Intresting

It’s been four hours since I’ve been in office and I still don’t know how to approach it. Ever since Shrey and I had started working together, he has been pestering me to take a vacation. But I’ve always turned it down as we both can’t take leave from the office at the same time.

But when Avantika left this morning, I felt like going on a vacation myself. Not really a vacation, more like an investigative journalism mission sort of thing. It sounds super cool in my head, like what those men in Hollywood movies do. I just have to find out more about this guy.

All I know is the nickname of his best friend and where he did his schooling from. I have to know more. I rub my hands together in excitement and mentally start packing my bags for a road trip. I have been waiting for the right moment. I don’t want to sound like I have an agenda in mind. I don’t want to sound stupid going on a road trip to trace a dead guy’s girlfriend.

Shrey has been busy staring at the screen for quite some time now. He is pretty good at the number-crunching stuff and handles all the accounts for us.

‘Shrey, did we make any money last month?’ I ask.

‘Yes,’ he says with a smile on his face. These days, he answers gladly whenever I ask him anything about the sales of our books.

‘So, didn’t we decide we would go on a vacation when things started to look positive? I mean, I remember you saying that.’

 ‘You asshole! I’ve been saying that for ages!’ he says and looks away from the computer screen. There is a glint in his eyes almost immediately.

‘I am not saying that I want to go. I am just saying that this is what we decided,’ I say.

‘Fuck you, man. Let’s go! Like right now,’ he says and sits on his table. It’s the kind of reaction I always expect from Shrey He always overreacts, does something dramatic and immensely cool and then says something about sex.

‘Imagine, Deb! You, me, and loads of girls! Shitloads of sex,’ he says. There comes the sex part.

‘I am engaged. And nobody is sleeping with you.’

‘I just got laid a week ago. And, for your information, I would have had that girl under my desk if it were not for your stup—’ he pauses before letting the word stupid slip away. Good for him. ‘I mean—Avantika.’

‘She was seventeen, Shrey. Grow up. Date your age, man.’

‘Grow up? That’s what! She had grown up. Didn’t I show you the picture? The cleavage one?’ He comes near and thrusts his cell phone in my face again.

‘You’re a pervert.’

‘And you’re a saint? When was the last time you talked to Avantika with your eyes not on her breasts?’

‘Avantika is my girlfriend. I can stare wherever I want to,’ I protest.

‘Blah. You’re one horny bastard yourself and you judge me for who I sleep with? Anyway, that’s not the point, Deb. Let’s go out. It’s been so long! When was the last time we went out like buddies?’

‘Umm, three years?’

‘More than that. You have been seeing that hot girlfriend of yours for five! And we haven’t gone out since. Just you and me,’ he says.

‘Just you and me? Are you wooing me? You do know that I have a dick, don’t you?’

‘Yeah, I know. A small one, at that.’ He smirks.

‘Blah.’

‘Whatever. Go home and pack. We’re leaving in two hours. My car. It’s

CNG-fitted, so our expense on petrol won’t be that much. And think of a place.’

‘I will,’ I say.

‘What’s our budget like?’ he asks.

 ‘You’re the baniya here. You decide.’

He sets us a limit at ten thousand bucks each and extra emergency cash at five thousand per person. I don’t get into his calculations. He says—just in case his calculations go wrong, we will come back when we run out of money. He tells me that the rule no. 1 of road trips is: you do everything on a shoestring budget and don’t spend a single rupee more than what’s required, even if it means sleeping on railway stations. Shrey has done a lot of backpacking around India and abroad, so he knows.

I don’t argue with him on things like these. As I said, he does things that sound cool. It comes naturally to him. Not deciding where to go while making a plan, not making a plan at all, risking a long drive on his broken- down car—cool things to do, things you only see people in movies do. Maybe he fakes his coolness. But if he does, he does a damn good job of it.

‘So? Two hours? Your place?’ he asks.

