Half Girlfriend (21 page)

what I wanted even before I thought of it.

I nodded. She had already picked a video with subtitles.

Steve Jobs had founded Apple Computers. He had competed with

Bill Gates of Microsoft, the man who I had to give a speech to. It was a

perfect situation in which to use a word I had learnt in English classes

—ironic.

Steve, a thin, balding white guy in graduation robes, stood on a

podium at Stanford University. I listened to the speech and read the

subtitles.

‘I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest

I’ve ever gotten to a college graduation. Today, I want to tell you

three stories from my life. That’s it. No big deal. Just three stories.’

I was immediately hooked. I didn’t know this guy but I liked him

in seconds.

He spoke about how he was born to an unwed mother who had

put him up for adoption. A CEO of a major global company speaking

so openly about his past stunned me. He talked about dropping out of

college to save his adoptive parents’ money, and then sleeping on dorm

floors and attending the classes he liked.

‘I returned Coke bottles for the five-cent deposits to buy food with,
and I would walk the seven miles across town every Sunday night to

get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it.’

He had said nothing about his achievements yet. Still, you felt his

greatness.

‘And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and

intuition.’

‘Intuition?’ I said.

‘Gut instinct, what you feel from the heart,’ Riya said.

Did I have the courage to follow my heart?
Did I have the

courage to propose to Riya again?

Finally, Steve ended his speech.

‘Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for

myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.’

The crowd in the video applauded. I joined in.The cyber cafe’s

owner turned to watch the whacko customer who clapped after

YouTube videos.

‘Can I see it again?’ I said.

‘Sure. I will check my mail on another computer.’

I watched the speech three more times. I repeated some of the lines

as practice. I stood up after an hour.

I saw Riya in the adjacent cubicle, her mail open on the screen. She

looked grave.

‘Should we go have lunch?’ I said. I guess staying hungry isn’t so

easy after all.

I glanced at her monitor. I just about managed to read the subject

line:‘Dad’.

She pressed ‘send’. The screen disappeared. She logged out and

stood up.

We walked back to the haveli in silence.

27

Savitri tai served us daal and subzi with chapatis.

‘Litti-chokha is for dinner, when Ma arrives,’ I said.

'Sounds great,’ Riya said with no noticeable enthusiasm.

‘Everything okay?’ I said.

‘Dad’s been unwell for a while.’

I did count
. This was the first time she had shared something

substantial with me.

‘What happened?’

‘He’s a heart patient. The last by-pass didn't go well. It’s not

looking good.’

‘Will you need to go to Delhi?’

‘Probably. I don’t know. They hide things from me,’ she said. I

guess hiding things from one another is a Somani family tradition.

She was looking down at her food, her spoon circling the daal.

Perhaps it was Jobs’s speech that gave me the courage to stand up and

move to her side. I put my arm around her shoulders.

She stood up and hugged me back, though not too tightly.

‘I’m sure he’ll be fine.The best doctors in Delhi must be looking

after him,’ I said.

She nodded and sat back down.

‘Sorry.’ she said. ‘I’m such a bother.’

‘It’s not a bother, Riya. It’s okay to be down now and then. And to

talk about, it.’

‘No, it’s not,’ she whispered, more to herself than to me.

We finished our meal. She picked up the plates.

‘Where’s the kitchen?’ she said.

I pointed towards it. I tried to imagine her living in my house

forever. She would never adjust to living in Dumraon, of course. My

crumbling haveli could never be her 100, Aurangzeb Road.

I went to the kitchen and found her washing dishes.

‘What are you doing?’ I said, surprised.

‘Relax, I do this in Patna, too,’ she said.

‘My mother should see this,’

‘Why?’ she said.

‘Nothing,’ I said.

*

‘Is she here?’ my mother said.

‘Yes,’ I said.

I met my mother in the courtyard as she came back from school. I

took her bag filled with notebooks.We walked into the house.

‘Where is she?’

‘In the guestroom.’

