Half Boyfriend

by Judy Balan, Kishore Manohar

  He walked off into the night expertly spinning the ball on his little finger.

  As they rounded a corner, Ozone stopped and was immediately in the middle of a mop-up operation. Literally. Once the team cleaned him up and he was the President once again, BO picked up his phone and punched in a number.

  ‘It’s done. Finish up your toilet work and let’s get the hell out of this madness. I do have a country to run, you know!’

  At the other end of the connection, Paul was grinning from ear to ear. Looked like whatever mess the President was in had been sorted out and life could go back to normal now. This also meant that Bill’s visit was now hundred percent legit.

  29

  Short Version: The heroine has a choice. But she’s going to choose the road that fulfils the ancient prophecy. Because astrologers are never wrong.

  The Somanys were not a flashy set of people. Papa Somany was from St Stephens and had played basketball in his time. He now ran several businesses and was helped by Mrs Somany. She had finished her Bachelor’s degree (a rather sexist term that no one gets agitated about) at Lady Shriram College for Women and had gone on to do her Master’s but an unfortunate bike accident had prevented her from writing her final exams. One thing led to another and she never went back to college. In fact, it was during her rehab in hospital that she met Ajay Somany attending to a friend of his on the same floor. It was love at first sight. When he walked up to her after they had exchanged a dozen glances across the corridors of AIIMS, and introduced himself as Ajay Somany she had in turn introduced herself as Mrs Somany. The rest was history.

  One of the power couples of the capital, they were very protective of their one and only Rhea. At least five inspectors in Delhi had been transferred for not ‘protecting’ the interests of Lil Somany. There was nothing they couldn’t get done in Delhi so naturally when Rhea wanted to come back she knew that asking them was the last thing she could do.

  She was still on a journey of self-discovery and semi-escape. London had been good. In fact it was bloody fantastic. The last three years had gradually helped her forget the scars of the three years before that. The fights, the millions of ‘missed calls’ on her phone when she woke up, the steady bombardment on all her social media accounts whenever there was a fight, the chauvinistic comments and of course the bovine presents … all this pain that Manav had caused her was now a blur. Only the happy times remained. And they too would have disappeared had her life not been infested with Manavitis: a rare condition that causes the inflicted to see Manav everywhere.

  ‘Is that him?’ Amy whispered, as they walked by the river. Rhea turned in time to see a guy get into a bus. His eyes as the bus pulled away were hauntingly familiar but she could not be sure. What was reassuring was that even Amy was seeing Manavs. Like the other day when a car almost ran them over and when the driver looked at them, Amy actually called out, ‘Manav!’

  ‘What are coincidences and how are they created?’ asked Rhea.

  A coincidence is a remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances which have no apparent causal connection with each other. The perception of remarkable coincidences may lead to supernatural, occult, or paranormal claims, replied Wikipedia on Rhea’s phone.

  ‘Black magic!’ chorused both the girls. They were referring to the sudden appearance of these tiny little pouches filled with a strange potpourri of goat’s hair, perfectly cracked black eggs, camphor, lime, and some small beads. The girls were quite sure this was magic but the connection to the coincidences was now becoming apparent. Could it be that they were under a hex? A Manav hex!

  ‘I need to go back, darling,’ said Rhea, pensively kicking stones down the road.

  ‘Don’t say go back and darling in the same breath, you bitch,’ said Amy affectionately. ‘You can’t leave me here alone with the crazy bags and all these Manavs.’

  ‘Then come with me,’ said Rhea, ending the conversation. Amy was banned from coming home till she removed the various rings on her eyebrows, top of ears, and belly button. And Amy? Well, she was as attached to her rings as they were to her. So there was no going back for her. Rhea was alone this time.

  ‘But where will you go?’ whined Amy. ‘I can’t think of being here alone and then dealing with the time difference when I need to talk to you.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Rhea pouting for a selfie. ‘But I do know that I need some real men. All these ‘cool dudes’ are fun and even the sex is awesome but they don’t really need me. I love the freedom here but I miss home. I miss being special just because I spoke correct English or drove a fancy car. Here everyone speaks correct English—it’s no big deal.’

