The hands-on-hips pose meant no further questions. In the three
months I had known her, I knew she hated being pushed. I thought
maybe that was how rich people were-—somewhat private. We
overdid the familiarity in our villages anyway.
Now, as Shah Rukh Khan continued his song, I wondered what I
meant to her. We met in college every day, and ended up having tea at
least three times a week. I did most of the talking. I wou!d f tell her
stories from the residences, or ‘rez’, as the students called them—the
fancy word for hostels in Stephen’s. I was in Rudra-North, and told
her tales of messy rooms, late-night carrom matches and the respect
we needed to show seniors. She listened intently, even smiled
sometimes. When I asked herabout her home, she didn't say much.
Back in Dumraon it is unthinkable for friends to not share every detail
about themselves. High-class people have this concept called space,
which means you cannot ask them questions or give them opinions
about certain aspects of their life.
Am I special to her? I kept asking myself. Sometimes I saw her
chatting with other guys and felt insanely jealous. My insistence on
seeing a movie together was to find out what Riya Somani really
thought of Madhav Jha. I had held her hand to figure out where I
stood. Given her reaction, nowhere.
In fact, she removed her arm from the armrest for the rest of the
movie. She seemed upset, even though she never said a word. She
kept watching the film.
*
‘Is everything okay?’ I said. She sipped her drink in silence. We
had walked from Odeon to Keventers, famous for its milkshakes sold
in glass bottles.
‘Uh huh,’ she said, indicating a yes. I hated this response of hers.
We had finished two-thirds of our milkshakes without talking to
each other. She looked straight ahead, lost in thought. I felt she would
cry if poked.
‘I’m sorry.’