Half Girlfriend (24 page)

People were beginning to look a little puzzled. Was it a mic

problem? they wondered,

I saw Riya in her pink saree in a corner of the front row, her eyes

on me. Slowly, she stood up. I felt anxious. What would the crowd

think? However, she simply changed her place to come sit right in

front of me, I lip-read her.

‘One line at a time, go slow,’ she mouthed. Her presence kick-

started something within me. I blurted out:

‘Distinguished guests of the Bill Gates Foundation, respected

dignitaries, my dear students and parents, welcome to the Dumraon

Royal School,’

The crowd cheered. Most did not understand English, but the

mention of Dumraon was enough to set them off. The Foundation

delegates looked at me with attention.

Okay, I can do this
, I told myself,
Just like at the rehearsals with
Riya. Just imagine only she is here.

I gazed at Riya. She gave me a nod and smiled. Encouraged, I

continued:

‘Mr Bill Gates is here with us today. He is the richest man in the

world. I am sure he is sick of being told that all the time.’

From a distance, I noticed Bill Gates smile. He is listening to me, I

thought.

‘Sir, you know that rich in terms of money is not enough to have

the richest life. That is why you are here. In my Bihar, which, even

though we love it, is one of the most backward places on the planet.’

Riya was nodding after every line.

‘And in this backward Bihar is this extraordinary school. This

school with seven hundred kids, three teachers, negligible fees, no

proper classrooms, no toilets, no real government support and yet, a

lot of riches.’

Riya gave me two thumbs-ups.
Okay, no mistakes so far.

‘The real riches here are the kids. I am supposed to teach them.

However, they have taught me so much. We grown-ups complain

about what is lacking in this school, But these kids, they never

complain. Come to our school at any time and you will hear only one

thing from them—laughter.’

The front row, the people who understood me, broke into

applause.The subsequent rows followed a minute later, if only to show

that they understood as well.

‘If you ask these kids, they will say this is the best school in the

world, They love their friends. They love whatever they get to learn

here. However, I know this school can give them more. I know kids

deserving more only.’

Riya frowned.
Damn, I’ve made a mistake. It should be 'I know

the kids deserve more’.

I was panic-stricken. Riya gestured for me to breathe. I inhaled

deeply and exhaled slowly. Composed, I continued, ‘I know the kids

deserve more. Because I have seen the value a good education can

add. It is not just to get you a job. It is not just about knowledge and

the new things you learn either. A good education gives you self-

confidence.’

I paused to consult my notes. I looked up and spoke again.

‘Today, I speak to you in English. I didn’t know this language well.

I was scared and ashamed. People made fun of me. I spent my whole

college life with a complex. I don’t want that to happen to these kids. I don’t want anyone to tell them they are not good enough.’

People clapped. I don’t know if they understood me, or if they had

just connected with the emotion in my voice.

‘For that I need resources. I need good teachers. However, good

teachers won’t come to a school without basic facilities. Students can’t

be taught without proper classrooms. You can’t have a real school

without toilets.’

Riya’s eyes stayed on me. They kept me going.

‘I don’t want to beg from our government. I don’t want to beg

from anyone, actually. Money is not my thing. I left a job at a

multinational bank to be here. But sadly, you need some money to do

even good things in life.’

Riya signalled for me to sign off; the speech ended around here.

However, I continued to speak, unrehearsed and impromptu.

‘Mr Gates, people must tell you that you are a lucky man to have so

much money. It might irritate you also, since what you have achieved

is not just because of luck. It is because of your creativity, vision and hard work. You deserve it. However, let me tell you one place where

luck helped you.’

Riya looked at me, shocked. When had I come up with all this, she

seemed to be wondering.

I continued, ‘Where you are truly lucky is that you were born in

America. To be born in a country where everyone gets a chance. One

of my kids may have it in him to open a global company like yours,

but he won’t get a chance. Mr Gates, you were lucky to get that

chance. Today, we don’t run the school in the hope of aid or

recognition. All we are trying to do here is ensure that every kid in our school gets that chance. Thank you.’

