Page 83 - The World's Best Boyfriend

21

‘I understand. Now if you don’t mind I have some work to do,’ said Prof. Mitra

who assured her he knew that she wasn’t at fault.
‘Goodnight, Sir.’
Despite the undiluted praise heaped on Aranya for conducting a perfect
Freshers’ Day with all but one unruly incident, Aranya sat there, on the stairs of

the training and placement department, staring blankly at the boys and girls
dancing, for whom the incident was just a blip, something they would forget,

maybe joke about later, but she was crying.
‘Care for a drink?’ a voice said from behind.
‘Go away,’ she said without looking.
The man sat next to her. What he carried in his right hand was a curiously

shaped bottle, Vodka she guessed, and two plastic glasses and orange juice in a
tetrapack in the left. He looked straight ahead at the students dancing, the strobe

lights, the eager young men and the shy young women, the madness.
He poured what looked like a lot of vodka in one and kept it aside. He filled
the next with orange juice and offered it to Aranya who readily accepted it.
Having now recognized the man, she was finding it tough to not fling herself in

his direction.
‘I got your mails and the notes you slipped into my room,’ he said.

Aranya hyperventilated. ‘I’m sorry, Professor Raghuvir.’ Aranya wiped her
face into her sleeve leaving her snot on it. She smiled like a silly schoolgirl. He
was handsomer than the pictures in the newspapers. At once she was jealous of

all the female reporters who got him to pose.
‘There’s no need to be sorry. It’s always good to hear from serious students.’
The professor smiled. There was something very Christian Grey about him. Like

a young, toned-down, sane, cute, not a psychopath, Christian Grey.
‘It must be tough to be perfect all the time, isn’t it?’ Prof. Raghuvir asked and
whipped out a cigarette. Not like a boy, but a man, experience and habit

reflecting in his jagged, swift moves. He could kill a puppy right now and still
look gorgeous.
‘. . .’

‘You did a good job though,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t cry about it. Accidents