‘Girls are also strange these days. Go live in whichever boy’s

house.’

‘What are you saying, Ma? She is a friend from college. I invited

her over.’

‘Do her parents know?’

‘I don’t know.’

My mother shook her head.

‘Be nice, Ma,’ I said.

‘You like her?’

‘What kind of a question is that? You get people you dislike

home?’

‘Answer straight.’

‘I need to bathe.’

*

The water in the bathroom tap was a mere trickle. It took me forty-

five minutes to fill a bucket and bathe. I changed into shorts and a T-

shirt and came down to the living room. Riya and my mother were

already there.

‘You met already?’ I said.

‘Hi,’ Riya said. ‘I was just chatting with aunty.’

‘You played basketball with her?’ my mother said, sounding

betrayed.

‘Sometimes.’

My mother didn’t respond. I felt guilty. I needed to give a longer

answer.

‘Well, she was in the team too. Girls’ team,’ I said.

'You never mentioned her. You used to talk about basketball so

much,’ my mother said.

‘I didn’t?’ I said, pretending to be surprised.

‘No,’ my mother said.

‘We only played in the first year,’ I said.

‘Why?’ my mother said.

I paused to think.‘Our groups changed,’ I said.

Riya and I looked at each other. Savitri tai brought nimbu paani for

all of us.

My mother turned to Riya.

‘So how long were you married for?’

My mouth fell open. How did my mother know? Riya sensed my

shock.

‘We were chatting earlier,’ she said.

About your divorce?
I thought. She never spoke about it with me.

‘A year and a half,’ Riya said.

‘Kids?’ my mother said.

What the hell? What is Ma talking about?

Riya shook her head.

‘Why did you get married so early?’ my mother said. She

obviously had no filter in her head on what to ask or not. Of course, it

was a question I wanted to ask Riya too.

To my surprise, Riya didn’t filter her responses either.

‘I was stupid. They were family friends. Everyone thought it was a

good idea. But mostly, I did it because I was stupid.’

‘Where are your parents?’

‘Delhi.’

‘You’re a Punjabi?’ my mother said, like all grown-up Indians do.

They just have to know your community.

‘Marwari. I’m Riya Somani.’

‘Ah,’ my mother said. ‘They let you come to Bihar and work?’

‘They don’t let me do things. I wanted to. I can decide for myself,’

Riya said, her feminist feathers beginning to flutter.

‘You can?’ my mother said. I sensed a tinge of sarcasm in her

voice. Riya did too.

‘I mean, those decisions don’t always work out so well. But I do

like to make my ovvn decisions,’ she said.

'They have a big business in Delhi, Ma,’ I said.‘Infrastructure.’

‘Marwaris are a rich community,’ my mother said. ‘Why are you

working?’

'I want to be independent,’ Riya said.

I realized this whole conversation was not flowing like the river of

inilk and honey I had hoped it would.

‘Riya loves litti-chokha. In fact, I called her home for that,’ I said.

My mother’s frown vanished at the mention of her favourite

cuisine.

‘Really?’ she said. ‘When did you have it?’

‘Here in Bihar. Madhav takes me to Maurya Complex in Patna all

the time.’

‘All the time?’my mother said, one eyebrow raised.

‘Well, a few times,’ I said, my tone guilt-ridden again. 'Twice or

thrice. Classes keep me so busy, I don’t get the time.'

Ma took a big sip of her nimbu paani.

‘I thought you go there to study,’she said. ‘Is the speech ready?’

‘Going on. Riya is helping me,’ I said.

‘Is she?’ my mother said. I wished 1 had told her more about Riya,

but I could never gather the courage. I decided the only way forward

was to change the topic.

‘Should I ask Savitri tai to lay the table?’ I said.

‘I can do that,’ Riya said.

My mother looked at her.

‘If it’s okay? I know the kitchen. I can help Savitri tai.’

My mother did not respond. Riya took it as assent and left.

'Now I see why you go to Patna,’ Ma said.