‘Sure,’ I say and we shake hands.

‘Don’t be late or I will screw you over. And you’ll be driving then.’

‘No way. I am not driving that shitty car of yours.’

‘It’s not shitty. It’s a vintage. You wouldn’t understand.’ He pulls a face. ‘I don’t want to understand. Bye now. See you then,’ I say and leave. As I drive back home in Avantika’s car, I know where we are going—

Dehradun. I feel a strange sensation when I hold the diary. I will be tracing the path of a dead man, who told me his story through these pages. I will live his life through these pages. It is exhilarating. Invasion of privacy, yes. But he is dead now! And who cares about privacy anyway? The thought that I will be at all the places where he has been and I will see the things he has written about is thrilling. For the first time in years, something other than Avantika excites me.

I pick up the diary and flip through the pages again. I realize that by now I know exactly what’s written where. For one last time, I try to find something that would lead me directly to the girl, or the dead guy, but I’m sure there is nothing.

I pack some essentials and a few toiletries in my laptop bag and leave my place. Over the years, I have learnt that taking too many clothes on a road trip doesn’t help. It’s better to buy ‘I Love India’ T-shirts along the way. Plus, with Shrey in the picture, you never know where you’ll end up, so it’s better to leave all your expensive clothes behind.

 When I walk out of my apartment, I find Shrey already waiting for me in his death-trap car, which he’d bought six months back. I had tried to dissuade him from buying the piece of scrap that he calls a car, but he didn’t listen. It’s a 1989 Jeep with worn-out door knobs and a creaky suspension. He has spent a fortune trying to restore the car, a fortune he could have invested in a really nice sedan. Somehow, he doesn’t give a shit.

I envy people who don’t think about what others think. Caring about what others think is the biggest jail one can put oneself in. Shrey has never cared; he is smiling in that rotten cage of metal, like he has already planned things that would eventually land us in trouble. I see no baggage and he smells of cheap deodorant. This is going to be a long trip.

‘So? Where to?’ he asks.

I pretend to think for a little while and say, ‘Umm ... err ... Dehradun?’ ‘Dehradun it is!’ he says, puts the car into gear. The car stutters to a start,

clouds of black smoke splutter out of the rust-eaten exhaust pipe and we are off! He doesn’t even ask why I chose Dehradun. I don’t mind that too. I wouldn’t have had an answer and I don’t want to sound crazy. Sometimes, I am just scared how little Shrey cares about things. Not a single second thought before doing anything at all. I always feel a little old and docile in his presence. Like someone who has already lived the best days of his life.

An hour passes by and he still doesn’t ask why I picked the place. Maybe he bought that I’d picked a place at random. As we leave the city behind and reach the outskirts of Delhi, a sense of calm prevails. It feels great to be away from the hustle and bustle of the city and driving in the pleasant breeze. Now I get why people go on vacations.

Within an hour of leaving work behind, I already feel rejuvenated. I am sure Shrey feels the same because he has been looking at me from time to time and smiling. Either that or he has arranged for hookers/strippers at Dehradun. We make our first stop after driving continuously for three hours. I still haven’t touched the steering wheel and I don’t want to. I just don’t trust his car. It looks like a contraption to kill people really slowly and painfully.

‘Crazy, huh?’ he says as he orders mammoth quantities of food for himself.

‘What?’

‘This trip. Finally you have managed to come out of your girlfriend’s lap and into the real world.’

 ‘Fuck you.’

We share a muted laugh. It’s like we are back to our college days. Only that our topics of discussion in college used to hover around boobs and porn, while just yesterday I found myself discussing the Indian foreign policy with him. Growing up is a painful process.

Anyway, I order conservatively from the extensive menu of dals, chicken and rotis. There are still five hours of driving left and I don’t think I would get a decent washroom for miles. But, obviously Shrey doesn’t mind. He can go with a bottle into an open field and do the needful. I feel like a woman—clean and organized—after living with a girl for the past several years. Girlfriends tend to slowly turn you into a woman. You find yourself using moisturizer and lip balm after a few days. Shrey on the other hand, is very unkempt, and almost lives like a prehistoric caveman.

