Half Girlfriend Read online

  ‘Oh, please get it to college tomorrow. It’s my favourite.’

  ‘You want to come pick it up? You wanted to see my room, right?’ I said.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Really? But how?’

  ‘There’s a system. It involves me making the guards happy while you rush inside.’

  ‘You’ll sneak me in?’ she said, her eyes opening wide.

  ‘You won’t be the first girl to come to the residences.’

  We walked towards the brick-lined path to Rudra-North. She stopped a few steps before I reached Rudra.

  ‘What if we get caught?’ she said.

  ‘I’ll be expelled, but they’ll spare you. You’re a girl and your father will have enough contacts.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Let’s do it,’ I said.

  I went up to the guard. I followed the code: told him to check out a problem in the bathroom, and slipped him fifty rupees. He had done it for others before so he quickly understood. He saw Riya in the distance.

  ‘Is she from outside or a student?’ the guard said.

  ‘What do you care?’ I said.

  ‘Just in case there’s any trouble later.’

  ‘Will there be trouble?’

  ‘No. Make sure she leaves in thirty minutes. No guarantee with the new guard.’

  6

  She entered my room and I slammed the door shut behind us.

  My room was furnished with the bare necessities—a bed, a desk, an easy chair and a study chair. The walls were lined with certificates and pictures.

  ‘So many certificates,’ she said as she scanned them. They began right from the inter-school tournaments I had won in class VIII to the one I had for participation in the national games. (My team from Bihar had come eighth.)

  ‘And are these photos of your friends?’

  ‘Those are friends from my old basketball team,’ I said, standing behind her. I stood close enough for her hair to touch me. We had never been alone together before.

  ‘How about family pictures?’ she said.

  I opened my study-table drawer. I took out a photograph of the Dumraon Royal School’s annual day. My mother stood on a stage along with students in red sweaters.

  ‘Your mom?’ she said, holding the picture.

  ‘She’s the principal.’

  ‘You have more pictures?’

  ‘Not really,’ I said and rifled through the drawers. I found another black-and-white photo, but hid it.

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Show, no.’

  ‘It’s a childhood picture.’

  ‘Oh, then I definitely want to see it.’

  She charged towards me.

  ‘No,’ I protested and tried to shut the drawer. She laughed, and tackled me like she did on the basketball court, treating the picture like the ball.

  On the court our occasional touches meant little. In the room, her jostling me felt electric. I wanted to grab her tight, but didn’t. I didn’t want a scene like last time.

  I let her have the picture and stepped aside. She looked at it and began to laugh.

  ‘How old are you in this?’

  ‘Four.’

  The picture was of my parents and me standing outside the haveli. My mother wore a saree with a ghoongat covering half her face. I wore a vest and little else.

  Riya sat down on the bed. She examined the photograph like a detective solving a murder mystery. I sat next to her.

  ‘Is that your haveli?’ she said.

  I nodded.

  ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘That’s fifteen years ago. Now it’s falling apart.’

  She looked closer. A cow was visible in the background. Two kids sat under a tree with an old man.

  ‘Who are they?’

  ‘Random people, perhaps some visitors. I told you, people come to us with their problems. For them, we are still the rulers.’

  ‘I’d love to go see it.’

  I laughed.

  ‘What?’ she said, puzzled.

  ‘You? In Bihar?’

  ‘Yeah, why not?’

  I shook my head and laughed again.

  ‘What’s so funny, prince?’ she said and tickled me.

  ‘Stop it, I’m ticklish,’ I said and laughed uncontrollably.

  ‘You think I can’t leave my sheltered life, huh?’ she said, poking my stomach with her fingers. I grabbed and held her. She realized it only after a few seconds.

  ‘Hey,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re holding me.’

  ‘Good observation.’

  I looked straight into her eyes. She did not look away. Even though I had zero experience with girls, I could tell this was a good sign.

  ‘What?’ she said.

  I leaned forward to kiss her. At the last moment she moved her face away and I ended up kissing her cheek.

  ‘Madhav Jha,’ she said. ‘Behave yourself.’

  She said it in a firm voice, though without the anger she had shown that day on the lawn.

  ‘I am behaving like myself. This is what I want to do.’

  ‘All you boys are the same,’ she said and slapped my wrist.

  ‘You’ve experienced all boys?’ I raised my eyebrows.

  ‘Shut up. Okay listen, before I forget, I have to invite you to a party.’

  ‘Don’t change the topic.’

  ‘Don’t stick to one either,’ she said and extracted herself from my grip. She shifted into the study chair.

  ‘Come here. Near me,’ I said.

  ‘No, sir, I don’t trust you.’

  ‘Really? Your best friend?’

  ‘Who is not behaving like a friend,’ she said, emphasizing the last word.

  I lay back on the bed in a sulk, dangling my legs. I picked up a basketball from the bookshelf and spun it on my little finger.

  ‘I said I want to invite you to a party. Are you paying attention?’ she said.

  ‘Why do you want attention from someone you don’t trust?’

  ‘Next Saturday, my house. At 100, Aurangzeb Road,’ she said, palms resting on her lap.

  I sat up on the bed.

  ‘Your house?’ I said.

  ‘Yes, the party is at my place.’

  ‘You’re making me meet the parents?’

  ‘Yeah, why? There are going to be loads of people there. It’s a party.’

  ‘Oh, what is the occasion?’ I said, back to spinning the ball on my pinkie.

  ‘My birthday party.’

  ‘Your birthday is next month. 1 November. See? I remember.’

  ‘Dad wants me to celebrate it next week. We have family friends in town.’

  I nodded and continued to look at the ball. With one swoop of her arm she took the ball away from me.

  ‘Hey,’ I protested.

  ‘Is that a yes?’

  ‘Do I have a choice?’

  She threw the ball at me. It missed my face and hit my neck.

  ‘You’re making it sound like a punishment. It’s a party invitation,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll come on one condition.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Come sit next to me.’

  I patted the bed. She rolled her eyes, stood up and came to sit down next to me.

  ‘Why don’t you let me hold you?’ I said and took her in my arms again.

  ‘Well, you are now.’

  ‘You don’t like it?’

  ‘Madhav. . .’ Her policewoman voice was back.

  ‘What is so wrong with it?’

  ‘I have issues with this stuff. I do.’

  ‘Issues? You know what? Forget it.’

  ‘See, you don’t want to listen. Anyway, I am not ready for it.’

  ‘Ready for what?’

  She shook her head. I brought my face close to hers. She looked at me.

  ‘There you go again. What is it? A compulsion, huh?’ she said. I kept quiet. Her light brown eyes conti