Half Girlfriend (8 page)

‘This is Yamini. We were best friends in Modern School,’ Riya

said, hugging Yamini.

‘We
were
. I hear
you
are the best friend now, my competition,’ said Yamini, blowing a curly fringe out of her eyes.

‘Shoo, Yamini,’ Riya said and turned to me. ‘She’s teasing you.

Both of you are my buddies.’

I hated that word—buddies. Buddies felt like a pair of stuffed toys

placed next to each other, with no romantic spark whatsoever. I had

thought after our first kiss that Riya would be more open about us.

I handed over a present to Riya.

‘Oh, thank you,’ she said.‘But my birthday isn’t until next month.’

She opened the present without asking me.

‘What is it?’ she said as she fingered the fabric inside, trying to

make sense of it.

‘It’s a shawl,’ I said. I didn’t have much money to afford a big gift.

With winter coining, I thought this would be a nice present. Besides, it

was within my budget of five hundred bucks.

‘So thoughtful. This will keep me warm.’ Riya said with a big

smile on her face.

'I hear you play good basketball. Can you beat her?’Yammi said.

‘I try,' I said.

‘He’s being modest. He plays state level. Going to be college

captain soon.’

‘Handsome college captain,’ Yamini chuckled.

A waiter brought over a tray of snacks.

‘What’s that?' I said.

‘Sushi,’ the waiter said.

I had never heard that word before. I looked puzzled,

'It’s fish on rice.’ Yamini said.

I extended my hand to pick up a piece.

‘Raw fish,’ Riya said.

‘What?’ I said and recoiled from the tray.

The girls burst into laughter,

‘It’s okay, Japanese food. Even I don’t eat it,’ Riva said.

‘Your family is vegetarian, right?’ I said.

‘Yes, but our guests are not. It’s for them. Come, let me introduce

you to some people.’ Riya grabbed my arm.

‘Hey, Riya, one second,’ Ayesha called from behind.

Riya excused herself and went back. I saw the five girls chat with

each other in an animated manner. At one point, everyone apart from

Riya laughed; she didn't seem to find the joke as funny as the others.

'Sorry,’ Riya said as she rejoined me.‘Are you having a good time?’

‘Fancy house you have,’ I said as we walked to the other end of the

garden.

‘My dad’s and uncles’ house, you mean.’

‘Still, great place.’

‘Thanks,’she said.‘Are you having a good time?’

'I'm with you.That’s how I define a good time.’

She smacked my back with her hand and smiled.

‘So, who am I meeting?’ I said.

‘Dad, Mom and some of their friends.’

‘Dad and Mom?’ I said.

Every guy has a fear of meeting his girl’s parents. Apparently, there

is a scientific term for it—soceraphobia.

We reached the bar. A distinguished-looking couple in their early

fifties stood with guests.

Riya’s parents held a glass of champagne each. They looked like

those people in the Titan watch ads. They wore well-ironed clothes

with immaculate accessories. Everything they had on was designer,

including their smiles. Riya’s father wore a black bandhgala and gold-

rimmed glasses. Riya's mother wore a gold coloured silk saree.

‘Riya, there you are,’ Mr Somani said. He put his arm around his

daughter. ‘Rohan’s been asking for you.’

Riya extracted herself from her father’s embrace and moved aside

one step.

‘Hi, Rohan,’ she said. ‘When did you arrive?’

Rohan was a handsome man in his mid-twenties with gelled hair.

He wore a black formal suit.

‘Two minutes ago.The parlour took so bloody long to finish my

facial,’ Rohan said with a heavy British accent.

Rohan Chandak, I learnt, had come from London three days ago.

He and his mother were staying at Riya’s house for the duration of

their one-week trip. The Chandaks and the Somanis both hailed from

Jaipur, family friends for three generations. The Chandaks had a

hospitality business in London. I presumed, like the Somanis, they

were rich.

‘Never mind, young man,’ Riya’s father said and patted Rohan’s

back. ‘We are so proud of you, beta.'

Mr Somani recited the story of Rohan’s father who had died two

years ago. Rohan had taken over the hotel business at a young age and

was doing extremely well. Riya and Rohan seemed to have heard the

story too many times before and looked embarrassed. Mr Somani went

on for three minutes. I checked it against my watch.