‘Avantika is the reason for the vacation, isn’t it?’ he asks.

‘Are you crazy? Well ... Okay, just a little bit,’ I say and look at the car parked at a distance. My bag is still there. I feel a little insecure. There are no locks on his car and I don’t want to lose the diary.

‘You’re paranoid, Deb. Can’t you live just one day without her?’

‘It’s not that,’ I say and stuff a slice of carrot in my mouth to end the conversation. Shrey makes it sound very gay to be in love with someone. Maybe because he never found what I did with Avantika.

I try not to eat much, but the food is so delectable that I end up eating a lot. My stomach growls as we walk back to the car. The sun is about to set and the roads are getting deserted. A few taxis and a few trucks here and there. I’m a little worried as his car makes threatening noises every once in a while. Sometime later, I doze off.

‘Get up!’ Shrey barks into my ear and I get up startled. ‘Huh?’

‘We have reached,’ he says.

‘Already?’ I ask. It doesn’t look like I’ve been sleeping for long. I look at my watch and notice that it’s been four hours since we left Delhi. The drive is six hours long, but with Shrey’s car we had put our estimate at ten hours. I look around. It’s a deserted place with just one stand-alone motel. Hookers? In the middle of nowhere? I am exasperated and Shrey reads my face.

 ‘No, the car broke down,’ he says, his face smeared in grease and oil. Obviously. The car broke down.

‘Shit. Now what?’ I say. I am not shocked. I had prepared myself for it. I just hope it blows up after we leave and we have to hire a new car.

Shrey tells me that he has talked to the motel owner and he’ll arrange for a mechanic early next morning. And for the night we’ll have to stay there. I make a face but I’m not bothered. I desperately need a bed to crash into.

‘Tomorrow, 8 a.m.,’ the old man at the reception says and hands over the keys. We go up the rickety stairs of the old motel and reach our room. Everything is falling apart—the stairs, the doors, the walls. It’s a motel where truck drivers spend their nights and hence it’s at a bare minimum.

We enter the room. It stinks of sweat and alcohol. I don’t mind, though. I am too tired to care. Soon, we are both snoring in that filthy room. In the middle of the night, my slumber is broken by the sound of a few steps outside our door. The sound becomes fainter but I can’t sleep any more. I have had too much sleep already. I get up, walk around the room and I realize that I have gotten used to the stink and the filth.

I call up Avantika.

‘Reached?’ I ask.

‘Just now,’ she says.

‘Where are you staying?’

‘They have put us up in the Taj,’ she says. ‘Aha! Big corporate hot shot, eh!’

‘Just a generous client,’ she says. ‘Where are you? Reached Dehradun?’

‘Not yet. Shrey’s car broke down, so we are staying in a very filthy motel for the night. Umm ... I miss you. I wish you were here. It would have been fun.’

‘Eeks! In that filthy motel?’ she says.

‘Haan haan!’

‘Kidding, Deb. I would’ve loved to be there!’ she says. ‘Next time, it’s

just you and me? What say?’

‘How can I ever say no to that?’

She giggles on the other side of the phone. I’m sure she’s tired so I ask

her to go to sleep and disconnect the call. It’s been quite some time that Avantika and I have gone out together. The last time we went anywhere was Goa and man, was it awesome! Three days of a heady concoction of alcohol, love and lust! Incredible, legendary stuff.

 I look out from the window, reminisce about all the good times I have had with Avantika and think about whatever is going to come. I have a smile on my face. Being loved and wanted is the most amazing feeling in the world ... it’s like a whole new experience. No matter how far we try to run away from it, it only gets you closer. As they say, it’s better to have loved and lost than not have loved at all.

