Half Girlfriend

by Chetan Bhagat

  Did I hallucinate? I asked myself. No, I had seen her. The walk, the gait, the face—there is only one Riya.

  I rushed to the foyer and just about saw her leave in an Innova. She had sunglasses on. The car windows were rolled up.

  ‘Can I help you, sir?’ a young hotel staff member at the concierge desk asked me.

  ‘The lady who left just now. You saw her? Mustard salwar-kameez?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where did she go?’

  ‘We don’t know, sir. It’s a private taxi.’

  ‘Will she be back?’

  ‘Not sure, sir. Sorry. Is there a problem, sir?’

  I shook my head. I walked back into the hotel, wondering what to do next.

  I went to the coffee shop again and found the waiter.

  ‘You just gave a bill to a lady.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘She might be an old friend of mine. Can I see it?’

  The waiter looked at me with suspicion.

  ‘I was just here with the foreigners. We sat there,’ I said, pointing to our table. If you are seen hanging out with white guys, people assume you are not a bad person.

  The waiter went to the cash counter. He brought back the bill. I saw her signature. Yes, I had bumped into Riya Somani, after all.

  ‘231,’ the waiter said. ‘She signed the bill to her room.’

  ‘She is staying here?’ I said.

  ‘Of course,’ the waiter said. He looked at me as if I was a certified idiot.

  I heaved a sigh of relief. I came to the reception and enquired about a guest named Riya in 231.

  ‘Yes, it is a company booking. She is here for a week.’

  ‘When will she come back?’

  ‘Can’t say, sir. If you leave your name and number we can ask her to contact you.’

  I wasn’t sure if Riya would do that. If I had to meet her, I had no choice but to wait. I decided to skip my English classes. I sat in the lobby, my eyes fixed on the entrance.

  I waited for twelve hours.

  I didn’t allow myself to use the bathroom lest I miss her again. I didn’t eat food or drink water all day either. My eyes scanned every car arriving at the hotel.

  At seven in the evening, Samantha, Chris and Rachel returned from their trip. Their faces had turned black with Bihar’s dust. They looked exhausted.

  ‘Madhav?’ Samantha said, surprised.

  ‘Oh, hi,’ I said, pretending to be equally astonished. ‘I came for another meeting.’

  ‘At Chanakya itself?’ Samantha said.

  I nodded. Chris said he needed a shower or he would die. They left me in the lobby and went up to their rooms.

  At 8.30 p.m., an Innova pulled into the front porch. Riya stepped out of it. My heart started to play hopscotch. A part of me wanted to run away. It shuddered at the thought of facing her. Another part had made me sit here without a break for twelve hours.

  She didn’t notice me. She went up to the reception.

  ‘231, please,’ she said. The receptionist turned towards the key rack.

  I walked up to the reception. ‘Excuse me, which way is the coffee shop?’ I said. I had to make it seem like she saw me first. That’s Riya. She had to find me. If I found her, she might just run away.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Riya said. ‘Madhav Jha.’

  ‘Riya. . . Riya Somani, right?’ I said.

  ‘Wow, you have difficulty recollecting my name, Madhav Jha!’

  ‘Riya Somani,’ I said, giving up all pretence of indifference. The receptionist seemed surprised at the happy coincidence right at her counter.

  Riya took her keys and we stepped away from the counter.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she said. ‘Wow, I still can’t get over it. Madhav Jha.’

  ‘I am a Bihari. This is Patna. My hometown is not far away. I should ask you what you are doing here.’

  ‘Work. My company sent me.’

  ‘Work?’

  ‘Yeah, you didn’t think I could work?’ Riya said.

  ‘No, nothing like that. What kind of work? You moved to London, right?’

  Riya looked around the hotel lobby.

  ‘Let’s talk properly,’ she said. ‘You had dinner?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Hungry?’

  I could have eaten the flowers in the lobby at this point.

  ‘A little bit,’ I said.

  ‘Let’s go to the coffee shop.’

  ‘Okay, but can I use the toilet first?’ I said.

