Chapter 6 Three Months Later

• 'Did you just put your hand on mine?’she whispered, but loud enough for people around us in the movie theatre to look our way.
• 'Accidentally,’ I said.
• 'Learning big English words, are we?’ she said.
• 'I'm trying.’
• ‘Mr Manas Jha, you have come to see a movie. Focus on that.’ 'I'm trying,’ I said again. I turned my attention back to Shah Rukh
• Khan. He had rejoined college and was singing ‘Main hoon na’ to anyone in need of reassurance.
• We had come to the Odeon Cinema in Connaught Place. Riya had finally agreed to see a movie with me. She had lost a basketball bet - she had challenged me to score a basket from half-court in one try.
• ‘Now that will be a super shot,’ she had said.
• ‘What do I get? A movie treat?’
• ‘You can’t do it.’
• I had given it a try and failed the first week. Half-court shots are
• tough. I couldn’t do it in the next two weeks either.
• ‘See, even destiny doesn’t want us to go out,’ she had said.
• In the fourth week, I put in all the focus I had and made my shot.
• The ball hit the ring, circled around it twice and fell into the basket. ‘Yes,’ I screamed.
• Even though she had lost the bet, she clapped.
• ‘So, do I get a date?’ I said.
• ‘It’s not a date. We just go for a movie. Like friends.’ ‘Isn’t that what high-class people call a date?’
• ‘No.’
• ‘What’s a date then?’
• ‘You want to see the movie with me or not?’ she had said, her hands on her hips.
• The hands-on-hips pose meant no further questions. In the three months I had known her, I knew she hated being pushed. I thought maybe that was how rich people were-—somewhat private. We overdid the familiarity in our villages anyway.
• Now, as Shah Rukh Khan continued his song, I wondered what I meant to her. We met in college every day, and ended up having tea at least three times a week. I did most of the talking. I wou!dftell her stories from the residences, or ‘rez’, as the students called them—the fancy word for hostels in Stephen’s. I was in Rudra-North, and told her tales of messy rooms, late-night carrom matches and the respect we needed to show seniors. She listened intently, even smiled sometimes. When I asked herabout her home, she didn't say much. Back in Dumraon it is unthinkable for friends to not share every detail about themselves. High-class people have this concept called space, which means you cannot ask them questions or give them opinions about certain aspects of their life.
• Am I special to her? I kept asking myself. Sometimes I saw her chatting with other guys and felt insanely jealous. My insistence on seeing a movie together was to find out what Riya Somani really thought of Madhav Jha. I had held her hand to figure out where I stood. Given her reaction, nowhere.
• In fact, she removed her arm from the armrest for the rest of the movie. She seemed upset, even though she never said a word. She kept watching the film.
• *
• ‘Is everything okay?’ I said. She sipped her drink in silence. We
• had walked from Odeon to Keventers, famous for its milkshakes sold in glass bottles.
• ‘Uh huh,’ she said, indicating a yes. I hated this response of hers.
• We had finished two-thirds of our milkshakes without talking to each other. She looked straight ahead, lost in thought. I felt she would
• cry if poked.
• ‘I’m sorry.’
• ‘What?’ she said, surprised.
• ‘About placing my hand on yours,’ I said. I didn’t want my stupid move to backfire.
• ‘When?’
• ‘During the movie.You know, I...’
• ‘I don’t even remember that,’ she said, interrupting me.
• ‘Oh,’ I said, and felt a wave of relief run through me. ‘Then why
• do you look upset?’
• ‘Never mind,’ she said. Silent Riya’s typical response. She brushed
• aiide strands of hair from her face.
• ‘Why don’t you ever tell me anything?’ I said, my voice a mixture
• of plea and protest.
• She finished her milkshake and placed the empty bottle on a
• table.‘Ready to go?’ she said instead.
• ‘Riya, we never talk about you. Am I only good enough to play
• basketball with?’ ‘What?’
• ‘We meet, play, eat and talk. But you never share anything important with me.’
• ‘I don’t share much about my life with anyone, Manas
• ‘Am I just anyone?’
• A waiter arrived to collect the empty bottles. She spoke only after
• lie left.‘You are a friend.’ ‘So?’
• ‘So what? I have many friends. I don’t share stuff with them.’
• ‘Am I just like every other friend of yours? Is there nothing special about me?’
• She smiled. ‘Well, you do play basketball better than anyone else.’ I stood up. I didn’t find her funny.
• ‘Hey, wait.’ Riya pulled me down again.
• I sat down with a stern expression.
• ‘Why do you want to know about my life?’ she said.
• ‘It matters to me. Unlike your other friends, I can tell if something.
• is bothering you. And, if something is bothering you, it bothers me. I want to know things about you, okay? But getting you to talk is like a dentist pulling teeth.’
• She laughed and interrupted my rant.
• ‘I have a fucked-up family. What do you want to know?’ she said. I looked at her, puzzled and astonished at her choice of words. More than anything, I could not associate any family with a BMW
• to be fucked up.
• Her eyes met mine, perhaps for a final check to see if I deserved
• her trust. ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ she said.