Someone Like You (12 page)

‘Why? He saved both of you from God-knows-what. And I think he is hot!’ she says and takes another bite of her burger and wipes the dripping mayonnaise with a tissue.

‘He is
not
hot. He is just average,’ I say. I think of Akshat and his perfection and this guy is nowhere near him. His hair is a crumpled mess, his jeans are worn out and his black t-shirt looks like it’s what he has been wearing for many days now.

‘But he helped you! You should say thanks, it’ll be rude not to. Go talk to him,’ she says.

‘I think we should,’ Tanmay says.

Just as I am about to give a serious thought to going over and thanking him for the morning, I see him flip down the laptop cover. He takes off his spectacles and his smouldering eyes look up. I realize that he looks different when his eyes are not looking directly at you, because when they do, it’s all you can look at.

He drops his spectacles and the laptop in what looks like a gym bag, gets up and winks at the guy at the counter at McDonald’s who smiles back at him. He then takes out his iPod, plugs the earphones in and heads towards the exit. He is quite tall, I notice. He shakes the hand of the guard standing at the door and moves out. All this while, we three stare at him unblinkingly.

‘He really is hot,’ Pia says once he is out of the door.

‘He is not,’ I protest. Even if he is, he is not my kind. He is too dirty and too …
rough
for my taste. Not that I have dated much to have a type. But, I like guys who are … like Akshat. My mind wanders off to thoughts about him again.

‘He
so
is. You’re blind! I wish he had saved me, and not you,’ Pia says and laughs out loud.

We finish our burgers and I can see Tanmay steal glances at Pia every now and then. I don’t blame him, because I find myself doing the same. She is such a nice little girl—cute as a bug and pure as an angel.

Just as we are leaving McDonald’s, my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number, but I still take the call.

‘Hi?’ I ask. ‘Who’s this?’

‘Hi, Niharika. I am coming to Nagpur,’ Aksaht’s voice says from the other end.

I look at my phone, it’s not ringing. Obviously, it’s not. I had destroyed my phone’s SIM card the day Akshat had called. I had to replace the Jaipur SIM card with a Nagpur one anyway. Right after the call, I had gotten myself a new number and he has not called ever since. I don’t know whether I want him to call or not, but I find myself staring at my phone every now and then.

It’s been a week and I remember my entire schedule by heart, but Pia and I still stick a huge timetable on my cupboard to remind us. The classes have been easy and none of the professors are really strict. It’s been one week but it feels like we have been doing this for months. Classes, canteen, copied assignments, classes again, an odd movie, late night gossip, sleep and the same thing the next day.

‘Don’t forget the apron,’ Pia reminds me as I pack a lone register in my bag.

She has turned out to be a perfect roommate. I had thought that after having been surrounded by servants cleaning up after her all her life, she would know nothing about doing it herself. But I soon found out she is a neat freak and has no pretensions. I had expected her to be a spoilt brat, but apart from the expensive clothes that she wears and lets me borrow, she is a very nice girl.

‘Oh yes,’ I say. ‘But maybe you should forget yours and let some guy sacrifice his for you!’

We both laugh. Pia has been getting strange phone calls, letters and text messages from scores of guys, all trying to ask her out. I have received my share, too, but the number is nothing in comparison. Tanmay says everyone thinks that he and I are dating. I don’t mind that, because I have seen Pia getting disturbed in the middle of the night by the incessant ringing of her phone.

‘Oh, c’mon, he was really nice,’ Pia says, referring to the guy who offered her his apron the last time. He was thrown out of the class and he had not protested.

‘I never said he was not nice. Didn’t you look at his poor face when he kept staring at you from outside the class?’

‘He did? That’s creepy,’ she says and locks the room behind us.

‘And don’t you think it’s high time you told me more about Vishal?’ I ask, as we start walking towards the workshop, which is a ten-minute walk away.

It had not taken me long to discover that Pia has a boyfriend. On the very first day, when we came back from our dinner, she had started crying on the phone. I had assumed that it was her boyfriend, which she confirmed later. When Tanmay got to know about it, his lips did curve downwards, making him look even more adorable, but then he said he never had a shot anyway. I marvel at how clean at heart he is.

‘Okay. I met Vishal when I joined a new school in the eleventh standard. Vishal wasn’t a science student; he was in the commerce section. So I didn’t notice him in the beginning, but we had our maths tuitions together, so I slowly got to know him, and we fell in love. He is a very nice guy and we both love each other. We’ve been together for two years now … And you know what? Every year on my birthday, he gives me twelve poems written by him—one for every
month,’ she says fondly. ‘They are really, really bad, but it’s so sweet of him, no?’

She laughs and I laugh with her.

‘That’s very romantic! You’re a lucky girl,’ I say, and ask the next obvious question. ‘So, now? Where is he?’