  We entered the coffee shop. The waiter from the morning was still on duty. He gave me an all-knowing smile. I smiled back.

  ‘You found madam,’ he said. Ass, I thought.

  ‘What?’ Riya said.

  ‘Nothing. Yes, for me and madam. Table for two, please. ’

  23

  We sat at a corner table and had our first meal together in three years. The effect some people’s mere presence can have on you is indescribable. Everything on offer in the rather ordinary evening buffet tasted divine. The salty tomato soup was the best I had ever had. The matar-paneer tasted like an award-winning chef had made it. The lights from the traffic jam visible outside the window looked like fireflies. I kept silent, worried I would say something stupid to upset her or, worse, make her run away.

  ‘You’ve become so quiet,’ she said.

  ‘Nothing like that,’ I said. I looked at her. She looked, if possible, even more stunning than she had been in college.

  ‘So, tell me, what have you been up to?’ she said.

  Over the next ten minutes, I told her about my life since college.

  ‘You run a school. And Bill Gates is visiting it,’ she said. ‘Wow.’

  ‘He’s visiting many places.’

  ‘Come on, don’t be modest. You are doing something so different from the rest of our batchmates.’

  ‘I’m a misfit, I guess. Who leaves HSBC to come to Dumraon?’ I said.

  ‘Cool people,’ Riya said. Our eyes met. I tried to read her, considering she had said so little about herself. I couldn’t find anything too different, apart from a touch of maturity. I wanted to ask her about her past few years. However, I wouldn’t push it.

  ‘How’s Rohan?’ I said.

  ‘You remember his name? So what was that “Riya, Riya Somani, right?” business in the lobby?’

  I smiled. She had caught me red-handed.

  ‘Rohan should be fine,’ she said.

  ‘Should be?’

  ‘I don’t know. He must be.’

  ‘Rohan is your husband, right?’

  She became quiet.

  ‘You want anything sweet? They have kulfi and gulab jamun,’ I said, desperate to change the topic.

  ‘We got divorced,’ she said in a calm voice, as if she had expressed her sweet-dish preference.

  I didn’t have anything to say. Apart from shock, I felt a warm tingle at the back of my neck.

  Had I just felt happy at what she said? I clenched my teeth. I didn’t want my smile to leak out.

  Oh my God, that is the best news I have heard in years, a cheerful voice spoke inside my head. Even my soul jumped about in excitement.

  I tried to look as serious as possible.

  ‘That’s terrible,’ I said at last.

  She nodded.

  ‘Sweet dish?’ I said in a soft voice. Well, the occasion did deserve something sweet.

  She shook her head. She looked upset, on the verge of tears. I wanted to touch her hand, but I restrained myself.

  ‘What happened?’ I said, my tone as genuine as possible.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  I nodded. Typical Riya, I thought.

  ‘Can we talk about something else, please?’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, sure. What?’

  ‘Anything?’

  ‘You want kulfi?’ I said.

  ‘No, Madhav, I don’t want kulfi. Or anything else to eat. Can you talk about something else, please?’

 
I thought I had talked about something else. Doesn’t the topic of kulfi count as something else? Well, who can argue with girls?

  ‘How long are you in Patna for?’ I said.

  ‘My job is here. I have to find a place to live, actually.’

  ‘Really? Which company do you work for?’

  ‘Nestlé. I am in sales, for their yogurt brand.’

  ‘Ah,’ I said.

  ‘What?’ she said.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘In case you’re wondering what the hell I’m doing selling yogurt in Patna, well, it’s hard for a college dropout to find a job, isn’t it? Especially when the dropout wants to work on her own and not with her rich dad?’

  ‘I wasn’t wondering about that at all,’ I said. I really didn’t care why she was in Patna; I was only delirious with joy she was in Patna.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘when do you go back to Dumraon?’

  ‘You remember Dumraon?’ I said smilingly.

  ‘How can I forget the only prince I have ever known and his kingdom?’