Even today, if Avantika walks out on me for some reason, I would only smile for whatever she has made me feel over the years ... in my heart and a little below, in my pants. Yes, I always add an unnecessary sexual comment after my love-sapped talk. It makes me feel manly and non-gay.

It’s been three hours and Shrey is still sleeping. I run out of things to do to prevent myself from getting bored. Shrey and I had decided that we wouldn’t bring laptops along, so I have nothing to do. I can’t wait to reach Dehradun. I pick up the diary. I read it for the fifth time, cover to cover. This would make a great story, I tell myself and go back to sleep.

The sun is out and we’re back on the road. This time, I am driving and it’s a torture to drive that car up the rugged slopes of the hills. The only consolation is the weather, which keeps getting cooler and nicer. How much one misses the love of his or her life is directly proportional to how good the weather is! Obviously I miss Avantika a lot right now!

‘So what do we see here?’ Shrey says as we enter Dehradun.

‘A few boarding schools,’ I say.

He looks at me with terror in his eyes and asks, ‘Why? Why would we

visit schools? We have been there and it wasn’t fun.’

‘I have always wondered what boarding schools are like.’

‘What do you mean “what boarding schools are like”? They are boarding

schools, man. Buildings, dormitories and classrooms. Why do you want to see them?’ Shrey asks.

‘Just like that.’

‘I am not fucking doing that.’

‘I never asked,’ I say and negotiate a steep hairpin bend on the rocky

road. Imperial Academy, Dehradun. That’s the reason. I can’t tell him that, though.

A little later, we enter the beautiful city of Dehradun. We check into a small, cheap hotel and Shrey says he needs to rest for a while. I am sure he has something else on his mind—girls, hookers, something.

 But I don’t have a minute to waste. I wash my face, change into fresh clothes and hire a local taxi to take me to Imperial Academy. I can barely keep my excitement hidden. The city with its narrow, winding lanes and fantastic views is breathtaking, but I have other things on my mind. For now, I just make a mental note that I have to come to this beautiful place again.

Half an hour later, I reach Imperial Academy, the biggest boarding school in Dehradun. A fake story to the guards and I am allowed to enter. My heart rate kicks up as I move beyond the humungous gates that I had seen previously on the Internet. I walk around the campus. It is huge. Lush gardens, huge buildings and big classrooms. It is nothing like the school I had gone to.

The winter holidays have started, so the place is nearly deserted. There is no one around to ask where the lists and the felicitation boards are. All the rooms and buildings are locked. I ask the sweeper who is mopping the already clean floors and he tells me that the administration staff will be there in another half an hour. I pick a spot beneath a huge tree and take out the diary from the bag. I check it again. It clearly says that RD (the dead guy) was proud that Pappu got the best all-rounder award in the year 2007. I just need to find that out and all will be solved.

I flip through the pages and every time I do that, it’s like a whole movie playing before my eyes. I have no idea what the characters look like, but I have given them faces in my head. A little later, I find a few people loitering around the corridors and opening locks. I close the diary and walk about the school campus, looking for the reception.

A few teachers pass by me and I wonder if someone knows this nameless guy from the diary. I walk around the corridors and enter the great hall where all the student photographs are hung year-wise. I look around for felicitation boards that the dead guy wrote about. There are none. I become restless and look for somebody who can tell me. I leave the room and go into the next one. Bingo! In front of me, there are about twenty huge, dark- brown boards with hundreds of names painted in white.

I check the years. 2002 ... 2003 ... 2004 ... 2005 ... 2006 ... 2007 ...

There are twenty names on each board, honouring the students for different accomplishments—Toppers, Best Dancer, Best Debater, etc. My eyes scan for the All-Rounder of the Batch.

 I start reading the names on them and there it is—Pappu, or the All- Rounder of the Batch in 2007—Piyush Makhija.

