Half Girlfriend (23 page)

last rehearsal. She stood before me and stomped her feet. She wore an

oversized purple T-shirt and Bermuda shorts.
Purple suits her
, I

thought; everything suits her.

‘You realize your speech is the day after tomorrow?’ she said.

‘You’re making me tense,’ I said.

‘Fine.’ She threw her hands up in frustration. ‘Tense is not good.

I’m calm. You’re calm,’ she said, trying to swing my mood.

'I'm screwing this up,’ I said. I sat down on her double-mattress

diwan.

I had come to her house on Sunday evening for a final rehearsal.

Gates was arriving on Tuesday. I had to leave for Dumraon tomorrow.

‘It’s looking staged. They will see that I’m no good at this,’ I said.

‘Relax, Madhav. I’m sorry I shouted.’

She sat next to me and held my hand. She coughed again.

It was my turn to shout. ‘Who is this stupid doctor who can’t treat

your cough?’

‘I don’t know. It’s an allergy. Something in the air. Can’t figure out

what’s making it flare up.’

‘What is the doctor in Delhi saying now?’

Riya had gone to Delhi last month, after her family asked her to

come meet her father one last time. He had passed away while she was

there. She had spent two weeks in Delhi, attending the funeral and

various last-rites ceremonies. During that trip, she had also met a

senior specialist for her cough.

‘Same. Find the allergen. You think I’m allergic to you?’ She

winked at me, indicating that she felt better. I smacked her with a red

cushion.

‘Everything okay at home, Riya?’

Riya had not reacted much to her father’s death. She had come

back from Delhi and hugged me as if she would never let go. She

mumbled something about forgiveness. I didn’t pry. She would only

tell me what she wanted to tell me and when she decided to.

‘Yeah. My brothers are taking care of the business and my mother

sounded normal the last time I spoke to her.’ Then she was all brisk

and business-like, clapping her hands to bring me back to the present.

‘And now we have Madhav Jha, trom Dumraoti Royal School.’

I stood in the centre of her living room.

‘Respected Mr Gates, Ms Myers, other members of the Gates

foundation delegation, MLA Ojha, eminent people from Dumraon,

students and staff of the Dumraon Royal School...’

‘You know what?’ Riya interrupted me.

‘What?’

‘Your greeting, it’s too long. Let’s cut it.’

‘Riya, you’re changing the script at this stage?’

‘Minor change.’

We fine-tuned the words in my notes. I began again. She didn’t

interrupt me. I spoke for ten minutes.

‘And that, my friends, is all I have to say.Thank you,’ I said.

Riya clapped.

‘How many mistakes?’ I said.

‘Five.’

‘Five?’

‘Yeah, but minor ones. They don’t really change the meaning of the

sentences.’

‘You are just saying it to make me less tense, right?’

Riya smiled. ‘Let’s eat dinner. No point over-rehearsing. We are all

set. Relax,’ she said.

‘Really?’

‘Yes. I made some daal, but chapatis will take time. Should I just

make some rice? Daal-chawal?’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I’ll help you.’

We went to her kitchen. She cooked dinner and I made a salad of

tomatoes and cucumber with salt, pepper and lemon juice. I set the

table while she cooked the food.

We sat down to eat, facing each other at the dining table.

‘When will you arrive in Dumraon?’ I said as I mixed the daal and

rice.

‘You won’t freak out if I’m there, no?’

‘Are you stupid? Just come with me tomorrow morning.’

‘No, no. I can’t. Too much work,’ she said.

‘So when?’ I said.

‘Tuesday morning with the Foundation people.You’ve told them

about me, right?’

‘Yes,’ I said. I had already given Riya Samantha’s number. Riya's

car would follow the Foundation’s contingent. They would all come

together.

‘The salad is nice,’ she said.

‘It’s nothing. So simple,’ I said.

‘Simple and nice. I like it. I like simple and nice, Madhav.’

Is that how she sees me too—simple and nice? Or am I too simple

and too nice?

