It had been weeks since Manav had got Rhea to see him for the prince and hero that he was, but nothing had changed. Well, not dramatically anyway. He had expected her to run into his arms and beg him to take her away from everything—her wealthy, cruel family (because those two always went together), her asshole boyfriend whom her family was pressurizing her to marry, her judgmental friends, even that pointless degree in literature. After all, he knew that Rhea’s biggest dream was to sing. At a bar. In New York. She had told him herself over the last few weeks. She had grown really close to him and in full public view at that. Kiran, Ro and her other friends hadn’t been pleased about it but Rhea had stood up for him to the point of avoiding both Kiran and Ro. And now, as her prince, he was going to make her dreams come true—if she’d only let him. Of course, after a couple of months of pursuing said dreams in New York, he’d convince her that this was just a childish phase waiting to be outgrown and that her true home was with him and his mother. In the village. Because as the saying went in his village, ‘Behind every successful village girl was a man telling her that the curry was too salty.’
Manav was troubled by the pace at which things were progressing. His sidekicks seemed to think that Rhea was just stringing him along. ‘Having her cake and eating it too,’ they said.
After much elaboration, he had come to understand that the cake she was ‘having’ was him and the cake she was ‘eating’ was Ro. This was a disturbing analogy for Manav who had never heard this expression before. It was putting images in his head that he couldn’t get rid of. First, the flower and now, the cake—this had to stop.
‘Just ask her what her deal is,’ Akbar suggested.
‘Oh, now you’re being helpful?’ Anthony said to Akbar. ‘Careful, Manav, he only gives advice. When the time comes for following through, he’ll just let you jump off mango trees and pretend he doesn’t know you.’
‘That was so not what happened,’ Akbar raised his voice.
‘Are you calling me a liar?’ Anthony raised his fist.
‘Guys, guys!’ Manav stood between the two. ‘Now is not the time. Can we please stick together and come up with a plan?’
The guys sighed. ‘Have you tried having an honest conversation with her about this?’ As always, Amar was the only one who was even vaguely on the side of reason.
‘Yes,’ said Manav.
‘And?’ they asked him in unison.
‘She said I’m her friend but also more than that. But I’m not her boyfriend.’ Manav paused as he took in the confusion on his friends’ faces. Clearly, they weren’t familiar with the compromise Rhea had suggested. ‘She said I’m her half boyfriend.’
‘Her WHAT?’ sputtered Anthony. ‘What the hell is a half boyfriend?’
‘Yeah, Manav, that’s not a thing,’ Akbar added.
‘Manav, I didn’t think I’d be saying this but it’s possible she’s just stringing you along like they say. I mean, Half Boyfriend is not a relationship status, dude. Or Facebook would have had it!’ Amar looked distressed. He hated not seeing the good in people.
Manav felt humiliated. She had played him. ‘Or maybe not,’ said the universe.
‘Please, you heard them,’ said Manav.
‘Right, and now that the relationship experts have said it, it has to be true,’ said the universe. ‘If you really believe them, confront her! But give her a chance. Don’t act on your assumptions,’ said the universe.
It seemed fair.
‘You lied to me!’ said Manav as he joined Rhea for a game of basketball. It was their happy place. They could say anything here and it would be okay.
‘What?’ said Rhea as she kept her eyes on the ball. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘There’s no such thing as a half boyfriend and you know it.’ Manav dodged her every move, keeping the ball away from her.
‘What do you mean there is no such thing? I’m saying it’s a thing. Our thing,’ she said. Manav had had enough of this bullshit. Rhea always added ‘our’ and an ‘a’ before something silly and usually non-existent to get out of a real commitment. Our kinda date. Our type-a dinner. Our style-a whale watching. It was insulting and patronizing and it was about to stop now.
‘Fine, so what rights does a half boyfriend get?’ he said coolly, as he shot the ball right into the hoop.
‘Rights? What do you mean rights?’ Rhea collected the ball on the rebound and looked up.
‘Like rights to do this,’ Manav leapt across the court and grabbed Rhea and kissed her while balancing the ball between their tummies.
For a few seconds, it seemed like she was into the kiss but then, she pushed him away. ‘Manav! What are you doing?’
‘I’m doing half relationship things!’ he said.
Rhea sighed in exasperation. ‘I think we need to chill for a while.’
‘Chill?’
‘Yes! Take a beat. Simmer down,’ Rhea explained.
‘And?’ Manav was officially clueless about what was going on here. ‘Are you half-breaking-up with me?’
Rhea smiled. ‘No, I’m not,’ she said sincerely. ‘I just need some time. Alone. Can you give me that?’
Manav considered this. He knew what it was like to need alone time. Back in the village, everyone wanted his time just like everyone here wanted a piece of Rhea. It was exhausting and thankless. ‘Yes, of course,’ he smiled gently. After all, it would take a prince to understand the constant demands on one’s time and luckily for her, he was one.
