Half Girlfriend (5 page)

cardiac arrest. My mother, Rani Sahiba Durga Jha, was the only

strong-willed person left in the family. She brought me up and

maintained the few farms left. She also tan the Dumraon Royal

School, which taught seven hundred kids from nearby villages, The

noise of air bubbles as Riya sucked up the last of her lemonade made

me realise I had spoken non-stop for ten minutes.

‘I'm boring you,’ I said, I vowed to stay quiet for a few minutes, It

had to be Silent Rlya's turn new, ‘Net at all,’

I smiled, ‘Now you speak, If you let me talk, I won’t stop,'

‘Okay, but wait, technically you're a prince, aren't you? Or are you

the king, Raja Sahib?'

I laughed, ‘There are no kings and princes anymore, Only

uneducated villagers talk like that,'

'But they do, right? Seriously, am I talking to a prince? Do they

address you as Prince?' She widened her eyes, Her award-winning

eyebrows moved up and down a little, ‘Sometimes they do, Listen, it's

not important, We're net rich or anything,*

‘You live in a palace?'

‘Haveli, It's like, well, a small palace, Anyway, I'm no prince, I'm a

Bihari boy trying to graduate, Do I look like a prince from any angle?’

‘C’mon, you are tall and handsome, You could be one, if you had

seme jewellery,' she said, She had said it in jest, but it was the first real compliment she had paid me. Little cupcakes of happiness exploded

inside me, ‘Did I, a commoner, just play basketball with the Raja Sahib

of Dumraon?' she said and burst into laughter, ‘I shouldn't have told

you,' I shook my head, 'C'mon,' she said and tapped my wrist, My arm

went all warm and tingty, ‘What about you? Which eighteen-year oId

girl comes to college in a BMW and calls herself a commoner?'

‘Oh, you noticed. That’s my dad's ear,*

‘You must be so rich:'

'My family is. Not me,'

As she spoke, three girls arrived at our table, “We’ve been looking

for you everywhere,' one of them said.

'Hey, girls’ Riya said. ‘Come, sit with us. Madhav. meet Garima,

Ayesha and Rachita, friends from my class, Girls, this is Madhav, my

basketball friend'

I realised my place in her life.
Basketball Friend
. Perhaps she had friends for specific purposes.

The girls looked me up and down, down and up, checking me out.

'Not, bad, Riya,' Garima said and winked at her. The girls burst out

laughing and sat down with us.

‘Are you In the college team?' Rachita asked me. She wore a red-

and-black bandana on her head.

I nodded, nervous at their bold familiarity.

'Madhav has played state level,' Riya said and looked at me

proudly.

'Wow,' the girls said in unison,

'Would you like to order anything?’ I said,

The three girls froze and then began to laugh. It dawned on me that

they were laughing at me. My English had sounded like this: 'Vood you

laik to aarder anything?' I didn't know this was such a cardinal sin.

‘What happened?' I said,

‘Not a thing,' Garima said and stood up,‘Thanks, Madhav, we just

ate lunch, Hey, Riya, let's catch up later, yeah?'

The three girls left. We waved goodbyes,

‘What happened, Riya?’ I said.

‘They're ditzy. Forget them,' she said

'Ditzy?'

'Silly and stupid, Anyway, I better leave too. My driver should be

here.'

We walked out of the eafeteria to the main gate. Her dark blue

BMW waited outside, ‘So I'm your basketball friend?' I said as we

reached the ear, ‘Well, that, and my lemonade-and-mince friend,'

'How about tea friend?'

‘Sure,’ She stepped inside the car and sat down. She rolled down

the window to say goodbye.

'Or a movie friend?'

'Hmm,'

‘What?’

‘Need to think about it.’

‘Think about what?’

‘Will the royal highness condemn me to death if I say no?’

I laughed. ‘I might.’

‘See you later, Prince,’ she said. The car drove off. '

I didn’t know if I was a real prince or not, but I had found my

princess.

4

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!dftell 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 something

is 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,

my
house, 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 Delhi

Police 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. '