I look at it for a little while. The guy who will lead me to Ragini and finish the unfinished story of RD. But I need to know more about Piyush Makhija. I g****e the name. Nothing conclusive comes out. I look for the administration room. Luckily, there is a woman sitting at the counter.

‘Hi,’ I say. ‘I needed some information on a student.’

‘Where are you from?’ the woman asks.

‘I am from the press,’ I say and offer to give her my card. She refuses.

This trick always works.

‘What information do you need?’

‘Telephone number? Or address of a student?’

‘Name?’ she says and turns to the computer.

‘Piyush Makhija, 2007 batch,’ I say.

She types in the name and something flashes on the screen. She picks up

a pad and writes down an address and a phone number. I take that piece of paper, thank the lady at the counter and leave. As I cross the room with the boards again, I dial the number. It’s a landline number. There is an engaged tone and I’m told the number doesn’t work. I try again. Same result.

I look at the address. It’s a Haridwar address. I’ve never been to that city. And I’m sure Shrey hasn’t either. He is quite an atheist, so his going to a religious town is out of the question. I smile to myself. It seems like we just got the next destination for our road trip.

As I move out of the school with an air of victory and fulfilment, I realize that I have quite a few missed calls from Shrey. I get into a taxi and get back to the hotel as fast as I can. But as far as I know him, he would be out looking for cheap alcohol or easy women to hit on. I try my key on the lock, but the door doesn’t budge. I try it again and it doesn’t work. I wonder if Shrey is inside. I knock. No answer. I knock again. There is no answer again. I shout out, ‘SHREY!’

Yet again, there is no answer.

I look into the keyhole. It’s blocked and I can’t see anything. I hear footsteps inside. First a few, then many. They are hurried and none of them seem to be coming towards the door. I hear some more. There is someone with him. God! No! A hooker in Dehradun? I can’t say that it’s totally

 unexpected, coming from Shrey. I knock harder. Finally, I hear footsteps approach the door.

‘What the heck were you doing?’ I ask as he opens the door and I barge in. He is in his Superman-printed satin boxers.

I look around for a girl. The bed is all ruffled and there are lipstick stains all over the bed sheet. I can’t see the girl. There is a green, lacy bra at a corner of the bed. Incredibly sexy lingerie for a prostitute. It seems like if this girl is an escort, then Shrey has spent a lot on her. The door to the bathroom is closed.

‘Shrey! Even here? Where did you buy her?’

‘Buy? I didn’t buy anybody!’

Soon, my questions are answered as the bathroom door opens and I see

the girl to whom the lacy lingerie belongs. She is the girl from that night! Tiya—the seventeen-year-old. Damn. The girl who kept me from getting laid that night. Oh, I hate her. Life’s short and every opportunity lost to make out with Avantika spells catastrophe. One of the big reasons why I got engaged was to avoid taking Avantika’s permission before taking her clothes off. So if a girl spoils one making-out opportunity, she is taking away one reason to be alive from me. It’s unpardonable.

‘What are you doing here?’ I exclaim as I see her. She is wrapped in a white bed sheet. I’m pretty sure she’s naked underneath.

‘It’s my birthday,’ she says dispassionately.

‘Let her at least get dressed,’ Shrey says. The girl gathers her skimpy clothes from around the room and disappears behind the washroom door. I look at Shrey and I just don’t know what to say. He looks at me like a pet that has pooped in the living room. He’s guilty, but his face says he couldn’t help it.

‘What the hell, Shrey?’

‘In my defence—she turned eighteen last night!’ he says.

‘But what the fuck is she doing here?’

‘She missed me. I told her I was going to Dehradun and she landed here!

I didn’t know she’d come,’ he defends himself.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ I say.

‘Well, I just told her that I wished she were with me on her birthday. I

didn’t know she would actually come. I said it without any intention of calling her here. You know how I wanted this trip to be just you and me.’

‘Screw you, man. You’re such a pervert,’ I say.