‘Bangalore. He’s doing BBA from Christ College there.’

‘Oh. Long-distance relationship …’ I trail off.

‘I wonder if it will work,’ she says exactly what I had been wondering. It is one of those rare moments when I don’t see her smiling or laughing. Nagpur is hardly close to Bangalore. And in this case, it’s a minimum of three years of separation, till Vishal completes his course. How will it last?

‘It’s not impossible …’ I answer vaguely. What else could I say?

‘Hmm. We love each other a lot. I hope that’s enough,’ she said, sounding a little sad.

‘Relax. It will work out, then. Love answers a lot of questions.’ I try to cheer her up. She smiles. I send a silent prayer to God—
Please make it last. Please prove me wrong.

‘Where is Tanmay?’ she asks.

‘Oh, there are football auditions today, for the college team. Tanmay has gone there. I don’t think he will attend classes today.’

‘Tanmay plays football?’ Pia looks at me, her eyes wide in shock.

‘Yes, he does. I was shocked too. And he has this whole football kit with him—shoes, shin guard and everything. He showed it to me yesterday. He seemed very excited about today.’

‘
Haw!
Why didn’t he show me?’ Pia makes a sad face.

‘You were in the gym,’ I say. ‘And I think he is a little shy in front of you. He likes you.’

‘He
DOES NOT
!’

‘He does. It’s at least a crush,’ I say.

‘It’s not like that,’ she says. ‘Whatever. So, can we, like, go and see the auditions?’

‘I think so,’ I say and we decide to drop the classes and go to the football field straight away. It is at the opposite end of the college campus and by the time we reach there, I am out of breath and the excitement to see Tanmay play has totally drained out. We climb over the railing, which Pia does with surprising ease, and walk towards the football field.

‘That’s why you should go to the gym,’ she mocks me when she sees me out of breath. She has been waking up at six in the morning every single day and comes back at eight, sweating and looking sexy, while I sleep my head off.

‘I can’t get up that early and after college, I am just tired,’ I defend myself.

‘It’s your loss, really. Many good-looking guys come to the gym. You would be surprised that our college has them,’ she says and winks at me.

‘Good-looking guys, eh? I think it’s time we call Vishal!’

‘Oh! No! I was saying—for you, not me. And there aren’t a lot of them there anyway. It’s basically empty. But that guy from McDonald’s? The rough, hot guy? He does come there every morning, with his girlfriend.’

‘Girlfriend?’ I ask. I hadn’t realized that he had a girlfriend.

‘There is always a girl with him who keeps falling all over him, so I assumed that they were together. I don’t know for sure. But why are
you
so interested in that, anyway?’ she winks at me and smiles naughtily.

‘I am not. I was just asking generally,’ I say.

We turn to the football field—which, too, is nicely maintained—and find that we are not the only people there who had no intentions to audition for the team. The stand looks pretty full. There are a lot of people loitering around, bunking classes to be here. Most of them are girls. Tanmay had told me that our college’s football team was one of
the best in the state, but we have not won in the last six years. He seemed quite pumped about the team, because the tournament is due to start in a month’s time and he desperately wants to make it to the team.

‘There he is!’ I shout out and wave at him.

He is surrounded by a bunch of guys and they are just practising. There is still some time for the auditions to start and the seniors are nowhere to be seen.

‘He looks different,’ Pia notes.

She is right. The spectacles are off and he is in a football uniform—probably his school’s jersey—and looks athletic. His comparatively dark and skinny legs stretch out from his shorts and you need to just look at him to know that he really knows his game. His brand-new shoes shine brightly and if anything, look out of place. After seeing him in his geek glasses, and getting used to his nerdy behaviour, this was a change.

A little later, a group of guys—around thirteen of them—walk on to the football field in their dirty blue and white uniforms. Clearly, this is the famed football team of our college. Tanmay had told me stories about the ten-year-long winning streak—the highest in the state—and then the three-year drought. He told me that the seniors really wanted to win this time.

‘HEY! LISTEN UP, EVERYONE!’
a tall guy with a slightly heavy build shouts and the juniors assemble in front of them.
‘WE WILL GIVE YOU ONE CHANCE AND ONE CHANCE ONLY TO MAKE IT TO THE TEAM. PROVE YOURSELF.’

He signals to them to huddle around another guy, a shorter one, who explains the rules. There will be a match between unequal teams. Five juniors against eleven seniors—a five-minute match. The juniors are asked to split themselves
into teams of five. They form six teams, but Tanmay and two frail-looking kids are left out. No one picks them.

The shorter guy announces that the rules will remain the same and they will have to go up against the eleven seniors. I think it is highly unfair and I see Tanmay’s face droop. I know how badly he wants this. But there is nothing he can do about it.