*

Post dinner, we cleaned up the kitchen and washed the dishes. We

came back to the living room. Riya reclined on the diwan. ‘I’m so

tired.’

I checked the time. It was ten.

‘I better leave,’ I said.

Riya coughed again. I got her a glass of warm water.

‘After this speech, your treatment is our first priority. We need to

find that allergen or whatever,’ I said.

‘I’m fine. See, it’s gone now,’ she said.

She shut her eyes and patted the mattress, signalling for me to sit

next to her. She then put her head on my lap and turned on her side

towards me, her eyes closed, by all accounts fast asleep.

‘You want to sleep here?’

No answer.

I got a sheet and pillow from her bedroom. I placed the pillow

under her head and the sheet over her.

She smiled in gratitude, like a happy baby.

‘I’m going,’ I mouthed silently against her temple.

She shook her head.

What? I wondered to myself.
What does she want?

She held on to me when I tried to move.

‘I’ll stay?’ I said.

She didn’t react. This is what girls do. At crucial moments, they

won’t give you a straight answer. What’s a guy to do?

‘I’ll stay for a bit?’ I said.

She nodded.

Thank God for some guidance.

‘Okay, I’m tired too. If I stay, I need to lie down as well.’

She moved aside, eyes still shut, making space for me. I was

shocked. Riya actually wanted me to lie down with her.

I slid in next to her, as quietly as possible, lest she woke up fully

and came to her senses.

‘Sleeping?’ I said, giving her an awkward cuddle.

She nodded. Girl nonsense, again. I grinned. How could she

respond if she was asleep?

‘Me too,’ I said. I think it is acceptable, almost necessary, for men

and women to lie to one another.

She turned on her side and placed her arm around me. She also

curled up a little, so her chest would not come too close to mine. Only

her arms and knees touched me.

Girls are really good at such stuff. Even in sleep, they can contort

themselves to maintain the boundaries of appropriate physical contact,

I shut my eyes. Of course, I could not, just
could not
sleep. I wanted to hold her close. I wanted to kiss her. Restless, I placed an arm

around her. I think girls actually believe guys can casually place their

arms around them with no other idea in their heads.

I didn’t have courage to do anything else.
Maybe she is getting

comfortable with me
, my mind told me.
Why risk it? Chill, Madhav,
chill.

The same mind came up with a different theory a few seconds

later.
What if she wants you to do something? She’s created the

setting. Now if you don’t act, she will probably think you are a wimp.

Do something, Madhav. Don’t just chill.

The stress of two conflicting ideas in my head made me restless.

Riya’s smooth arm on me made things worse. I tossed and turned.

Meanwhile, she slept.

Two hours later, Riya opened her eyes. I had involuntarily poked

her shoulder, I had pins and needles everywhere from trying not to

move.

‘What is it?’ she said sleepily

‘You’re awake?’ I said, all sparkly voiced.

‘You woke rne up,’ she said.

‘Sorry,’ I said and patted her shoulder. ‘Go back to sleep.’

‘Are you tense?’

A shiver went down my spine. How did she know? God has given

too many senses to women.

‘A little bit.’

‘Don’t worry. You will perform fine.’

‘Huh? What?’ I said. What is she talking about? Then it struck me.

‘Oh, yes. I’ve done my best. The rest is up to Mr Gates.’

‘Exactly. Now sleep,’ she said and closed her eyes again.

‘Riya.’

‘Hmm?’

‘I want to say something, Riya,’

‘Shh,’ she said, eyes still shut. She placed a finger on my lips.

‘Say it to Bill Gates first,’ she said and drifted back to sleep.

*

‘Thirty minutes? Our programme lasts an hour,’ I said, my voice

indignant.

Samantha had called me on Monday morning, a day before Gates’s

visit.

‘I’m sorry, Madhav. It’s a really tight schedule for Mr Gates. Maybe

you can cut down on a few things.’

‘But the kids have been preparing for months.’

‘My apologies. Trust me, we have actually cancelled a few places.

But there’s no question of cancelling your school.’

‘Fine.What time?’

‘10.30 sharp. See you.’