  ‘You say men but you mean man … man-av,’ joked Amy and ran away as Rhea tried to mock-punch her. She collided into a desi family tourist group and Rhea ran into the ensuing chaos too. There was more giggling. And some insincere apologies from the girls to the family who were just happy to see some English-speaking Indian girls. Some more selfies with the desi family. And then the conversation went back to India.

  ‘Actually I have been working on something,’ said Rhea and showed Amy the email.

  Nestle had sent her a job offer.

  ‘Product manager for Maggi Noodles, Patna,’ read out Amy. ‘Wow! That’s quite a big deal. What do you know about product management?’

  Rhea grinned mysteriously. She certainly could not let Amy know that her new BFF had swung it for her when she called him with this request. Actually she had just asked for a job in Pune. He was the one who suggested Nestle in Patna because they were going to get into a lot of trouble for their global practices and desperately wanted to make friends. A job for one of the friends of the President of the USA was hardly a problem in this environment.

  ‘I might switch to sales. And maybe not Maggi—I’ve been advised that it’s a short-term scene. I’m thinking Youghurt.’

  Amy looked at her in awe. The seemingly airheaded, flaky girl who had waltzed in crying because of her stalker ex was now a confident progressive young lady with a clear career focus and some pretty serious advisors by the sound of it.

  ‘And once I’m in Patna, I can always drop in at Delhi and see how the basketball team is doing. Maybe I’ll even see my old friend Manav,’ added Rhea, destroying the detailed independent-girl image that Amy had just built up.

  The future looked foggy.

  30

  Short Version: A stalkee, a stalker and the stalker’s stalkers go to Patna.

  The evil queen was beginning to seriously suspect that her son was up to no good and locking her out of it quite intentionally. He had come up with the lamest of all excuses to go to Patna every weekend. ‘If I have to make a speech for Mr Gates, then I have to take English classes,’ he had said. That would have made sense if not for the fact that Manav was extremely comfortable and even proud of his half-baked English. He believed it was the language of the common man and as the man commonly known as Prince, he wanted nothing more than for people to see him as one of them. In fact, he was suspicious of anyone who spoke better than average English—all except one, of course. Rhea, Patron Saint of Losers. She could do no harm. Sure, she had dropped out of college and orchestrated a wedding just to get away from him and he had to learn all about the fake marriage from the bodyguard of the most powerful man in the world, but that was only because she didn’t know any better—something all pretty women were guilty of, apparently. But that was all in the past. He was about to be reunited with his one true love over another accidental run-in in Patna and that was all he was going to think about.

  ‘Search his room, steal his phone, follow him if you have to. I need to know exactly what he’s up to,’ the queen ordered her minions. She couldn’t believe it had come to this but her gut was never wrong when it came to her son and of late, she couldn’t shake off the painful suspicion that Rhea had never really left. Her stomach churned at the thought of her son bringing a Delhi brat into her palace and giving her the glad tidings of how his love
had conquered all. No, she couldn’t let it happen. No woman was good enough to be queen and certainly not worthy of her son. But she knew exactly how obsessive Manav could get. It was the one trait he had inherited from her. So she had to be clever about this. She couldn’t let Manav suspect that she had ever been anything less than overjoyed at the thought of him marrying Rhea.

  ‘But be discreet,’ she cautioned her minions. ‘It is extremely important that Manav never finds out.’

  Rhea was understandably overwrought as she made her way out of the Patna airport to her hotel. What was she doing? Why was she here? Had she really abandoned her next-to-perfect life in London because of a few … signs? She felt like the heroine of her favourite movie, Serendipity. ‘Maybe that’s what’s subconsciously influenced me,’ she found herself thinking but was distracted by a panipuri cart so she stopped the cab and her stream of thought to grab a bite of her favourite Indian snack. It had been so hard to find in London and when she finally did, her white friends had described the experience as ‘a mouthful of acid’ and couldn’t get just how she could have not one but five of those atomic bombs in one go.