  She picked up a spoon and took a bite of my kulfi. I thought she didn’t want anything sweet.

  Why do girls always do the opposite of what they say they want to do?

  She took more bites of the kulfi and ended up eating more of it than me.

  ‘Do you remember anything else, Riya?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Us?’

  She looked at me.

  ‘Madhav. . .’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’ve changed, Madhav,’ she said. ‘In college I was an immature, over-protected, idiotic eighteen-year-old with no clue about life.’

  ‘We were all young back then,’ I said, jumping to her defence.

  ‘I am sorry, because I know I hurt you. The last two years have taught me a lot.’

  Her unexpected apology startled me. I realized that I could be in love with this Riya even more than the previous one. ‘What actually happened?’

  ‘I’d rather not talk about it. At least, not now.’

  I clucked impatiently.

  ‘What?’ she said.

  ‘Nothing. This is so you. The freezing up. I do know you, Riya, even if it was in the past.’

  ‘If you know me, why do you push?’

  ‘Who pushed? I met you after years, so asked you. However, I have no right to anymore. So, sorry, madam.’ I became silent.

  ‘Don’t be like that,’ she said.

  I looked away and spoke again. ‘You shoved a wedding card in my hand and disappeared. I run into you after years and I shouldn’t ask you what happened?’

  ‘You should.’

  ‘That is what I did.’

  ‘Fine, I’m sorry. And I’ve already apologized for the past. Madhav, look at me.’

  I turned my gaze back to her. I could only be mad at Riya for so long. She smiled. I maintained a stern expression.

  ‘Would you like to be friends with me?’ she said.

  I hate it when she says that. What the fuck is that? Is it an invitation? Is it a consolation prize? Is it a peace treaty?

  I remained silent.

  ‘I live in Patna. You come here often. We could be friends. Would you like that?’ she said.

  That was another thing I hated. That I always let her decide when to be friends or when not to. I had no power to refuse her.

  ‘Yes, I would,’ I said.

  ‘Great. I would like us to be good friends, too,’ she said. ‘However, I have one condition.’

  I rolled my eyes. There is always a catch with Riya. What is it going to be this time? Have no expectations?

  ‘Say it,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t ask me the same question twice.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Ask me things. I will reply if and when I can. If I don’t, please don’t ask me again.’

  ‘Really?’ I said.

  ‘Yes. That is when it seems pushy.’

  ‘Fine. I don’t want to be pushy.’

  ‘Whenever you are in Patna we can meet up. Maybe you can show me the city.’

  ‘I am here this weekend.’

  ‘Sunday is my day off. I have some apartments to look at, though.’

  ‘Would you like me to come apartment-hunting with you?’ I said.

  She fell silent. I had become too familiar too soon.

  ‘It’s okay. We can meet another time,’ I said quickly.

  ‘No, come. You are right. They will quote crazy rates to me otherwise.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to ask twice,’ I said and she laughed.

  ‘What time should I fix to meet with the broker?’ she said.

  ‘I have a morning class until eleven and then I’m free until four-thirty,’ I said.

  ‘Class?’ she said.

  ‘I’d rather not talk about it right now.’

  She raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Don’t ask the same question twice. Applies both ways, right?’

  I heard her laugh again, the most beautiful sound in the world.

  24

  ‘Oh, I love this place,’ she said. ‘Look at the balcony.’

  ‘Stop it. If you praise it so much, he will never give us a good price,’ I said.

  We were in an apartment close to Dak Bungalow Road in Indiranagar, an upscale and relatively quiet neighbourhood in noisy Patna.

  After viewing many apartments smaller than the servant quarters of 100, Aurangzeb Road, we had finally stumbled upon the right one. It was a colonial apartment building with twelve-foot high ceilings. It had old teak windows and doors. Both the bedrooms had a sunny balcony facing a park. There was a spacious kitchen with a loft for storage. I knew Riya would take this place.

  ‘Shhh,’ she said and placed a finger on her lips.

  ‘Twenty thousand,’ the broker said, probably sensing our keenness.