I went with Tarachand jt to inspect the empty field being converted

into a parking lot. From a distance, I could hear the sound of students

practising the welcome song.

We had stopped classes for a week to focus on the annual day.

Students had planned the cultural programme, scrubbed the floors and

walls of the school, drawn new charts and made props for the stage. I

went to the staffroom and told my mother about the shortened length

of the visit.

She said, ‘It was a stupid idea to call these moody goras to school.

We’ve been going mad for the past few weeks for them, and now see.’

31

At 10.15 on Tuesday morning, my phone rang.

‘We are entering Dumraon. Ten more minutes,’ Samantha said.

I rushed to the school entrance. Twenty kids assigned to be the

welcome party formed two lines facing each other. Each held a plate

with rose petals to be showered on the guests. A girl from class V

would apply the tika.

Parents had already arrived. Over a thousand guests sat on red

plastic chairs under the tent set up for the occasion. Dignitaries and

special invitees sat in the front VIP rows.

The fleet of eight cars became visible. The kids in the welcome

team squealed in excitement. They started to throw flower petals at

each other.

‘Stop it,’ I said to them.

Mr Gates stepped out of his car. Media persons surrounded him,

taking pictures non-stop. A team of ten Americans, including

Samantha, and five Indians from the Foundation, stood behind Mr

Gates.

‘Hi,’ Riya’s voice startled me. I turned to face her. She wore a

baby-pink saree with little silver dots all over. She resembled the rose

petals on the kids’ plates.

‘Saree?’ I said.

She spread her arms. Just seeing her lean body, subtle curves and

the pink chiffon fabric draped around her, made me feel richer than

the richest man in the world who waited for me.

‘How do I look?’ she said.

‘Like Miss India,’ I said. She laughed.

‘Now attend to your guests. I’ll find a place inside.’

‘But Riya...’

‘Shh... Focus on them. All the best.’

She gave me a quick hug and hurried inside.

‘Mr Gates, this is Madhav, one of the founders of the school, from

the royal family,’ Samantha said. ‘Madhav, Mr Gates.’

I shook hands with the richest man in the world. They say Mr

Gates is so rich, he would not pick up a hundred dollars lying on the

road. He makes more money than that in the time it takes to pick up

the hundred-dollar bill. He shook hands with me for about five

seconds. I wondered how many thousands of dollars he could have

earned in that time.

‘Good to see you, Madhav,’ Mr Gates said. He spoke like an old

friend. Students threw petals on him. Samantha made urgent motions

that we start the function soon.

A mini-stampede occurred on stage. The welcome-song kids

bumped into the dance kids, both sets unprepared for the merger of

their programmes. The welcome song, a Saraswati Vandana, had not

even ended when Bollywood music took over.The mash-up sounded

odd but the audience clapped energetically.

I sat next to my mother on a sofa in the front row. My eyes hunted

for Riya;she sat ten seats away on my left. I gestured for her to come

sit next to me. She smiled and declined from a distance.

The dance ended with kids dancing to Salman Khan’s hit number

‘O, O Jaane Jaana’. My mother went up on stage and the music faded.

She spoke in Hindi.‘Thank you, children. Can we have a big round of

applause for the children, please?’

The crowd dapped hard.

‘Let’s also welcome Mr Gates and his team, who have come all the

way from America,’ she said. The crowd responded with loud cheers

and more applause. Mr Gates turned around in his seat and waved.

‘And now, I understand we have little time. So can I invite Prince

Madhav Jha to give the welcome speech?’

The crowd cheered. My heart started to beat fast. I stood up and

walked to the stage, passing Riya, who gave me a thumbs-up. I

sprinted up to the stage.

*

I scanned the crowd of over a thousand people from left to right,

right to left. The crowd had stopped clapping and were now waiting

for me to speak.

I took the mic in my hand. It slipped a little in my palm, which was

sweaty with nervousness.

Not a word came out of me. Nothing. I saw the sea of people. Even

though I had practised the speech a million times, I couldn’t say a

thing.