th Street

stop. I walked out to find the streets filled with snow. It was cold and

dark. Still, under the city lights, New York, with its historic

skyscrapers and modern neon lights, looked pretty. As I walked home,

I passed restaurants with cosy interiors. Beautiful people chatted and

laughed as they ate their dinner. I wondered if I would ever, even for

one day in my life, be carefree like them.

*

On my last Saturday in New York, I decided to visit the tourist

attractions. I spent my morning visiting the Rockefeller Center, the

Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty. In the afternoon, I

decided to splurge. I went to watch an NBA game.

‘One ticket for the Knicks game, please,’ I said at the ticket counter.

Madison Square Garden, also known as the MSG or simply the

Garden, is a multi-purpose indoor arena in midtown Manhattan in

New York City. Located between Seventh and Eighth Avenues from

31st to 33rd Streets, it is situated atop Pennsylvania Station. I had

come to the Garden to watch a play-off game between the New York

Knicks and LA Lakers.

The Garden cost nearly a billion dollars to construct, making it one

of the most expensive stadiums in the world. I went inside, and was

astonished by what I saw. It was the best basketball court and spectator

stadium I had ever seen in my life.

The teams had towering players, many of them over six-and-a-half

feet tall. The Lakers wore yellow kits with a purple strip down die

side. The Knicks had on blue jerseys with an orange border.

I took my seat. It took me a minute to scan the huge arena and

figure out all the complicated scoreboards.The crowd of nearly twenty

thousand roared at every point scored.

I was in New York. However, I supported the LA Lakers. They had

Kobe Bryant, one of the worlds best basketball players and iny

favourite. He scored the most, over forty points in the game. I

wondered if an Indian player would ever join the NBA.

The game ended with the Lakers scoring an easy win. The crowd,

exhilarated from the game and the atmosphere, began to trickle out of

the stadium. I followed them to the exit.

*

As I came out of the MSG, I saw a couple of elderly people in

jackets with the New York City Tourism logo, waiting near the exit. An

elderly Hispanic woman walked slowly towards me.

‘Tourist?’ she said.

‘Yes, well, sort of,’ I said.

‘How your trip goes? Me Daisy, from the Senior Citizens for NYC

tourism. Sorry my English not good. I am Mexico originally.'

‘My trip is going quite well, thank you,’ I said. ‘And your English

is just fine.’

I could not believe I had commented on someone else’s English.

She held a bunch of brochures in her hand.

‘May I ask the favour? Will you practise English me five minutes?’

Daisy said.

I had to go home and pack. This was an unusual request anyway.

‘I join adult school to learn English.To practise I volunteer here

tourism department,’ Daisy persisted.

‘I actually have to go home.’

The older man with her took me aside.

‘Hi, I am Doug, a supervisor for the senior citizens for NYC

volunteer programme.’

I shook hands with him.

‘Please spare five minutes for her. She lives alone. She needs to

practise her English,’ Doug said.

‘Sir, my English is not so good. I am from India.’

‘Indians speak good English.’

‘Not all. I am also learning it.’

‘You are speaking good English now.’

‘Well, thank you, sir.’

‘Someone must have taught you.’

I sighed.

‘Five minutes,’ Doug said.

I nodded.

Doug left me with Daisy.

‘Hello, Madam Daisy. What would you like to talk about?’

‘Would you like brochure? To see attractions of weekend?’

‘Actually, I don’t think so. I leave soon... ’ I said but she

interrupted tne.

‘They free. Have look. We have discounted Broadway shows, a

food festival, a jazz and music fest...’

‘I will correct you. Please say, “they are free, have a look”,’ I said.

‘Sorry, sorry. That I say.’

‘I leave Monday. So I am afraid I won’t be able to do much,’ I said.

She looked disappointed. I figured she had to do her tourism job,

too. She possibly had a quota of people she needed to distribute

brochures to every day.

‘Fine, I’ll take them.Thank you.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ she said and cheered up again. ‘You fill small

survey for me. Two minutes.’

I put the brochures in my jacket pocket. She gave me a form

asking basic details about my visit and myself, ‘Can I leave now,

madam?’ I said, as politely as possible.

‘Enjoy rest of stay,’ she said and waved me goodbye.

‘Yes, yes.Thank you.’

I left the MSG compound and came to the street. Peak hours meant

cabs would be stuck in traffic forever. I checked the time. It was 7

p.m. I decided to walk the four-kilometre distance from Madison

Square Garden to Shailesh’s house.

43

'Surprise!’

A crowd of people screamed as I entered Shailesh’s house. Jyoti

had arranged an unexpected farewell party for me.

‘Wow,’ I said as I entered the apartment. I found twenty guests,

Shailesh and Jyoti’s friends, waiting for me.

‘Hey, Priya, good to see you,’ I said, wondering if she would slap

me.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘I’m really sorry about that night.’

‘Just go easy on the wine,’ she said and laughed. I smiled back at

her. She was really attractive. Many men at the party had their eyes on

her.

A black man came up to me.

‘Olara,’ I said and hugged him.

‘Your friends are damn nice. They dug out my number and invited

me.’

‘I'm so glad you came.’

Jyoti dragged me away from Olara to give a short speech.

‘I want to thank Shailesh and Jyoti, who hosted me, and treated me

like family,’ I said.

‘Cut it out, let’s party,’ Shailesh interrupted me. He offered

everyone tequila shots and turned up the volume of the music player.

Conversations required people to shout. Male bankers huddled

together to discuss expected bonuses. The girls made another group.

They discussed the best value offers in town, whether on Netflix or

Sunday brunch deals in Manhattan. I chatted with a few people.

‘Gates Foundation. They are like huge, man,’ one banker said to

me.

‘I just run a small school they fund,’ I said.

‘I need a Gates Foundation grant. Do they fund bankers who need

an apartment in Manhattan?’ said another. Everyone laughed.

I spoke to many of those present, but felt little connection with any

of them. I stepped away from the crowd and sat on the sofa. I took out

my phone to look at the pictures I had taken during the day. I had

taken some inside MSG.

‘You watched a Knicks game?’ I heard Priya’s voice from behind

me.

I turned to look at her.

‘Yes, I went today.’

‘Nice pictures. Can I see?’

She sat down next to me. I flipped through the photos.

My phone vibrated. A message from ‘Erica,Tribeca Nation singer’.

'
Checking out the Jazz and Music Fest?
' the message flashed as a notification and disappeared.The phone screen went back to displaying

pictures again, ‘Next?’ Priya said as I didn’t touch my phone for a

minute, ‘Priya, just a second. I need to send a reply,’

“Oh, sure, I will get a drink, Not for you, though,’ she smiled,

wagging a finger at me, I smiled back, I composed a message for

Erica:
I leave Monday. Almost packed. At my farewell party now.

Thanks anyway. :)
She replied:
Fly safe. Ciao. :)
I looked up. I saw Priya engrossed in conversation with someone at the bar.

I shut my phone and placed it in my jacket pocket. I then realized

that I was still carrying the brochures Daisy, the old lady, had given me outside Madison Square Garden. I read them one by one.

‘CATS—the longest running Broadway musical,’ said the first.

‘Blue Man Comedy Show—combining music, technology and

comedy,’ said another.

One of the brochures was a sixteen-page thick, A5-sized booklet. It

said ‘New York Music and Jazz Festival Weekend'.

The room lights had been dimmed, making it difficult for me to

read the text. I shifted iny seat closer to a candle on the coffee table.

‘123 performers. 25 venues. 3 days. 1 city,’ it said on the booklet cover.

The booklet opened with a two-page spread of the schedule of

performances. It was arranged in three tables, one each for Friday,