Half Girlfriend (26 page)

journals.'

I placed the journals in Madhav’s lap.

‘Here,’ I said, ‘take these.’

‘Why? I said I don’t want to. I can't,’

‘Just take them,’ I said in a firm voice.

He kept his hand on the notebooks in his lap.

‘I have marked out six legible entries. You need to read them,

buddy,’ I said.

‘No, no, no,’ he said and placed the books back on the dining

table, ‘I told you, I can’t. I made myself get over her during these last two years. Now to read all this will only undo all that.’

‘Trust me, Madhav. You need to read them.’

RIYA’S JOURNAL:

Legible entry #1

1 November 2002

This journal is a birthday gift from me to me. It is my fifteenth

birthday. Happy Birthday to me. I feel odd celebrating birthdays now.

I am not a grownup, but I don’t feel like a child either.

They say people write secrets in journals. Should I write one

down?

They say I am so quiet. Silent Riya. Mysterious Riya. Shy Riya.

I don’t answer them. All I want to say is, if you crush a flower

before it blooms, will it ever bloom as bright later?

I was not quiet as a child. I became this way. Dad knows I

changed. Dad knows I remember everything. Still, he pretends

nothing happened. I do the same.

He hasn’t touched me for the last three years. He dare not.

I don’t know why I did not tell Mom. Maybe I didn’t even know if it

was right or wrong at that time. What could she have done anyway?

Dad gave me a gold necklace today. I returned it. I find it difficult
to talk to him. He tries to reach out, but I avoid him. He says I am

still his daughter. I like writing in this journal. I am able to say things
I never can otherwise. My brother is an idiot. So are Chacha ji and

Taya ji’s boys. Spoilt brats, all of them. Just because they are boys,
nobody tells them what to do. I hate these double standards.

Yeah, this journal does allow me to vent. Good night, journal.

Legible entry #2

15 December 2005

It’s over. We are over.

Madhav and I, well, we never had anything as such. Whatever it

was, it is over. He made me feel so cheap. All in Hindi. Crass Bihari
Hindi. He’s sick. I should have known. What was I thinking?

I actually hung out with him for a year. I let him kiss me.Yuck.

My friends were right. He is an idiot gawaar. I must have had a

phase of insanity. Why else would I have even talked to him?

He was not fake, that’s why.

But, all he wanted was to fuck me. Really, I know it sounds

disgusting, but that is what he wanted. And imagine someone saying

that to you in Hindi. Being told to fuck him or fuck off.

Well, mister, I am fucking off, for good. How dare you talk to me

like that? I feel like smashing his head on the basketball court.

I told him I needed time. Lots of it. Well, he didn 't want to waste

time. Because his main purpose was sex. So he could tell his friends

he nailed this rich chick.

Well, fuck off, says the rich chick.

Legible entry #3

4 September 2006

I said yes to Rohan. Yes, a month ago, when the proposal had

come, I had called it the most bizarre idea ever. Rohan bhaiya and

me? Had my mother lost her marbles? He was my rakhi brother, for

God's sake. Not to mention I am just about turning nineteen and still
in college.

But today I said yes. Well, it has been an eventful month. First,

the gifts that arrived from London every week. Louis Vuitton

handbags, Chanel perfumes, Omega watches—Rohan sent them all,

not just for me, but the entire family
My parents felt we may never get
this good a match again. My mother said I didn’t need to study more

as Rohan’s family was so rich.

I still didn't give in, until last night.

Yesterday, Rohan came down from London to Delhi. He came

down for just four hours, only to see me. None of our parents know he
did. He came and picked me up from Stephen’s in the Bentley he keeps

in India. We went for a long drive. He said he loves to travel, and I
would make his best travel and life partner. He said he realized I was
young, but I could continue to study in London. He had found out

from Mom that I wanted to study music. He had brought a list of the

top music schools in London with him.

Later, he went down on his knees. He took out a blue Tiffany’s box.

It had a giant three-carat diamond ring in it.

'It’s still your choice,’ he said. He put the ring back in the box and
handed it to me. Finally, he said, 'Miss Riya Somani, the most

beautiful person I know, inside and outside, since my childhood, will
you marry me?’

So, dear journal, what’s a girl to do?

That night, I took out the ring from the blue box and put it on. I

showed it to Mom. She's still on the phone with Rohan’s mother,

hysterical with happiness.

I feel rushed, yes, but this time in a good way.

Legible entry #4 (Set of several entries from London)

4 April 2007

I came to London in the middle of the academic year for music

schools. Also, they are so hard to get into. I have to prepare, apply,
give tests'. It is going to take at least eight months.

Rohan’s mother wants me to meet her friends for dimer tonight.

Every night there is someone to meet. These guys are social, and how.

I told her I should stay back because Rohan was not in town, but she

said I have to come. Oh well, yet another party. Boring.

10 July 2007

Rohan travels all the time, and for a long time. He has just

extended his trip by two weeks. I joined him for two days, and saw a

bit of Istanbul. However, he’s in meetings all day and it is no fun to
roam around all alone after a white. Besides, Rohan’s mom called me

back. She was planning a party and the new daughter-in-law had to

be there.

‘So pretty,’ one of her friends had said.

‘Good you brought a girl from India. They listen to you,’ said

another.

6 September 2007

He came home drunk. He tried to hit me.

‘Why didn’t you take my call?’ he yelled.