Soon, the matches begin. The first team takes the field and the five minutes that follow are painful to watch. After the first five goals scored by the seniors, the juniors give up. The seniors make fun of them mercilessly. The juniors crawl on their knees when they return. The score of the next match is 13–0 and of the one after that, 14–0. It continues thus.

The score cards of the matches don’t reflect even the tiny bit of humiliation the juniors have faced. The senior football team looks like a bunch of arrogant assholes. Or it’s the wounded glory of losing the state title five years in a row that shows on the field. They take out their frustration on the poor kids, and we feel sorry for them.

I dread Tanmay’s team’s turn. They have been sitting on a bench right opposite us on the stands, and when it’s their turn, they get up together and make their way to the centre of the field. We try to catch Tanmay’s eye to wish him luck, but he doesn’t look up even once. I can feel his fear. I feel sad to see their dried-up faces and dampened enthusiasm.

The ball is kicked to Tanmay, who stands at the centre line, with the ball under his feet, and his teammate standing next to him. There is just one guy on his side, since his only other teammate guards the goalpost. On the other side of the goalposts, there are eleven ravenous wolves waiting to taste blood again.

Tanmay kicks the ball to his teammate, who kicks it back to Tanmay in a split second. And then does it again. We can
see by now that his teammate is a wimp. Tanmay looks ahead and weaves the ball through the first five seniors, who are befuddled, but then he is soon surrounded by more seniors. He tries to keep the ball, but ends up losing it to the seniors. I can see him struggle to prove himself, but none of what he does seems to help. There is something wrong with his kick too. The ball never ends up where he intends to send it. He panics and swings his kick wildly. The ball bounces high in the air, drops to the ground and rolls over outside the playing area. The seniors snigger and the entire crowd—which consists of girls who have been looking at the athletic, rude seniors and sighing—knows where this match is going.

‘25–0?’ Pia asks and bites her nails.

‘I hope not,’ I murmur.

The ball is still outside the playing area and one of the seniors is walking towards it. Obviously, no one is in a hurry.

Just outside the playing area, someone kicks the ball into mid-air, balances it on his head, bounces it a few times on his forehead and shifts it back under his foot. One hand on his side, his head cocked the other way, the intruder says, ‘Now, now. This is
not
fair play!’

‘BUZZ OFF FROM MY FIELD!’
the captain shouts and walks angrily towards the guy who just walked in.

‘Here is he again,’ Pia points out, as if I have not already realized that it’s the dark-eyed guy—the guy from the mess, the canteen, McDonald’s and from Pia’s early morning gym. The guy with a girlfriend.

‘Oh, really, Mandar? So that you can gratify your sadist selves by defeating these juniors? Look at them—they are just kids!’ he says with unabashed authority. Somehow, I notice that apart from the hostile stance of the team’s captain, the rest of the team is smiling and even seems pleased by the new entrant’s presence.

‘IT’S NONE OF YOUR FREAKING BUSINESS!’
the
captain—whom the dark-eyed guy refers to as Mandar—shouts again.

‘Oh, I get it. Beating these kids will inflate your ego, won’t it? That too, outnumbered three against eleven? But let me tell you what—
it still won’t give you a bigger dick!
’ he shouts and the crowd greets this with a wild roar of laughter. The captain, Mandar, looks seriously offended.

‘Fine, you asshole. You can join them and see us beat the shit out of you.’

‘We’ll see,’ the dark-eyed guy says and walks up to the team of three already beaten down juniors. I see him wink at them as he walks close. He is the only guy in the field in a plain black tee and jeans, and sticks out like a sore thumb.

Tanmay’s eyes light up when he sees him. The guy hugs him and the other two juniors. I see Tanmay say something to him, before making his way towards us. When he gets to us, he swiftly removes his shoes and starts to pull off one of his socks.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask, baffled.

‘I can’t play with these shoes on,’ he murmurs, not making eye contact.

‘What do you mean? Are you changing shoes?’ Pia asks. We cannot see a spare pair of shoes anywhere in sight.

Tanmay says something very softly, that we both do not understand. ‘No … without shoes …’

‘Tanmay, what is going on?’ I ask, now concerned.

He folds both his socks and stuffs them into his shoes, before pushing them under my seat. He looks up at me, and meets my eye, carefully avoiding Pia’s eye, before saying softly, ‘I have played football barefooted all my life. No shoes used to last more than a few weeks and we did not have enough money to get a new pair every month. So I have always played without my shoes on. Now, it seems like I cannot aim with these on.’ He points to the brand-new
pair of shoes he had bought out of his savings, now lying useless under my bench.

I nod silently and whisper, ‘Good luck.’

‘Go get them,’ Pia says, and I see Tanmay blush slightly before turning around and running to the field.

Pia and I cross our fingers. The match starts, and the seniors miss a goal. They are already a little disturbed by the new guy’s presence and one of them shoots the ball outside nervously, seeing the guy in front of him.