8
Short Version: The hero calls his mother, the evil queen, to give her the glad tidings of his progress with the girl but she has other plans, apparently.
‘Maaaa,’ Manav gasped excitedly into the phone. He couldn’t wait to tell his mother all about how he had let Rhea see the prince in him.
‘Betuuuuu, my chotuuuuuuu, how are youuuuu,’ she cooed affectionately. There was equal reciprocation from Manav’s end so we shall skip the first seven minutes of the call.
‘Ma, I did it!’ Manav said. ‘I think she finally sees me for who I am.’
‘I never doubted that,’ his mother said tentatively. The truth was, she had been counting on Manav’s complete lack of charm, tact and basic social skills to get rid of this girl but now it looked like she had to take matters into her own hands. ‘Tell me the whole story though.’
‘Actually, I have to run now,’ said Manav. ‘I’m going out to celebrate with the boys. But you were right, Ma. I just had to be patient and show her who I really was—a prince!’
The mater rolled her eyes at the other end. She couldn’t wait for him to get to the point. What exactly was going on? Had Rhea said she’d marry him? How far had this progressed? How she wished he’d skip the dumb mushy details and get to the plot twist already. ‘Okay, okay, but tell me this—am I getting a daughter-in-law anytime soon?’ She gritted her teeth.
Manav took a deep breath. ‘Yes!’ he said gleefully. ‘She’s asked for some time but I know it. She’s on the verge of saying yes. I know I’ve won her heart, Ma.’
‘Oh, then it’s time for me to do my part,’ she said smiling her best villainous smile into the phone in her other hand that was taking a selfie. She could do things like that.
‘What part?’ said Manav. ‘What can you do?’
‘It’s nothing son, just want you to be happy,’ she said cryptically.
Manav wasn’t sure what she meant but he didn’t make much of it. She was probably headed to the family astrologer to confirm if Rhea really was The One. Or headed to the temple to make a generous donation. Or off to sacrifice twenty-one goats for the entire village in celebration. Dear old mommy. She just couldn’t help herself.
‘Fine,’ Manav said and it was loaded with affection. ‘Just try not to go overboard.’
‘I’ll try.’ She hung up the phone, took slow but deliberate strides towards the large ornate mirror on the wall and smiled her signature diabolical smile once again.
[Cue for director adapting this
into major Bollywood hit: This is where the suspenseful music plays and we see the mother going about her diabolical plan.]
9
Short Version: The hero gets ready to go to the heroine’s birthday party (yes, you can skip this chapter if you want to).
It was a busy day for Aurangazeb Road. Special traffic police were in place to manage the manic flow of traffic, thanks to Rhea Somany’s birthday. It had always been a much-looked-forward-to event for the city’s Page 3 hoggers but this year was particularly chaotic thanks to Rhea’s growing fan club at college. The enthusiasm was nothing short of feverish with everyone waiting to see if they had been invited—if they had officially made it into the ‘it’ crowd. It was a lot like the IIT entrance results except for the parental approval part. So it definitely was a big deal. Rhea Somany had invited Manav Jha for her party.
Yes, it was a game-changer. Not just for the average loser who wanted to be friends with the popular girl but for every guy aiming way above his league. It was breaking news at college and the cafeteria was abuzz with excitement as Manav and his semi-circle of boys made a triumphant entry. Of course, not everyone was happy. Some were outraged at the injustice of it all—how did this non-city bumpkin who couldn’t construct a single good sentence in English get to go when there were clearly so many people who were so much more deserving of the honour. People whose friends had not fallen off mango trees into Rhea’s garden while creepily spying on her with pretend binoculars, for example. It was just wrong. And then of course, there was Kiran. She had been downright suspicious of Manav from day one but now she was downright convinced that there was a dodgy scheme involving her precious Rhea and that Evil Manav was orchestrating the whole thing. Just how on earth did a guy like that manage to get invited to a party like this? It was true that Rhea cared about losers. But she cared about them in the same way that she cared about stray puppies. She rescued them and handed them over to people who wanted to adopt them, never keeping them for herself. She was more of a Shih-Tzu-wearing-designer-shoes kind of girl. And Manav Jha was no Shih Tzu.
Kiran watched Manav standing across the room basking in the glory. ‘Whatever you’re up to,’ she said to herself, ‘I’m going to find out and I’m going to break your smug face for it.’
But after a few minutes, she decided that sharing her suspicions with Ro and Rhea’s parents would be a more pragmatic step towards getting rid of Manav than making threats to herself about breaking his face. Besides, his sidekicks weren’t invited so she couldn’t wait to see Manav holding his own at the party. Maybe it would be entertaining, she told herself and made her way out of the cafeteria.