  ‘Ohhh … mmmmm,’ Rhea was so busy having a foodgasm much to the delight of the panipuri guy, that she didn’t notice the once-familiar sound of a temple elephant passing by. In fact, it wasn’t until the elephant stopped right behind her and ‘blessed’ her with his trunk that she even realized she had an audience. Had she really been that loud? How embarrassing. But there was no time to ponder on the soft porn commercial she had accidentally starred in. There was an elephant! And it was blessing her! This was all a touch too much to process. Who knows? Maybe there was a reason she had watched Serendipity 437 times. Maybe the universe was trying to tell her something.

  Of course, the elephant was Manav’s doing (as was the panipuri) and having watched Serendipity 42 times with her out of the 437, he was well aware of the fact that she subconsciously subscribed to that theory. In fact, he had even wanted to stretch the elephant theme all the way to the hotel but didn’t want it to look suspicious. After all, she was in his hood, broadly, and the last thing he wanted was for her to find out he had anything to do with this. Also, he really didn’t want to burst her Serendipity bubble.

  ‘Maybe I should just go with the signs and hope they lead me somewhere,’ Rhea said to herself as she placed a panipuri in the elephant’s trunk. He seemed to love it. Rhea smiled. ‘It’s good to be back,’ she said to herself.

  A few yards behind her, inside a car with heavily tinted glasses sat our hero looking every bit like a shady 80s villain, watching on and smiling to himself. ‘Welcome back,’ he said in a creepy voice. ‘I’ve missed you.’

  And a few yards behind our hero, the queen’s minions sat in a similarly tinted van giving her running commentary on the unfolding romance.

  31

  Short Version: Our heroine is conflicted: does she believe in signs or her gut? Also, what does the President think?

  Manav had waited a long time for this moment and he wanted to get it right. So the entire twelve hours that Rhea spent indulging her jet lag after checking into the hotel, Manav rehearsed his fake run-in with the hotel staff who—as it turned out—were huge suckers for a real-life Bollyromance. All it took was an emo-narration of the story for them to offer to help him. And within minutes he had all the details—her number, the duration of her stay, right down to the last detail of her itinerary. He didn’t even have to abuse his princely powers.

  ‘Okay, are you ready?’ Manav whispered to the receptionist one last time.

  ‘Yes,’ said the giggly young thing. ‘I know exactly what I’m supposed to do.’

  So when Rhea made her way down the elevator at 4:15 pm, Manav sat reading the newspaper with his back strategically facing her. The receptionist gave the green light to a waiter who held a tray with a glass of Coke (to recreate one of Manav’s fake run-ins from college) and had rehearsed the scene about 37 times to get it right. Within seconds, there was a clash, a spillage and a loud cussing session that lasted fifteen whole seconds and had the entire lobby’s attention. Manav grinned to himself before he turned around just in time for his dramatic entry.

  ‘Oh my God, Rhea?’ he said. The rehearsals had clearly paid off going by the flabbergasted look on Rhea’s face. ‘Rhea?’ Manav said again because she wasn’t responding. Instead, she continued staring at him in suspended animation looking like she was having a near-death experience of some sort.

  ‘This cant bereal This cant be happening How could this be I feel like I m going crazy Oh my god Whats happening …’ Rhea couldn’t stop the onrush of emotions. She couldn’t tell if she was awestruck by all the synchronicities the universe was sending her way, or simply too freaked out to speak.

  ‘Manav,’ she said finally. ‘It’s really you …’

  Manav grinned stupidly. ‘It’s really me,’ he said and took the opportunity to throw his arms around her. The hug lasted longer than acceptable PDA limits in a city like Patna, so it wasn’t until the hotel staff started to applaud that the two realized they had company.

  ‘Crap,’ Rhea muttered jolting into reality. ‘Do you want to go get a coffee or something? I think we have a lot of catching up to do.’