 ‘Me? I caught you with a picture of Avantika in your cell phone in the office washroom.’

‘Firstly I wasn’t doing anything and secondly even if I was, she is my fiancée. I am allowed that.’

‘And Tiya is eighteen. I am allowed what you are,’ he says and lights a cigarette.

I sense that there is no point in having that conversation. I sit on the bed and wait for the girl to come out. I am not angry at Shrey any more. Tiya is eighteen; she is allowed to have frenzied hormones and wear lacy lingerie.

We all have been eighteen at some point in our lives. Avantika and I could barely keep our hands off each other for a good part of the first three years. Those were some crazy days. We’re not proud of the kinky things we did ... umm ... Naah, we are!

Avantika is a lot less horny now. She is more into vegetables. I mean that in a very non-kinky way. Ever since we’ve moved in together, all she cares about is where she can find the best vegetables and get me fatter.

Finally Tiya comes out. I have to admit that in my head I forgive Shrey Tiya is too young to be this hot. She is in an off-shoulder top and a pair of stockings and she looks stunning. She goes and sits where Shrey is. Shrey passes on the cigarette to her and she takes a long puff. Crazed hormones and sky-high confidence is a very heady mixture.

‘I’m eighteen,’ she clarifies before I can say anything.

‘And your parents know where you are?’

‘Stop being such a grandfather, Deb,’ Shrey interrupts.

‘Did your parents know everything about Avantika from the start? Your

night outs? Your wild sexual escapades?’ she asks me with an evil grin on her face.

I look at Shrey and he says, ‘I told her everything.’

‘Whatever.’

I have nothing to say. I see the two of them kiss and I miss Avantika. She

is definitely hotter. And a better kisser too. Huh.

‘By the way, Happy Birthday Tiya,’ I say.

‘Birthday? Whose birthday? Ohh! That was just a way to make Shrey

miss me.’

‘What?’ we echo.

‘Nah, just kidding. It is my birthday. So, thank you.’ She smiles at me.

Tiya is a little too cocky for my taste and her age. Shrey and Tiya kiss again

 and I begin to feel a little uncomfortable. There is no space for a girl on our road trip. This is just wrong. I tell them that I have a long phone call to make and I leave the room. I see the door close behind me. Shrey is going to make out and that makes me jealous.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ I call up Avantika and ask.

‘Nothing much. You tell me. You’re on a road trip, not me. Missing me much?’

‘A lot.’

Aha. Shrey isn’t interesting enough?’ she teases.

‘He is busy making out,’ I say. ‘Tiya,’ I add after a pause.

‘What?’

‘It’s her birthday today. She turned eighteen and came over.’

‘But! I thought they don’t talk,’ Avantika says.

‘Seems like they do,’ I say.

Avantika sounds pissed off. She hangs up to call Shrey who doesn’t

pickup. Avantika calls me back and tells me that Shrey is an asshole and I should tell him that. She tells me that I’m responsible for it too and disconnects the call in anger. It’s not my fault, but I still send her a text saying I am sorry and I will try to be better.

I again have nothing to do. I don’t know how long Shrey would keep on with that kid in the room. I walk the streets of Dehradun, clutching the diary of the dead man. I finally have a lead, and I feel good about it. Who knows? Maybe I’m just a phone call away from getting to Ragini and well ...

5 October 2010

‘If there is one truth that could make the person you love never talk to you again, would you tell him or her? I would rather not.’

This time every year, I am haunted. I feel like a monster today. I don’t want to go to college. I would like to keep myself away from her. At least today, I want to be miles away from her.

I am a different person now, but the day still haunts me. I was in ninth grade and things were going good for me. I had always been good in studies, but those days, I had my growth spurt and I was one of the biggest guys in class. I was still seen as the guy who had attacked three seniors and the respect for me was intact. But as I grew taller and stronger, I became a bit of a bully. No one questioned me and what I said had to happen. All teachers were big fans of mine and used to disregard any complaints against me because I scored well.

