2 States: The Story of My Marriage Read online

  I hung up and paid twenty-five bucks.

  ‘Why did you hang up the first time? Your dad picked, right?’ Ananya asked as we walked back.

  I stopped in my tracks. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I guessed. I do it with mom when I’m angry with her. We don’t hang up; we just stay on the line and keep silent.’

  ‘And pay?’

  ‘Yes. Pretty expensive way to let each other know we are upset. Only sometimes though.’

  ‘I never speak to my father,’ I said.

  ‘Why?’ Ananya looked at me.

  ‘Long story. Not for tonight. Or any night. I’d like to keep it to myself.’

  ‘Sure,’ she said.

  We walked for a moment in silence before she spoke again. ‘So your parents have big expectations from you? Which job are you going to take? Finance? Marketing? IT?’

  ‘Neither of those,’ I said. ‘Though I will take up a job for the money first.’

  ‘So what do you want to be? Like really?’ She looked right into my eyes.

  I couldn’t lie. ‘I want to be a writer,’ I said.

  I expected her to flip out and laugh. But she didn’t. She nodded and continued to walk. ‘What kind of writer?’ she said.

  ‘Someone who tells stories that are fun but bring about change too. The pen’s mightier than the sword, one of the first proverbs we learnt, isn’t it?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Sounds ridiculous?’

  ‘No, not really,’ she said.

  ‘How about you? What do you want to be?’

  She laughed. ‘Well, I don’t know. My mother already feels I’m too ambitious and independent. So I am trying not to think too far. As of now, I just want to do OK in my quiz and make my mother happy. Both are incredibly difficult though,’ she said.

  We reached her room and practised numericals for the next two hours.

  ‘I am so glad you are here. I’d never be able to crack these,’ she said after I solved a tricky one for her.

  ‘You are not using me, are you?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Like you are friends with me because I am from IIT? So I can help you with the quant subjects.’

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ she looked shocked.

  ‘I don’t want to be the IIT brother,’ I said.

  ‘What? Whatever that is, you are not. We are friends, right?’

  She extended her hand. I looked into her eyes. No, those eyes couldn’t use anyone.

  ‘Good night,’ I said and shook her hand.

  ‘Hey Krish,’ she said as I turned to leave.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The stuff you said, about being a writer who brings about change. It is really cool. I mean it,’ she said.

  I smiled.

  ‘Good night,’ she said and shut her door. A few sleepless girls wandered in the dorm with their notes. They gave me suspicious looks.

  ‘I only came to study,’ I said and walked out of the dorm fast. I don’t know why I felt the need to give an explanation.

  4

  She came out of the research assistant’s room with her microeconomics quiz results. She walked past the queued up students towards me. By this time, everyone on campus knew of her friendship, or as some would say, siblingship, with me. She wore denim shorts and a pink T-shirt, drawing extra long glances from the boys from engineering colleges.

  ‘B-plus, people say it is a good grade,’ she said, holding up her answer sheet.

  ‘Your shorts are too short,’ I said.

  ‘Show me your grade,’ she said, snatching my paper. ‘A minus, wow, you cracked an A-minus!’

  I didn’t react. We walked back towards our dorms.

  ‘You cannot score more than me in economics, I don’t believe this,’ she said. ‘You are a mechanical engineer. I am a university gold medallist in the subject.’

  ‘Show the medal to Prof Chatterjee,’ I said in a serious tone.

  ‘Hey, you OK?’

  I kept quiet.

  ‘Anyway, I owe you a treat. Your numericals saved me. Are you hungry?’

  I nodded. People who live in hostels are always hungry.

  ‘Let’s go to Rambhai,’ she said.

  ‘You are not coming to Rambhai like this,’ I said.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like in these shorts,’ I said.

  ‘Excuse me. Is it a Delhi thing or a Punjabi thing? Controlling what women wear?’

  ‘It is a common sense thing. It is outside campus. People stare,’ I said.

  ‘Enough people stare within campus. I’m fine, let’s go,’ she said and walked towards the campus gates.

  ‘I don’t need a treat. It’s fine,’ I said, turning in the opposite direction towards my dorm.

  ‘Are you serious? You are not coming?’ she called from behind.

  I shook my head.

  ‘Up to you.’

  I ignored her and continued to walk.

  ‘Are you going to come for the study session tonight?’

  I shrugged to signify ‘whatever’.

  ‘Any dress code for me?’ she said.

  ‘You are not my girlfriend. Wear whatever. What do I care?’ I said.

  We didn’t talk about the afternoon episode when I came to her room in the evening. She had changed into black track pants and an oversized full-sleeve black T-shirt. She was covered up enough to go for a walk in Afghanistan. I kind of missed her shorts, but I had brought it upon myself. I opened the marketing case that we had to prepare for the next day.

  ‘Nirdosh – nicotine-free cigarettes,’ I read out the title.

  ‘Who the fuck wants that? I feel like a real smoke,’ she said. I gave her a dirty look.

  ‘What? Am I not allowed to use F words? Or is it that I expressed a desire to smoke?’

  ‘What are you trying to prove?’

  ‘Nothing. I want you to consider the possibility that women are intelligent human beings. And intelligent people don’t like to be told what to wear or do, especially when they are adults. Does that make sense to you?’

  ‘Don’t be over-smart,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t patronise me,’ she said.

  ‘There are other ways to attract attention than by wearing less clothes,’ I said.

  ‘I didn’t do it to attract attention. I wear shorts because I like to wear shorts.’

  ‘Can we study?’ I opened the case again.

  We kept quiet for half an hour and immersed ourselves in our books.

  ‘I wasn’t trying to attract attention,’ she said again, looking up from her books.

  ‘It doesn’t matter to me,’ I said.

  ‘Are you jealous?’

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ I slammed my book shut.

  ‘No, just checking. Let’s study,’ she said. She turned back to her books, a smile on her face.

  I threw the pillow at her. She laughed and slammed it on my head. I realised this was the first contact sport I had played with her apart from shaking hands.

  5

  We studied together every day for the next month. Even though I pretended to be fine with the ‘just friends’ thing, it was killing me. Every time I looked up from my books, I saw her face. Every time I saw her, I wanted to grab her face and kiss her. The only way I could focus was by imagining that Prof Chatterjee was in our room.

  Even outside the study sessions, it wasn’t easy. Every time I saw a guy talk to her or laugh with her, a hot flush started from my stomach and reached my face. Sometimes, she would tell me how funny some guy in section A was or how cute some guy in section B was and I wanted to go with a machine gun and shoot the respective guys in sections A and B.

  ‘What? They should go full on with the advertising campaign, right?’ she referred to the marketing case.

  I had been staring at her lips, researching ways of kissing her. ‘Huh? Yes, I agree with you,’ I said.

  ‘Your mind is elsewhere. What are you thinking of right now?’ she snapped her fingers.