‘It’s okay, uncle,’ Rohan said.‘I just do it to make my mum happy

and proud.That’s all.’

Riya’s mother stood next to her husband throughout. Like me, she

had not said a word.

‘So, at just twenty-four, running six hotels in London with four

hundred rooms, and planning the seventh. So proud of you, son.’ Mr

Somani repeated, finally ending his tribute.

I put on an expression of extreme awe and appreciation, as seemed

to be expected of me.

‘Not that my daughter Riya is any less. Let me tell you...’ Mr

Somani said. Riya interrupted him.

‘Dad. Stop,’ she said, somewhat rude and abrupt, considering she

was speaking to her father. Mr Somani smiled and let Riya speak.

‘Dad, I want you to meet Madhav, a good triend of mine from college,’

Riya said.

Mr Somani looked at me. He paused for a second before saying

hello. I had worn Shailesh’s best blazer and shirt, but it still didn’t

match the clothes of the other guests. Mr Somani, with his impeccable

taste, had noticed my less-than-designer outfit.

‘Hello, Madhav,’ Mr Somani said. He shook my hand in an

extrafriendly way, as if to compensate for the doubts of a few seconds

ago.

‘Good to meet you, sir,’ I said, my insecurities forcing me to say

‘sir’.

‘Madhav what?’ he said. Indians have to know your last name to

place you, ‘Madhav Jha,' I said.

‘Jha,as in...’

‘Bihar. I am from Bihar,’ I said, familiar with the upcoming

question. Mr Somani didn't answer.

Riya broke the awkward silence.

‘And that's Mom,’ she said.

Riya’s mother smiled and folded her hands. I wished her with a

namaste too.

A waiter arrived with a tray of drinks. Rohan took a beer, Riya

picked up a glass of wine and Mr Somani helped himself to a whisky. I

didn’t know what to take so I waved a no.

‘Nice party, Somani uncle,’ Rohan said.

Mr Somani lifted his glass for a toast. Mrs Somani made an eye

movement to indicate that some important guests had just arrived—-

someone incredibly rich or powerful, or both. Mr and Mrs Somani

excused themselves and sidled off.

Riya smiled at me. I smiled back at her, trying my best to fit in.

‘So you guys do college together, innit?’ Rohan said. His British

accent made it hard for me to understand him.

‘Yes, different course. Same college.’ Riya said.

Rohan was an inch shorter than Riya and five inches shorter than

me. However, his age and confidence made us seem like kids

answering his questions.

‘Basketball, that is wicked,’ Rohan said.

‘Wicked? Why wicked?’ I said.

He laughed, as if he didn’t mean it in a bad way. Even Riya smiled.

'What?’

‘Nothing. It’s such a British English thing,’ Riya said.

I guess I didn’t understand British or English things.

‘How do you like India?' I said, crying to make conversation.

‘Grew up here, dude. I left ten years ago,' he said.

I wondered if ten years could completely change a person’s accent.

‘Stephen's, eh? Top college. You must be pretty damn smart,’

Rohan said to me.

‘I entered through the sports quota,’ I said,

Riya’s eyes shuttled between both of us. She watched our man-to-

man equation. He was six years older, insanely rich and far more

accomplished. He also had a fancy accent, gelled hair and lived in

London. I was nothing compared to him. Yet, there was something

jerk-like about Rohan Chandak. Or maybe it was just my imagination.

At least I'm taller, I told myself to feel better.

‘Riya, babe, you only got guy friends? Or you have some lovely

ladies to introduce me to?’

‘Plenty. Come to the poolside.’ Riya said.

‘Yeah. Don’t make me hang out here with the oldies.’

Riya and Rohan turned towards the pool.

‘Hey, Madhav,’ Riya said.

‘Yeah?’

‘Stop looking so lost.’

We rejoined Riya’s gang.

‘Ah, so this is where the loveliest ladies in Delhi hang out,’ Rohan

said.

Why couldn’t I think of clever lines like that?

Riya introduced Rohan to everyone. Rohan held each girl’s hand

for a second, lifted it and said ‘a pleasure to meet you’ or something

like that. It was too much, if you ask me. However, the giggly girls

liked it.