Thunderous applause. Some in the crowd, including Riya and Mr

Gates, stood up. Soon, the rest of the crowd followed. I received a

standing ovation. I couldn’t believe I had delivered the speech I had

obsessed over for months. I couldn’t believe I had conquered one of

my biggest demons—English. I folded my hands and left the stage.

I walked back to my seat. My mother turned to me.

‘You learnt so much English?’ she whispered.

‘She taught me.’ I pointed to Riya.

My mother and Riya smiled politely at each other.

Students took over the stage again. They did a dance-drama about

Lord Krishna, the naughty boy who stole butter. The shortest student

in class II, a little girl called Karuna, played Krishna. She wore a

headband with a peacock feather stuck in it. After it was over, my

mother went up on stage and thanked the participating students.

Samantha from the Gates Foundation came up to me.

‘Bill needs to leave. Otherwise we will be late,’ she whispered in

my ear, her voice rushed.

‘Won’t he give a speech?’ I said.

‘He never does.’

My heart sank. I wanted to ask her how the speech went but

Samantha seemed too stressed out to notice or care.

‘I would like to call Mr Bill Gates on the stage to say a few words,’

my mother said. Mr Gates smiled and folded his hands, however,

asking to be excused.

I ran back up on stage. My mother seemed surprised. I took the

mic from her.‘Mr Gates needs to leave. If it’s okay, I would like to call Inin on stage to accept a small gift from us,’ I said.

Mr Gates obliged. He came on stage, along with two members of

his Foundation. A class V girl arrived with the gift. It was a small

hand-painted clay pot. Several students had drawn flowers on it. In the

potwas a flowering plant.

‘It’s beautiful,' Mr Gates said as he accepted the gift.

I smiled at him.

‘Nice speech,’ he said.

‘Thank you, sir,’ I said. I shook hands with the other two delegates

tin stage. One was Phil and the other was Roger, a young assistant to

Mr Gates.

‘Phil, do you want to?’ Mr Gates said.

‘Yeah, sure,’ Phil said.

Want to what?
I wondered.

32

'May I have the mic?’ Phil said.

I passed the mic to him.

‘Namaste,’ Phil addressed the audience. That one word in Hindi

made the audience swoon in ecstasy. This is how we Indians are. If

white guys speak even a tiny bit of Hindi, we love them.

‘Kaise hain?’ Phil said. The crowd roared in excitement.

‘We loved the show. Congratulations to all students, mubarak,’ he

said. Applause rent the air.

‘We found the students here extremely talented. We feel they

deserve to have more opportunities to learn. We have decided to give

the school a dozen computers, with all our software preloaded.’

The crowd clapped. I did too, wondering what we would do with

computers without electricity. Maybe they will come with computer

tables, I thought. We could use the tables. Phil continued, ‘Of course,

computers alone will not be enough in a school that needs

infrastructure. Thus, the Gates Foundation would like to give the

school a one-time grant of fifty thousand dollars and, subject to

inspection, a grant of ten thousand dollars a year for the next five

years.’

My head felt light. I saw the activity around me in a haze. Riya

jumped. Really, she stood up and jumped. Everything else was a blur.

The media sprang into action. Reporters barged ahead of the front row

to take pictures. My mother couldn’t contain her excitement. She came

on the podium and translated the announcement in Hindi, and

converted the amounts to rupees.

‘Twenty lakh rupees now, and four lakhs a year for the next five

years. We will now make this one of the best schools in Bihar,’ my

mother said. The crowd stood up and continued to clap. MLA Ojha

inserted his face in front of as many cameras as possible.

My mother gave me a hug. Samantha came up to me and

whispered in my ear, ‘Congratulations, Madhav, you did it. We will

talk later, okay? I need to rush. I’ll call you.’