I was in music class. I had told him. I had messaged him right

after.

‘It’s midnight, Rohan. What kind of business meetings happen so

late?’

'Shut the fuck up, bitch. What do you know about work?’

'You will not talk to me like this.’

I turned around and walked away from him.

‘You will not walk away from me like this.’

‘You learn to talk and I will stay put.’

‘I’m not drunk,’ he slurred.

I turned to him. ‘For your information, I’m twenty. I was studying

in college. I left it to marry you.’

‘You left it to live like a queen.’

‘Rohan,’ I said and paused to compose myself. ‘I had a good life

in India, too.’

‘Somani Infra owned between three brothers versus my business?

Girl, what are you comparing?’

‘I am not comparing anything. I want you to stop making me out

to be this gold-digger.’

He staggered and sat on the oversized grotesque sofa in the

drawing room. ‘Sit,’ he said, patting the seat next to him.

I complied.

‘Mom said you didn’t talk to her properly when you were leaving

home today.’

‘Of course I did.’

‘Is she lying?’

'I was late for class. She wanted me to go with her to the salon. I

said we could go tomorrow.’

‘You don’t say that to my mother. Ever.’

‘I had a class, Rohan.’

‘What class? You haven’t even got admitted to a college.’

‘Yes, that’s next year. I have joined prep classes for music. It isn’t
that easy to get admitted to one of these colleges. I’ve told you all
this before.’

Rohan went up to the bar. He picked up a bottle.

‘Stop,’ I said and tried to take the bottle from him.

‘What the fuck?’ Rohan said. ‘Let go. Now.’

He pushed me hard. I lost my balance and slipped. He bent over

me. ‘Don’t touch me,’ I said and pushed him away.

I miss home. I miss college. I miss not being told how to speak to

someone elsc’s mother.

Good night, journal. It is a good thing you aren’t married.

7 September 2007

He has apologized. He said work stress was getting to him. ‘I have

a long way to go, Riya, I am nothing compared to the big hotel

moguls of the world.’

‘Why do you have to be a big hotel mogul?’ I said.

But he began to speak of his mother. ‘She’s suffered a lot in life.

My father did not treat her well. I want to be therefor her.’

Hangovers make him senti.

11 lanuary 2008

Wear only Indian clothes. Can you believe this? This is what

Rohan’s mom said to me today.

‘If it makes her happy, do it. What difference does it make?’ Rohan

had said, as he chose from his two-dozen pairs of shoes this morning.

‘Why?’ I said. It isn’t like I don’t like Indian clothes. The point is,
why does she get to tell me what to wear?

'You can get the best Indian designer clothes. You want me to send

the hotel concierge? He will take you to the boutiques.’

‘That’s not the point, Rohan,’ I said.

‘Stop fussing. Her friends have certain expectations of her bahu.

You nudged in yesterday wearing a short dress.’

‘It was a regular dress, almost to my knees. Anyway, what if it was

short? What is this? A family dress code?’

He snapped his fingers at me.

‘Do it. Don’t argue.’

This is what they call marital bliss, I guess.

18 March 2008

I made a mistake. A big, big mistake. I can’t be in denial anymore.

I made a mistake marrying Rohan.

11 June 2008

He slapped me in front of his mother, thrice. She didn’t stop him.

She kind of liked it. He even pulled my hair.

Should I go into the details? I don’t think so. What is the point?

Drunk husband, mother-in-law finding something to be pissed off

about. This time it was about me seemingly ignoring her when she

called me five times (I had headphones on, and was listening to my

music tapes). Mother and son lectured me on how lucky I was, that

Rohan was at least twenty times richer than my dad, and if I didn’t

behave there would be consequences.

But now comes the real news. Rohan was sleeping when his plum,

buzzed at 3 a.m. He didn’t wake up. It buzzed again. I feared if he

woke lif he would fight with me again. I was enjoying the night’s

silence. So I walked up to the bedside table and picked up his phone

to put it on silent. It buzzed again. A Whatsapp message flashed in

the notifications. It was from someone called Kristin: Miss ur body

honey. Wish I had u with me tonight.

Kristin had sent pictures of her body too.

I came back to bed. I didn’t feel bad. In fact, I felt light. I had to
make a tough decision and that decision had just been made for me.

Legible entry #5

13 June 2008

My marriage is over.

I left London without telling anyone and came home. I landed in

Delhi this morning. When I told Mom everything, she wanted me to

take the next flight back, and she had to call Dad. I told her I had

decided I was not going back, no matter what Dad said.

‘He seemed so nice,’ Dad said at dinner without looking at me.

I explained Rohan to them. Rohan liked to conquer. Whether it is

a hotel property or his wife, he liked the thrill of chasing more than
what he chased.

'I said no to him. He had to have me. Once he did, he didn’t care,’

I said
I skipped some stuff. I didn’t say how he used to force himself
on me when he was drunk. I didn’t say anything about Rohan’s

mother asking her son to teach me a lesson, or about Kristin.

'Rohan’s mother controls him. And she doesn’t like me,’ is all I

said.

‘Women have to learn to adjust, beta,’ my mother said.

‘Adjust? How does one adjust to violence?’

I lifted my left hand to show her the swelling. Rohan had pushed

me and I had broken my wrist.

'What will people say?’ Mom blurted out.

Let's find out.

Legible entry set #6

17 February 2009