Slowly and steadily, all the arrogance turned into anger. I used to be furious all the time and made quite a few enemies. I was used to being alone and enraged. The summer of that year, I went back home for my vacations. My parents noted a change in me, but as it always happens, if you’re scoring well, no one cares. They gave me their old car to drive around during the vacations. I met all my old friends and, needless to say, they were

all impressed. I was taller, smarter, lived in boarding school and drove a car. That day we were all at a friend’s place and he had bought an entire bottle of vodka. None of us had tasted it before.

I, being the man amongst them, took the initiative and gulped down the contents of my glass. It was terrible, but I didn’t let it show. A little later, a few of them started puking and we had to stop drinking.

I left his place because Mom kept calling incessantly and wanted me to come home as soon as possible. As I put the car into gear, I could feel that something wrong was going to happen, even though my house was barely a five-minute-drive away. The images had blurred. The road looked like a wavy black river. As I drove, a truck kept honking and flashing its lights behind me. The horn was irritating and I decided not to let him pass. Seconds later, the truck and I were racing, and trying to leave each other behind.

A few kilometres down the road, there was a blind turn. Both of us had slammed on our brakes and turned sharply. I had noticed that there was a man at a distance standing in the middle of the road. He would jump out to safety, I had assumed. Three seconds later, the man had frozen in front of our headlights. He didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to stop and be defeated. I pushed the pedal all the way down and whizzed ahead of the truck. Seeing me come faster at him, the man jumped out of my way and right in front of the truck. The truck driver didn’t want to be beaten either. The man was crushed under the wheels of the truck.

I looked in the rear-view mirror. The truck had stopped. The driver got off the truck. He looked around, panicked, held his head in despair, got back into his truck, and drove away in a mad frenzy. I drove back home. I didn’t even go and see if the man was dead. I was scared. I was fifteen. I had killed a man ... I was a monster. I thought no one saw me that day. I was wrong.

God saw everything that had happened and punished me in equal measure when I first met Nivedita, a few months after that day. What happened to her is totally my fault. Ragini will never know this. I will never tell her. She is a gentle soul and I don’t think she will ever talk to me if I tell her this.

I wish I can see her tomorrow. I wish she doesn’t see the monster in me.

17 October 2010

‘It’s amazing how promises like “I will be there” are made and broken in a matter of days. For me, though, promises are meant to last forever.’

I have not dated in a very long time. Unless I am in love, I see no point in dating. I am not dating Ragini, but I am certainly in love with her. We had gone out today. For the first time we had met somewhere outside college. She asked me if I drink and if I had ever tried it. I shook my head and told her that she shouldn’t try it either.

I have never tried a drink since that day. No matter what happens, I stay away from it. But Ragini wanted to try it today and I shot it down. Seeing her face droop made me regret that day even more. There is no such thing as drinking responsibly. The moment the first drop of alcohol enters your bloodstream ... I have seen what can happen, and I will never be a part of that again.

Ragini’s fascination with my days in boarding school has not died down and she asked about my schooldays even more today. I told her about Pappu and our days in the football team. Ragini asked who was a better player and I said Pappu. He was way better than me, but since I was the more aggressive one, I was made the team captain. Though we always won matches because of him.

I can’t really say when we drifted apart. I guess he had problems with me being chosen as the captain. And I used to be a little jealous that he always scored well. Also, he was

 

the better-looking guy, scored better marks and was everyone’s hero. He was revered in our school and by the girls from the boarding schools nearby whereas I was just an angry bully who was somehow good academically.

Ragini asked me to call Pappu and mend things with him. But it has been five years now and we haven’t talked. And I don’t think we would. I can’t call him. He must have even forgotten me. But I have not. I don’t know why I am talking about all this. I should concentrate on better things. Ragini. I love the way she rests her chin on her knuckles a