I knocked on the door of Riya’s bedroom, located on the first floor
of her house.
‘Come in, Madhav,’ Riya said and sniffled, ‘Meet your sick friend.’
She was in bed, leaning against the backrest with her legs stretched
out. She wore a white night-suit with pink dots all over it. She looked
like candy, more cute than ill. Viral fever suited her.
‘Wait. Come back in again. I should sit with a thermometer in my
mouth,’ she said.
I smiled and sat on a chair near her bed.
‘How are you feeling?’ I said.
She shifted to the side and bent to look under the bed. She pulled
out a guitar. Strumming it once, she started to sing.
‘Terrible, I feel terrible. And I need a hug.’
I looked at her, surprised.
‘Because I’m sure. That is my only cure.'
She saw my shell-shocked face and winked at me. Even though
she sang as a joke, I loved her voice and the goofy lyrics of her song.
‘You sing well,’ I said, ‘and the guitar-playing is not bad either.’
‘Ha ha. I feel terrible. I also sing terribly,’ she said.
‘No you don’t.You’re good,' I said.
She smiled and kept her guitar aside. She spread her arms.
‘What?’ I said.
‘I said I need a hug.’
It is funny how women feel they have the right to demand physical
affection whenever they want, but men can’t. Like a trained pet, I
stood up and bent to embrace her.
‘You don’t have fever,’ I said as I held her. Her body felt cold, in
fact.
‘I did a few hours ago. I took a nap and now I am better.’
‘You are fine.’
She mock-frowned. 'I am a sick girl. Please take care of me,’ she
said in a baby voice.
I took that as a sign that she was in a good mood. I voiced what
had been haunting me for the past twenty-four hours.
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘The proposal.’
‘Baby, why are you doing this to us?’
‘I can say the same thing to you.’
We locked eyes for a few seconds. I came forward to kiss her. She
ducked, and my lips landed on her forehead.
‘What?’ I said.
‘That was sweet. I like forehead kisses,’ she said.
I gently took hold of her chin and raised her face. Our eyes met
again. I leaned forward to kiss her again.
She moved her face away with a jerk.
‘What, baby?’ I said. If she could call me baby, I could too.
‘No. No, Madhav, no.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t want to. I’m not comfortable.'
‘We did it earlier.’
‘Yes, okay, we did. But I thought about it and I don’t want to.’
‘You don’t want to be with me?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Well, are you my girlfriend?’
‘No,’
‘What are we then?’
‘Friends?’
‘You allow friends to hold you like this?’
I had not let her go. She gently moved away.
‘Okay, I’m your half-girlfriend.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah. I’m close to you. We spend time together. We can have
affectionate hugs. But nothing more.’
‘Nothing more? What is more?’
‘Well, you know what constitutes more.’
We heard a knock on the door.
‘It’s the maid. Can you sit on the chair again, please?’ she said. I
moved back to my seat.The maid brought in a tray with two glasses of
orange juice. Riya and I took one each. We sipped our drinks in
silence.
I wondered what she meant when she said ‘half-girlfriend’.Where
was my expert panel when I needed it?
‘What were you saying? Half?’ I said after the maid left.
She nodded. She seemed clear on what she had in mind.
‘So we are more than friends?’ I said.
‘Well, more than just casual friends ’
‘But I don’t get to kiss you?’
‘You are obsessed with kissing, aren’t you? Is that all I am to you,
a pair of lips?’
She finished her glass of juice. It left a thin orange moustache on
her face.Yes, I wanted to kiss that orange moustache.
The maid knocked on the door again. She brought in a giant
bouquet. It had three dozen fat pink roses with thin silk ribbons tying
them together.
‘Wow,’ Riya said. ‘Who sent these? You?’
I shook my head. I couldn’t afford such fancy flowers.
The maid placed the bouquet on the bedside table and left.
‘It’s Rohan,’ Riya said, reading the ‘get well soon’ tag.
‘Isn’t he in London?’
‘Yes, but he has contacts here.’
‘Are you in touch with him?’
‘Aha, my half-boyfriend is already possessive.’
‘I’m just asking.’
‘Not really. Dad must have told him I’m sick.’
‘Why is he sending you flowers?’
‘Don’t read too much into it. He owns hotels. It’s easy for him. His
secretary must have asked a hotel in Delhi to send them.’
I remained silent. I had no idea. Maybe rich people found it normal
to send flowers across continents to other rich people who had viral
fever. I stood up to leave. She came to the door to see me off. ‘So, we
cool?’ she said.
I nodded. In reality, I didn’t know what to say. I needed my
friends, like, now.
*
I summoned my expert panel for an urgent meeting. All of us sat
cross-legged on the grass lawns outside Rudra. I narrated my
conversation with Riya, my failed attempts at kissing her, her frequent
hugs and Imally the deal on the table—half-girlfriend. I skipped the
flower delivery, though. I didn’t want to bring another variable or
person into the picture.
‘Half isn’t bad. Depends on how you look at it,’ Ashu said. ‘Halfempty
or half-full.’
I idly tugged at blades of grass, waiting for everyone in iny expert
panel to make their opening remarks.
‘Pretty sucky, if you ask me,’ Shailesh said.
‘Pessimist,’ Ashu said. ‘Always glass is half-empty.’
‘No. The half that is missing is pretty vital,’ Shailesh said.
‘Raman?’ I said.
Raman let out a deep sigh. ‘Fuck, if a girl won’t get physical with
you, it’s a warning sign,’ he said.
‘Hell, it’s more than a warning sign,’ Shailesh said. ‘It’s a fire
brigade siren on maximum volume using thousand-watt amplifiers.
Don’t you get it, Mr Dumraon? She is playing with you.’
‘Ashu, you agree?’ I said.
The fat Bihari, always soft and supportive, looked me in the eye.
‘Do you like her?’ he said.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Do you trust her?’
‘I think so. The way she hugged me again and again. Or how she
called me home. Or how she sits in her night clothes in front of me. I
don’t know. It means something, right?’
‘What is your gut feeling?’
‘My gut is bloody confused. That’s why I am asking you guys.’
An army of intellectual men cannot solve the riddle created by an
indecisive woman. My limited-experience panel struggled for words.
‘Say no. No half-girlfriend. All or nothing,’ Shailesh said.
‘All means what?’ I said.
‘All means she is your girlfriend, in private and in public,’ Raman
said.
I pondered over their advice. At one level they made sense.
However, when I was with Riya, she also seemed to make sense.
‘What do I do? She asked if we were cool and I nodded,’ I said.
‘This stuff is not discussed. This stuff is done,’ Shailesh said.
‘How?’
‘Call her to your room.’
‘And then?’ I said.
The three boys looked at each other and smiled meaningfully. ‘And
then what?' I said.
‘Make Bihar proud,’ Raman said and squeezed my shoulder.
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