  ‘So much? Have you had bhaang?’ I said.

  ‘It is the safest area in Patna. Madam is staying alone. And look at the balconies,’ the broker said.

  ‘True, it is lovely,’ Riya said dreamily.

  I glared at her. She placed a hand on her mouth, as if to say ‘oops’.

  ‘Fifteen,’ I said.

  ‘This is a gora flat, sir. Foreigners like these old places. I am showing it to a firangi couple later today,’ the broker said.

  ‘We will take it. Done. Twenty,’ Riya said.

  I shrugged at Riya. She smiled at me. Rich kids think money grows like the rice in the fields of Dumraon.

  ‘This is gorgeous,’ Riya said. She took out her mobile phone and started to take pictures.

  We had come to Gol Ghar, a giant round planetarium-shaped dome located opposite Gandhi Maidan. It had been built in 1784 as a granary when the British wanted a place to store grain to be used in times of famine. I bought the two-rupee ticket for both of us.

  ‘You could have bargained. He would have agreed for eighteen thousand,’ I said.

  ‘I couldn’t let go of the place. I’m going to live there. It’s important,’ she said. She clicked a picture of the bronze plaque, which read:

  For perpetual prevention of famine in this province

  This Granary

  Completed on 20th July 1786

  We climbed the steps that took us to the top of the dome. We saw wide green fields on one side and the clamour of the city on the other.

  The dome walls were covered with paan stains, and couples’ names had been etched on the surface. Losers who think little before destroying a city’s heritage do this sort of stuff. There’s a reason why people say we Biharis are uncouth. Some people in my community work hard to earn us that tag.

  ‘If they clean this place up, it will be awesome,’ Riya said.

  ‘Yeah, the authorities don’t care,’ I said.

  ‘It’s not just the authorities. If the people cared, the authorities would care too,’ Riya said.

  I nodded. Empty cigarette packets and peanut shells lay strewn all over the step
s and on the floor.

  ‘This could be a really cool IMAX theatre.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  She told me about IMAX theatres in London; they had screens four times the normal size.

  I adjusted the heavy rucksack on my shoulder.

  ‘Books?’ she said.

  I nodded. Her yellow-and-white dupatta fluttered in the breeze.

  ‘You want to know what classes I’m taking?’ I said.

  ‘I can’t ask you again,’ she said and smiled.

  ‘English. Spoken English.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Do you really need them?’

  ‘Yes, on an urgent basis,’ I said.

  We walked down the Gol Ghar steps. I told her how the Gates Foundation people would arrive in six weeks and I had to deliver a speech.

  ‘No speech, no grant, eh?’ she said.

  I nodded and hailed an auto. ‘Maurya Complex,’ I said to the driver.

  Maurya Complex is a grey box-shaped building with retail stores on the ground level and offices on the higher floors. While the building has no character, its compound area has some of the most popular street food stalls of Patna.

  ‘Tried litti-chokha before?’ I said.

  ‘What’s that?’ she said.

  I pointed to a stall where fresh littis were being made over red-hot charcoal. The cook took a ball of dough and stuffed it with spiced chickpea powder. Flattening the ball with his fingers, he roasted the litti over the coals. Once done, he gave the litti a quick dip in desi ghee. He gave us the littis in a plate with salad, chutney and chokha.

  ‘What is chokha?’ Riya said.

  The stall-owner explained how chokha is made with tomatoes, eggplant and potatoes all mashed together and cooked with green chillies, salt and other spices.

  Riya took a bite. ‘This is unbelievable.’

  Her expression made the stall-owner’s chest swell with pride.

  ‘Like it?’ I laughed, knowing the answer.

  ‘Why don’t they have this in Delhi? All over India? The world?’ Riya said.

  ‘Bihari things are not considered cool.’

  ‘Why?’ she said, her mouth full.

  ‘It’s a poor state. Nobody wants our things, or us. Not yet, at least.’

  ‘From now on I’m eating this every day.’

  We finished our meal. I passed her tissues to wipe her hands.