Half Girlfriend Read online

  A dozen girls wearing pink tights and silver-grey tops came on stage. Riya, the tallest amongst them and the easiest to spot, stood in the centre. Stage lights changed colours. A commentator spoke in a husky self-important voice. He spoke about evolution and how all life emanates from nature. It is stuff that sounds profound when you hear it but is total bullshit when you look back and think about it.

  Riya’s lean frame, athletic body and stunning looks meant most men had their eyes on her. Of course, another girl with a massive bust had her own set of fans.

  As the commentator spoke his lines in a sexy voice, I rehearsed mine in my head.

  ‘Riya, I think people deserve a second chance.’

  Riya did cartwheels on stage with incredible grace. The crowd burst into applause as she did a perfect cartwheel.

  Inside my chest, my heart did the same.

  ‘Riya, not a day—not a day—passes when I don’t think of you,’ I said to myself. I deleted it from my mental shortlist. It sounded too keen. Girls are difficult. It is all about finding the right balance. You can neither be too pushy, nor come across as too cool to care. I suck at this fine balance.

  In the last act, Riya took a handheld mic and sang the two closing lines about nature and how we need to protect it. Her clear and tuneful voice earned a round of spontaneous applause.

  The show ended. The girls came forward to take a bow. The crowd cheered. I slipped out and then sprinted to the classroom converted into a green room. Finger-combing my hair, I knocked on the door.

  A female student peeked out.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I need to talk to someone.’

  ‘Sorry, only girls allowed inside.’

  ‘Is Riya Somani there?’

  ‘She is changing. Wait.’

  I had little choice. I sat on a ledge opposite the classroom. I waited for thirty minutes. A group of girls came out, giggling for no particular reason. Riya didn’t.

  Forty-five minutes later, dressed in black jeans with silver buttons and a tight black top, Riya stepped out. In a deliberate act, she took brisk steps away from me.

  ‘Riya,’ I said.

  She stopped. However, she didn’t turn towards me. Her hands froze, as if uncomfortable.

  ‘Please,’ I said.

  She semi-turned towards me.

  ‘Hi, Madhav.’

  I stood squarely in front of her.

  ‘I want to talk. Five minutes,’ I said.

  ‘Anything important?’

  ‘To me it is. Five minutes?’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  We stood in a dark corridor, facing each other stiffly, as if in confrontation. It didn’t seem like the right place to talk. I saw her face. She was still the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Even though we were in the middle of what seemed like a world war, I wanted to kiss her. That is how sick the male mind is. It can forget the entire context of a situation and follow its own track.

  ‘I said I’m listening,’ she said. I flushed out the sick thoughts from my mind.

  ‘Not here. Somewhere private?’

  ‘Oh, really?’ she said.

  I realized it had come out all wrong.

  ‘Sorry, not like that. Somewhere we can sit, face to face. And it isn’t so dark.’

  ‘The café?’ she said.

  ‘Now? It’s packed with the DU crowd. You won’t get a table.’

  ‘Listen, I have plans. I have to go,’ she said.

  ‘Okay, the café then. Fine.’

  We walked to the café. As expected, lines to enter extended all the way outside.

  ‘It is crowded. Is it okay if we talk in my car?’ she said.

  I looked at her. She seemed to have calmed down a little.

  ‘Yeah. The driver will be there, right?’

  ‘I’ll send him away. Actually, let’s go to the car. I need to give you something, too.’

  13

  We walked out to her car. She handed her driver a fifty-rupee note.

  ‘Driver bhaiya, can you go and buy a few packets of Parle-G biscuits for me, please?’

  The driver looked puzzled.

  ‘Madam, we will buy it on the way?’

  ‘No, go now. Leave the keys. I’ll wait inside.’

  The confused driver handed the keys to Riya and left.

  Riya and I sat in the backseat of her BMW. A fat armrest separated us. She switched on the reading light and slipped her feet out of her shoes. Turning sideways, she leaned back against the window to face me. She tucked her feet under her legs on the seat.

  I sat stiffly. The BMW reminded me how out of place I was in her world.

  ‘So?’ Riya said.

  ‘You were really great on stage. And congrats on winning the English vocals.’

  ‘Oh, thank you. That’s nice of you, Madhav, to congratulate me.’

  ‘Amazing show,’ I said, clearing my throat.

  ‘Thanks. Is that all you wanted to say to me?’

  I shook my head. I hated it when she adopted this formal tone.

  ‘So let’s skip the small talk. Say what you want to.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Have heard it a million times from you.’

  ‘Forgive me.’

  ‘I have forgiven you. I have also moved on. It’s past. It’s over. So, that’s it?’

  I looked into her eyes. In the dim reading light of the BMW, I could not spot any emotion on her face. I felt weak in her presence. I fought back tears.

  ‘I want us to be friends again,’ I said.

  ‘Why?’ she said, her voice as cold as Delhi’s foggy winter night.

  Did she miss nothing about me or what we had?

  Because I miss you, damn it! I wanted to scream at the top of my voice. Of course, I couldn’t. I had lost the right to express any words, let alone any emotions, to her. I had to say something reasonable, underplaying what I felt.

  ‘So I have a chance to show you I am not a jerk,’ I said.

  ‘I am sure you are not. I take your word for it. You don’t have to show me.’

  Riya is too clever, too smart and sometimes too icy. She left me speechless. I had a sinking feeling something was not going right.

  However, she touched my hand on the armrest. Her soft fingers pressed into my wrist, as if checking my pulse.

  ‘Listen, Madhav,’ she said. ‘I am sorry I am being this way. Cold and aloof.’

  Her warm touch melted my resolve to keep my composure. I loved her touch but I wished she would remove her fingers. I didn’t know if I could hold back my tears anymore.

  ‘Please,’ I said. It sounded needy. I hated myself for saying it.

  ‘Madhav, I’m not angry with you anymore. It is anyway not possible for us to be friends again. I am leaving.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m leaving college.’

  ‘What? Like quitting?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I’m dropping out.’

  ‘You’re in the second year. You won’t finish your degree?’

  ‘Never cared much for formal education.’

  I looked at her, shocked.

  ‘Of course, I can say that because my dad’s rich. It’s okay if you think that I’m a quitter.’

  ‘No, I didn’t think that. All I’m thinking is, why?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘You’re dropping out of St. Stephen’s. There must be a reason.’

  Our eyes met. Maybe it was my imagination but, for a moment, I felt the same connection to her as I had in the past.

  ‘I don’t think you want to know.’

  ‘I do,’ I said. ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘You will judge me.’

  ‘Have I ever?’

  She kept quiet.

  ‘Riya, have I ever judged you? You judged me and threw me out of your life.’

  ‘Madhav, please.’

  ‘Let’s not go there. Yeah, fine. Anyway, are you still thinking about quitting or is it final?’