  ‘Of course,’ smiled Manav. He had never been more excited to hear all about everything he already knew.

  It took a while for the strangeness of it all to subside but Rhea was finally starting to feel like herself.

  ‘Enough about me, tell me about you,’ said Manav after they had finished their third coffee.

  ‘Tell me what’s been happening in your life,’ Rhea corrected. ‘See? Maybe you should ditch that English class and let me help you,’ she laughed. It put Manav under that familiar spell.

  ‘Maybe you should,’ he said. This had worked out even better than he had imagined. ‘So. Tell me what’s been happening with you,’ he said.

  ‘Much better,’ Rhea smiled. ‘And well, lots. London was awesome, I’ve been studying music, meeting a lot of interesting people and basically, living it up.’

  ‘Wow. How is Ro?’

  Rhea’s face wilted at that. How was Ro? She had completely ditched the guy—the one guy who had stood by her nearly all her life and all it took was one goof-up for her to walk away from him. For good. But then again, there was no excuse for what he had done. Or almost done. And she had no idea what she was doing here with her ex half boyfriend discussing her fake husband. This was too complicated even for 2015.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about that,’ she sighed.

  ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry,’ said Manav with rehearsed ease.

  ‘Oh, I’m not divorced or anything,’ Rhea said almost reflexively. While she had no plans of going back to her fake marriage, there was a part of her that simply couldn’t come to terms with the fact that her life in London was now in the past. She was back here. In India … in Patna! And a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder if this really was all the bright and shiny future the universe had in store for her.

  ‘Hellooooo?’ Manav snapped his finger to shake Rhea out of her own head.

  ‘Sorry,’ Rhea said looking somewhat overwhelmed. ‘I suppose I’m just tired,’ she lied.

  Manav was disappointed. He had been hoping to pull an all-nighter and get his money’s worth from the 24-hour coffee shop but they had only been there a couple of hours. ‘Of course. You should get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow?’ He was the prince of poise.

  ‘Okay,’ Rhea smiled. She could tell she had disappointed him but she found it adorable that he was trying so hard to do the manly thing. There was definitely some residual feelings still left to be explored here, she conceded. After all, it was her destiny to care for losers. But never mind all that. What she needed now was a good old-fashioned midnight chat with her BFF from across the shore to give her some much-needed perspective on this situation.

  ‘Rhea?’ The President sounded anxious. He had been having a bad case of the Conscien
ce ever since he had handed her over to that uncouth excuse for royalty. He had only known her a short while but she had grown on him and he had come to adore her naïve-little-girl-trying-to-live-it-up disposition. What if the bastard had kept her locked up in a basement somewhere doing unspeakable things? How could he live with that? The thoughts had plagued him every second since Operation Grass Stopper had been executed.

  ‘Heyyy,’ said a gleeful Rhea.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ asked the President. ‘I’ve been thinking about you.’ The First Lady stirred in her sleep. He had to cut this short. ‘I have to go soon though,’ he whispered.

  ‘Okay, and yes, I’m alright but I just have to tell you this,’ Rhea said quickly. ‘You were right. You were right about everything. The dream was in fact a sign because I bumped into the person it was speaking to me about.’

  ‘That’s good, then.’ At least he wasn’t keeping her in a basement. Yet.

  ‘No, but that’s the thing,’ gasped Rhea. ‘I can’t help but feel that something is off. I mean, all the signs are there. But I just feel like something is very, very wrong.’ There was silence at the other end as the President wrestled with the familiar pangs of guilt on the one hand and the very real fear of The First Lady waking up any second. Rhea sighed long and hard. ‘Maybe it’s just me. I’m overthinking it. I should learn to trust people more. Heck, I should trust the universe more …’ By now, the guilt cut like a knife. He was the one who had fed her all this crap about dream interpretation and destiny and she had lapped it all up! How could he do this to her?

  ‘Say something Say something Say something Now,’ his head urged him.

  ‘Anyway, thanks for listening. I’ll let you go now,’ Rhea said.