‘So you are the London hot-shot,’ Yamini said.

‘From London for sure, madam, but not a hot-shot,’ Rohan said.

Everyone laughed. I think when rich guys say something, girls find

it extra funny.

‘Wait a minute, guys,’ Rohan said as he took out his phone from

his pocket. ‘Yes, Mummy ji. Everything okay, right? When will you be

here? Everyone is asking for you... Okay, don’t be too late.The party

can’t start without you.’

I watched Rohan’s face as he stepped aside to take his call. It

glowed, perhaps due to the facial he had mentioned, or maybe it was

just his mother’s voice.

‘You ladies like to party? Is there a nightclub for afterwards?’

Rohan said when he came back.

‘There’s Agni at the Park,’ Ayesha said, playing with her hair.

I wondered why on earth anyone would leave such a fancy party

and go anywhere else. However, rich people like to have options and

try different things.

‘You’ve known Riya a long time?’ Rachita asked Rohan.

‘Since she was a little girl,' Rohan said, ‘I used to be able to lift her easily.'

‘Hah. I was two, you were eight, Rohan.’ Riya said.

‘Yes. Let me try that now,'

Rohan put his glass down. He bent forward and took hold of

Riya’s waist. Riya was too startled to protest. A surge of anger ran

through my entire body. My fists and face tightened up in a primal

response.

Leave her alone, you bastard,
I said in my head.

Rohan lifted her off the ground. The girls giggled. He placed Riya

back down. It all lasted only two seconds. However, my insides

continued to burn long after it was over.

‘You are the quiet type, mate,’ Rohan said to me. ‘What’s up? Need

another drink?’

Yeah, I need to drink your blood.

Rohan beckoned to a waiter with drinks and passed me a beer

without me asking for it. I didn’t need a beer. I needed to whack this

NRI’s head like a slam-dunk shot. I needed alone time with Riya. I

needed another accent.

I chugged the beer down in one shot. I did it to assert my fast-

diminishing manliness in the group. Everyone watched me in surprise.

‘Mate, that’s rough. Go easy,’ Rohan said.

Riya understood I wasn’t being myseif. She looked at me as if to

hat the matter was. I turned the other way to avoid eye contact.

The girls gathered around Rohan. He told them stories about his

adventures at Indian airports.

'Madhav, can I talk to you for a second?’ Riya said.

We stepped away from the group.

*

We sat opposite each other on plush white sofas in Riya’s drawing

room. Two waiters hovered around us.

'Can’t we just...’ I said and fell quiet. A waiter brought us a tray of

spring rolls.

'Madhav, so many guests. How are we supposed to be more

private?’

'Yeah, fine, I understand,’ I said. I picked up two spring rolls.

‘Besides, I will see you in college on Monday, right?’ she said.

I nodded as I ate the spring rolls. A part of my frustration came

from hunger. I felt better after the snack.

‘I understand how you feel. In some ways, even I feel like a tourist

at these parties,’ Riya said.

‘What?’

‘It’s not real. All this. I’ve lived with this fakeness all my life,’ she said.

‘And why did you speak to your dad so rudely?’

‘Did I? Whatever. He’s another fake.’

‘C’mon Riya. Don’t talk like that.’

‘You hate it here, don’t you?’

‘No, I’m fine. What a grand house you live in. I still can’t get over

it,’ I said, in an attempt to change the topic.

‘I hope it doesn’t affect us. I’m still the same Riya who plays with

you on the dusty court,’ she laughed.

‘What is “us”, Riya?’

‘Us.You and me. Our friendship.’

‘Riya, we are more than friends.’

‘Are we?’ She looked at me as if genuinely confused.

‘I’ve never kissed anyone before,’ I said.

'Madhav.’

‘What?’

‘People can hear us.’

‘Nobody can hear us.’ The loud music in the garden ensured

nobody could hear anything.

‘We’ll talk about this later.’

‘You never do,’ I said

'I will, I promise. Please cheer up now.’

‘What’s with Mr London? What was he lifting you for?’

Riya laughed. ‘Oh, Ro. Ro is an old buddy. He’s mad.’

She even had a nickname for him, Ro. It means ‘cry’ in Hindi. I

wanted Ro to ro.

‘Are you jealous?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Yes, you are.’