‘It’s not what you think. Riya is just a friend. An old classmate,’ I

said.

‘How come she’s already married and divorced?’

‘That surprised me too. I ran into her in Patna by chance.’

‘And she latched on to you,’ Ma said.

‘Not true. I can’t study English all the time, Ma. I need friends

there. Besides, she helps me practise. Her English is excellent. She is

from a high-class society.’

‘I can see the class,’ my mother said.

‘I don’t know the details of her divorce. Her father is sick. Be nice

to her.’

'I am nice. She is staying in my house. What else do you want me

to do?’

I rolled my eyes.

‘Why is she wearing such tight pants?’ she said next.

‘I have no idea, Ma,’ I said, my voice loud. ‘I don’t know why she

got married or divorced or wears tight pants. Can you let her be?’

‘You are shouting at your mother for her?’

My mother looked away from me. It was Rani Sahiba’s classic

sulky face.

‘I’m not shouting,’ I said, my voice still too loud to classify it as

anything else. My mother looked away.

I realized I needed her cooperation to have a peaceful dinner.

‘Sorry,’ I said.

Ma sniffed.

En route to the dining room with a stack of plates, Riya smiled at

me. I smiled back.

‘I said sorry, Ma,’ I said after Riya went back to the kitchen.

My mother glared at me

'I've suffered enough in life. Don’t add to it,’ she said.

‘I’m not,’ I said.‘By the way, have you heard of Steve Jobs?’

I explained how watching speeches on YouTube had helped me, as

had many of Riya’s unconventional techniques.

‘I have to think in English, Ma. Like high-class people. Their

English sounds different, no?’

‘We are not low class either,’ my mother said.

‘Dinner’s served,’ Riya said, clapping her hands in the dining

room.

We had a peaceful dinner, with no major retorts, taunts or sarcasm.

When two women don’t share the right vibe, a peaceful hour together

is a minor miracle.

‘I ate too much,’ Riya said and held her stomach. ‘This was one of

the best meals I have ever had.’

‘We eat like this every day,’ my mother said, and stood up and left

the table.

28

'I have a confession to make,’ Riya said. We were sitting on a jute

charpoy on the haveli’s roof, looking up at the millions of stars you

could never see in the Delhi night sky. 'What you said about Bihar and

its simplicity in college had something to do with me accepting the

Patna offer.’

‘Really?’ I said. ‘And that you hoped to run into me?’

‘Yeah, right.’ She laughed, so I couldn’t tell if she was being

sarcastic.

‘Don’t worry about my mother,’ I said.

‘I’m not. Why should I be worried?’ she said and smiled at me.

‘All mothers are the same, I guess.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Nothing. She’s Rani Sahiba. Literally, the queen of her castle. She

is entitled to say whatever she wants.’

‘She’s not bad at heart,’ I said.

‘I know. Did she mention me? When I went to the kitchen?’

‘Not really. Why?’

‘My clothes. My divorce. Anything?’

‘Nothing important,’ I said, thinking of little else but how to

casually hold her hand.When I did gather the courage to do it, I lunged

forward suddenly and grabbed her hand. It was not a subtle move.

‘Careful,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘My left wrist. It’s a little tender.’

‘How come?’

‘An old injury.’

‘Basketball?’

She gave a hesitant, non-committal nod. I released her left: hand

and held her right.

‘Your mother is downstairs,’ she said.

I took her words as encouragement. She had not said that holding

her hand was wrong, she only mentioned my mother.

‘She’s asleep,’ I said.

I entwined my fingers with hers. She didn’t protest.

I turned my face towards hers. She freed her hand and slid a few

inches away.

‘Hey, you want to do speech rehearsals here? Its a good place to do

it,’ she said. It is unique, the grace with which girls can deflect

situations and topics.

‘Not now, I’m tired,’ I said.

‘Should we go downstairs then?’ Riya said, all innocence.

I looked into her eyes. She understood that look. We had shared it

years ago in college.