‘Yes, thank you, Samantha.Thank you so much.’

'Here's my card,’ Phil said as he slipped one in my hand. ‘Your

work has impressed us. I know St. Stephen’s. To give up a career and

come here is admirable.’

I wanted Riya to hear this too. I looked for her but she was

nowhere in sight.

Crowds of villagers filled the stage. Security personnel escorted the

Gates Foundation delegation out of the venue to their cars.

‘Thank you, Rajkumar sahib,’ a villager tried to touch my feet.

‘You are our hero,’ said another.

I wanted to bring Riya on stage. But the crowd wouldn’t let me get

past them. The crowd lifted me. I was thankful; at least it would be

easier to spot Riya from someone’s shoulder.

‘Rajkumar Madhav,’ said one.

‘Zindabad!’ the others shouted in response.

I saw her empty seat.
Where did she go?
I wondered. The crowd

bobbed me up and down.

I looked around frantically. There was no sign of her. The media

wanted quotes. I remember saying this was a fantastic outcome that

would change the future of thousands of students of Dumraon.

‘Are you happy?’ one reporter asked me.

‘Uh? Yes,’ I said. I was happy. I mean, I should be happy, I told

myself.
Where the hell was Riya?

My mother came to me. The media turned to her.

‘Ma, have you seen Riya?’ I said.

‘Who?’

‘My friend. She was sitting in the front row. Where did she go?’

My mother shook her head. She turned to the reporters.

I extracted myself from the crowd on stage. MLA Ojha came up to

me.

‘Congratulations, Rajkumar ji. Lot of money, eh?’

‘Thanks, Ojha ji.Thank you for the opportunity.’

‘It’s okay. Now are we sharing it or what?’ he said.

I looked at him and his slimy eyes. He saw my shocked expression.

He burst into laughter. ‘Joking, Rajkumar ji. Always so serious. Of

course, it is all for the school.’

I smiled and excused myself. The crowd thinned in about twenty

minutes. Most of the parents and students had left. I asked the school

staff if they had seen Riya.

‘She was in the front row. We saw her stand up when the white

man announced the money,’ Tarachandji said.

I went to the makeshift parking area. No cars.The delegation had

left long back. I couldn’t find Riya’s car either.

I called Riya. Nobody picked up. I tried again, thrice. No response.

I called Riya’s driver.

‘I am on leave. Madam must have taken another driver,’ he said. I

hung up.

I wondered what to do next.
Where could she have gone? Did she

get an urgent call from home? Office? Where could she be?

“Madhav sir,’ a girl’s voice interrupted my chain of thought.

It was Shabnam, my student from class III. She wore a dhoti and a

kurta, having played a villager in the Krishna skit. Her parents stood

behind her.

I folded my hands to wish them. They thanked me for a great

function.

‘Madhav sir, didi left something for you.’ Shabnam handed me a

brown envelope. ‘Riya didi said to give this to you after the function.

She left while you were on stage.’

‘Did she tell you where she was going?’

Shabnam shook her head.

‘Did she go in a car?’

Shabnam nodded and left with her parents. I tore open the

envelope.

‘Where are you?’ my mother shouted from a distance.

‘Here only,’ I said. I slipped the envelope into my pocket.

‘Many people are coming home for lunch to celebrate. Come, let’s

go.’

33

Our VIP guests had come to the haveli for lunch.

‘What a son you have,’ Kanta aunty, one of my mother’s childhood

friends, said.

‘He deserves to be king. He is our asli rajkumar,’ said Bela chachi,

a third cousin of my mother.

I thanked my aunts for their compliments.

‘Ma, I need to go upstairs to my room.’

‘Why? What about your lunch?’

‘I’m tired. I’ll have it later.’

I ran upstairs and shut the door to my room. I took out the

envelope again. Inside was a computer printout of a letter.

Dear Madhav,

I want you to remain calm when you read this. And, if possible, be