brisk steps away from me.
‘Riya,’ I said.
She stopped. However, she didn’t turn towards me. Her hands
fr
oze, 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 it 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
th
ough 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 front
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 cafe?’ 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 cafe then. Fine.’
We
walked to the cafe. 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.’
CHETAN BHAGAT - HALF GIRLFRIEND NOVEL
Re: CHETAN BHAGAT - HALF GIRLFRIEND NOVEL
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 side-ways, 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
En
glish 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,
th
at’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 l 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.
‘! 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 feeiing something was not going right.
Ho
wever, 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
an
d aloof.’
He
r 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
th
ink 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.’
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 side-ways, 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
En
glish 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,
th
at’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 l 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.
‘! 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 feeiing something was not going right.
Ho
wever, 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
an
d aloof.’
He
r 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
th
ink 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.’
Re: CHETAN BHAGAT - HALF GIRLFRIEND NOVEL
Our eyes met. Maybe it was my imagination but, for a moment, I felt
th
e 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?’
‘Pretty final.’
‘Why?’
She took a deep breath.
‘Open the glove box.’
‘What?’
She pointed to the storage box below the dashboard. Puzzled, I
reached over and opened it. It had three red cardboard boxes inside.
‘Take one,' she said.
I picked up a box and sat back on my seat. The velvet-lined red
box had golden leaves embossed on it.
‘Open it.’
I switched on the reading light on my side of the car. I lifted the
red-gold lid of the box.
Inside, I found a red envelope on top of a silk pouch.The card and
th
e pouch had ‘R and R’ on it.
‘What?’ I said.
She gestured with her eyes that I look further.
I held the envelope in one hand and the pouch in the other. The
pouch contained pieces of chocolate wrapped in silver paper. I put the
pouch aside and opened the card.
I read a couple of lines. My head swam.
‘What?’ I turned to Riya.
‘I told you, you don’t want to know.’
I composed myself and summoned the resolve to read the full
card. It went like this: Shri Vishnu Somani and Shrimati Kala Devi
Somani humbly invite you to the wedding of their granddaughter So.
Riya Somani
(d/o
Mr
Ma
hendra Somani and Mrs Jayanti Somani) with Chi. Rohan
Ch
andak
(s/o Late Shri Manoj Chandak and Jamna Bai Chandak) on 25
Ja
nuary 2007 at 8p.m.
at the Taj Palace Hotel, Delhi Programme and RSVP details
attached. Request no gifts.
I didn’t read the other cards in the box, which had details of the
other ceremonies. I simply sat there frozen. I clutched the silk pouch
like a stress ball and looked straight ahead.
‘It happened so fast,’ Riya said.
I remained quiet. Shock waves ran through me. Numb, I traced the
golden embroidery on the pouch.
‘A part of me can’t believe it is happening,’ she said, to fill the
aw
kward silence.
‘You’re getting married?’ I whispered, my tone unusually calm, my
gaze still averted.
‘In two months,’
I smirked and turned to her. ‘Wow, Riya. I’ve never faced such a
dodge, even on the basketball court.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I wanted us to be friends again. But you are leaving college.
Getting married.’
‘That’s life, I guess.’
‘You’re nineteen.’
‘Will turn twenty after the wedding, later the same year.’
‘Have you gone mad, Riya?’
‘You’ve lost the right to talk to me like that,’ she said.
th
e 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?’
‘Pretty final.’
‘Why?’
She took a deep breath.
‘Open the glove box.’
‘What?’
She pointed to the storage box below the dashboard. Puzzled, I
reached over and opened it. It had three red cardboard boxes inside.
‘Take one,' she said.
I picked up a box and sat back on my seat. The velvet-lined red
box had golden leaves embossed on it.
‘Open it.’
I switched on the reading light on my side of the car. I lifted the
red-gold lid of the box.
Inside, I found a red envelope on top of a silk pouch.The card and
th
e pouch had ‘R and R’ on it.
‘What?’ I said.
She gestured with her eyes that I look further.
I held the envelope in one hand and the pouch in the other. The
pouch contained pieces of chocolate wrapped in silver paper. I put the
pouch aside and opened the card.
I read a couple of lines. My head swam.
‘What?’ I turned to Riya.
‘I told you, you don’t want to know.’
I composed myself and summoned the resolve to read the full
card. It went like this: Shri Vishnu Somani and Shrimati Kala Devi
Somani humbly invite you to the wedding of their granddaughter So.
Riya Somani
(d/o
Mr
Ma
hendra Somani and Mrs Jayanti Somani) with Chi. Rohan
Ch
andak
(s/o Late Shri Manoj Chandak and Jamna Bai Chandak) on 25
Ja
nuary 2007 at 8p.m.
at the Taj Palace Hotel, Delhi Programme and RSVP details
attached. Request no gifts.
I didn’t read the other cards in the box, which had details of the
other ceremonies. I simply sat there frozen. I clutched the silk pouch
like a stress ball and looked straight ahead.
‘It happened so fast,’ Riya said.
I remained quiet. Shock waves ran through me. Numb, I traced the
golden embroidery on the pouch.
‘A part of me can’t believe it is happening,’ she said, to fill the
aw
kward silence.
‘You’re getting married?’ I whispered, my tone unusually calm, my
gaze still averted.
‘In two months,’
I smirked and turned to her. ‘Wow, Riya. I’ve never faced such a
dodge, even on the basketball court.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I wanted us to be friends again. But you are leaving college.
Getting married.’
‘That’s life, I guess.’
‘You’re nineteen.’
‘Will turn twenty after the wedding, later the same year.’
‘Have you gone mad, Riya?’
‘You’ve lost the right to talk to me like that,’ she said.