Page 97 - Half Girlfriend

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We walked out to her car. She handed her driver a fifty-rupee note.
‘Driver bhaiya, can you go and buy a few packets of Parle-G

biscuits for me, please?’
The driver looked puzzled.

‘Madam, we will buy it on the way?’
‘No, go now. Leave the keys. I’ll wait inside’

The confused driver handed the keys to Riya and left.

Riya and I sat in the backseat of her BMW. A fat armrest separated
us. She switched on the reading light and slipped her feet out of her

shoes. Turning side-ways, she leaned back against the window to face
me. She tucked her feet under her legs on the seat.

I sat stiffly. The BMW reminded me how out of place I was in her
world.

‘So?’ Riya said.
‘You were really great on stage. And congrats on winning the

English vocals.’
‘Oh, thank you. That’s nice of you, Madhav, to congratulate me.’

‘Amazing show,’ I said, clearing my throat.
‘Thanks. Is that all you wanted to say to me?’

I shook my head. I hated it when she adopted this formal tone.
‘So let’s skip the small talk. Say what you want to.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Have heard it a million times from you.’
‘Forgive me.’

‘I have forgiven you. I have also moved on. It’s past. It’s over. So,
that’s it?’

I looked into her eyes. In the dim reading light of the BMW, I
could not spot any emotion on her face. I felt weak in her presence.

I fought back tears.
‘I want us to be friends again,’ I said.

‘Why?’ she said, her voice as cold as Delhi’s foggy winter night.