Half Girlfriend Read online

  half girlfriend

  Chetan Bhagat is the author of six blockbuster books. These include five novels—Five Point Someone (2004), One Night @ the Call Center (2005), The 3 Mistakes of My Life (2008), 2 States (2009), Revolution 2020 (2011)—and the non-fiction title What Young India Wants (2012).

  Chetan’s books have remained bestsellers since their release. Several of his novels have been adapted into successful Bollywood films.

  The New York Times called him ‘the biggest selling English language novelist in India’s history’. TIME magazine named him amongst the ‘100 most influential people in the world’ and Fast Company, USA, listed him as one of the world’s ‘100 most creative people in business’.

  Chetan writes columns for leading English and Hindi newspapers, focusing on youth and national development issues. He is also a motivational speaker and a screenplay writer.

  Chetan quit his international investment banking career in 2009 to devote his entire time to writing and making change happen in the country. He lives in Mumbai with his wife, Anusha, an ex-classmate from IIM-A, and his twin sons, Shyam and Ishaan.

  Praise for the author

  Many writers are successful at expressing what’s in their hearts or articulating a particular point of view. Chetan Bhagat’s books do both and more.

  – A.R. Rahman, in TIME magazine, on Chetan’s inclusion in the TIME 100 most influential people in the world

  The voice of India’s rising entrepreneurial class.

  – Fast Company Magazine, on Chetan’s inclusion in the 100 most creative people in business globally

  India’s paperback king.

  – The Guardian

  The biggest-selling English-language novelist in India’s history.

  – The New York Times

  A rockstar of Indian publishing.

  – The Times of India

  Bhagat has touched a nerve with young Indian readers and acquired almost cult status.

  – International Herald Tribune

  Text copyright © 2015 Chetan Bhagat

  Originally published by Rupa Publication

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Amazon Publishing, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Amazon Publishing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  eISBN: 9781503987401

  Cover Designer: Rachita Rakyan

  For my mother

  For rural India

  For the non-English types

  Contents

  Acknowledgements and some thoughts

  Prologue

  ACT I Delhi

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  ACT II Bihar

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  ACT III New York

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements and some thoughts

  Thank you, dear reader and friend, for picking up Half Girlfriend. Whatever I have achieved today in life is thanks to you. Here’s thanking all those who helped me with this book:

  Shinie Antony, my editor and first reader since Five Point Someone. Her feedback is invaluable.

  Those who helped me at various stages of conceptualizing, research and editing—Anubha Bang, Abhishek Kapoor, Anusha Bhagat, Masaba Gupta, Ayesha Raval, Abha Bakaya and Anusha Venkatachalam.

  My team—Bhakti, Michelle, Tanya and Virali.

  My immediate family—Anusha, Shyam, Ishaan. My mother, Rekha. My brother and his wife, Ketan and Pia. My in-laws, Suri, Kalpana, Anand and Poonam.

  Friends who make life worthwhile.

  My extended family on Twitter and Facebook.

  The entire team at Rupa Publications India.

  All those I met in Bihar while writing this book.

  And, finally, Bill Gates—and not just for Microsoft Word this time.

  I want to share something with you. With this book, I complete ten years as a writer. When I started writing, my motives were different. I wanted to make it. I wanted to prove a point. Today, I write for different reasons. I write for change. A change in the mindset of Indian society. It is a lofty goal, and I am not foolish enough to think I can ever achieve it. However, it helps to have positive intentions and a direction in life, and I am glad to have found mine.

  I want to reach as many people as I can—through books, films or other mediums of entertainment. I am human; I will falter and I will have ups and downs. If possible, try to maintain your support and keep me grounded through that process.

  One more thing: don’t give me your admiration. Give me your love. Admiration passes, love endures. Also, admiration comes with expectations. Love accepts some flaws.

  In fact, people sometimes ask me how I would like to be remembered. While hopefully that is a while away, all I tell them is this: I don’t want to be remembered, I just want to be missed.

  Welcome to Half Girlfriend.

  Prologue

  ‘They are your journals, you read them,’ I said to him.

  He shook his head.

  ‘Listen, I don’t have the time or patience for this,’ I said, getting irritated. Being a writer on a book tour doesn’t allow for much sleep—I had not slept more than four hours a night for a week. I checked my watch. ‘It’s midnight. I gave you my view. It’s time for me to sleep now.’

  ‘I want you to read them,’ he said.

  We were in my room at the Chanakya Hotel, Patna. This morning, he had tried to stop me on my way out. Then he had waited for me all day; I had returned late at night to find him sitting in the hotel lobby.

  ‘Just give me five minutes, sir,’ he had said, following me into the lift. And now here we were in my room as he pulled out three tattered notebooks from his backpack.

  The spines of the notebooks came apart as he plonked them on the table. The yellowing pages fanned out between us. The pages had handwritten text, mostly illegible as the ink had smudged. Many pages had holes, rats having snacked on them.

  An aspiring writer, I thought.

  ‘If this is a manuscript, please submit it to a publisher. However, do not send it in this state,’ I said.

  ‘I am not a writer. This is not a book.’

  ‘It’s not?’ I said, lightly touching a crumbling page. I looked up at him. Even seated, he was tall. Over six feet in height, he had a sunburnt, outdoor ruggedness about him. Black hair, black eyes and a particularly intense gaze. He wore a shirt two sizes too big for his lean frame. He had large hands. He reassembled the notebooks, gentle with his fingers, almost caressing the pages.

  ‘What are these?’ I said.

  ‘I had a friend. These are her journals,’ he said.

  ‘Her journals. Ah. A girlfriend?’

  ‘Half-girlfriend.’

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