9
'Even I have no fucking idea what sushi is,’ Ashu said.
‘It’s Japanese food. How the fuck are we supposed to know? Do
they know our litti-chokha?’ Raman said.
He dug his fork deep into the mound of biryani piled high on his
plate. We were in the dining hall for Sunday dinner and a post-mortem
of Riya’s party.
‘Sushi is no big deal. The bigger deal is she didn’t make you feel
special,’ Shailesh said.
He adjusted his spectacles and drank a glass of water. Shailesh,
always the straight talker, had silenced everyone with his statement.
The sound of cutlery filled the awkward silence.
‘Trouble, brother, trouble,’ Shailesh said, after a minute.
'But she kissed him,’Ashu said.
‘Toys. Told you about rich people and their toys,’ Shailesh said.
I ate my food. My friends further analysed the situation. In my
heart I knew Riya didn’t see me as a toy. We had a connection. But my
heart can be over-imaginative and stupid.
‘I’ll talk to her,’ I said.
‘What? Enough talking. Now do,’ Raman said.
‘Do what?’ I said.
Raman shook his head. Everyone smiled.
‘Listen, Madhav, I don’t want to break your heart. But you do
know such a girl is beyond you,’ Raman said.
‘What do you mean?’ I said, putting my fork down on the table.
‘Look at them. Look at you. You forgot your aukaat or what?’
Raman had spoken in a flat, controlled voice. However, it hurt. It
hurt like he had taken his blunt fork and jabbed it into my chest. It
hurt because he didn’t think I deserved Riya. It hurt because he had
spoken the truth.
‘Why does she hang out with me all the time?’ I said. ‘She can
have all the rich friends she wants. In fact, she does.’