At four o’clock, Manav was busy getting into his overwrought sherwani at his mother’s suggestion. She had actually asked him to go for the turban and horse as well but Manav had had the good sense to laugh at that.
‘What the hell are you wearing?’ Akbar burst into the room followed by the other two.
‘What?’ said Manav. He was expecting a reaction on the lines of ‘It’s going to be extremely tough not to get the girl with a sherwani like that.’
‘You’re … you’re … wearing a salwar kameez!’ Amar burst into a laughing fit.
‘It’s a princely sherwani,’ Manav frowned. What did these buffoons know about dressing like a prince anyway? ‘But I don’t expect commoners to understand.’
‘Bro, that party is going to be full of commoners, bro,’ Anthony pointed out, using the latest double bro style of sentence construction. ‘And if you show up in that sherwani thing, then it’s going to be a party full of commoners laughing at you.’
Manav allowed this to sink in for a moment. He still couldn’t see what was not to love about a man in a red silk sherwani with loud gold patterns but perhaps it was a touch too regal for a birthday party. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘What do I wear?’
‘I know!’ said Anthony. ‘Hang on, I’ll get you my good white shirt’.
‘Your white shirt?’ Manav couldn’t believe that was the solution. He had seen that white shirt a thousand times. He barely even recognized it as clothing anymore.
‘I said good white shirt,’ said Anthony almost offended, running to his room to fetch it.
Looking at the blank look on Manav’s face, Akbar explained, ‘A good white shirt is not the same as a white shirt. It’s a special-occasion shirt. Kind of like the cutlery your mom only takes out when guests come over.’ Manav was still blank.
‘That’s right, you’re the prince. It’s not like you have special cutlery in case the queen comes to visit,’ Akbar mumbled to himself.
‘It’s still a white shirt! How different can it be?’ Manav was beginning to get frustrated. He didn’t want to be late for the party but it looked like he still had nothing to wear.
‘Shhhhh,’ said Amar and Akbar in unison. They hadn’t factored in time-warp when they decided it would take him fifteen minutes to get ready.
‘Here you go,’ Anthony walked into the room holding out the carefully folded “good white shirt.”
‘Still don’t get it,’ said Manav as he tried it on in a hurry.
‘Maaaan,’ said Akbar, ‘now we’re talking.’ The other two nodded their approvals as well but Manav just failed to get it. But this was a city folk party and he was going to listen to the people who knew the scene better than he did.
‘Whatever,’ said Manav. ‘This better work.’
‘Oh, it will, brother,’ said Anthony. ‘Never underestimate the magic of the white shirt. Chicks dig the look.’
The manly dress-up session was interrupted by a text from Rhea asking where he was. Our prince decided to test the waters and sent her a selfie.
‘Ooh,’ came the reply. ‘Lukin sharp.’
‘Okay then,’ Manav blushed. ‘White shirt it is.’
10
Short Version: The hero is given the perfect moment with the heroine. And he botches it up like a true blue Bollywood hero.
Kiran had a basically combative nature and was gifted at taking people head on in arguments but she was no match for the guy who put the Man in Manipulation. Turned out, her plan to involve Ro and Rhea’s parents in keeping Manav away from Rhea, fell flat on its face and only ended up making Rhea insistent on showing Manav off at the party. No one could wrap their heads around what Rhea saw in him but they couldn’t tear their eyes away from the sight of them walking around hand in hand either. It was fascinating. Much like that picture of the tiger nursing the piglets that was doing the rounds on Whatsapp groups. At some point in the future people will be reading this book and hopefully wondering what we are talking about. For their benefit, Whatsapp Groups are groups of people who know each other and have chosen to be part of a micro community bonded by a free text messaging service and any random theme. So, in 2015 everybody from friends to school buddies, to relatives to office colleagues, to teams within office colleagues to haters of certain individuals within teams within office colleagues (hope you’re getting the drift) had Whatsapp groups. And these groups shared stuff that people felt was wasted on individuals. Like porn. And sayings wrongly attributed to the Dalai Lama. And Rumi. And doctored pictures of piglets suckling tigers.
While we are getting sidetracked, Rhea was acutely aware of the attention she was getting but she couldn’t care less. This wasn’t about Manav, this was about everyone in her life believing they knew what was best for her and attempting to control her life every second of every day. It ended now.
Manav, on the other hand, was oblivious. He couldn’t get the first thing about the fuss over this party. Clearly, people in the Big City had no frame of reference for what constituted a celebration. There were no parades, no magicians, no fire dancers, and the food …! They had a stall for raw fish and people couldn’t stop raving about how Rhea’s party always had sushi. ‘What the fuck,’ thought Manav. ‘Raw fish by any other name is just as smelly.’ He was impressed by his own ability to play around with Shakespeare after just a few classes. He had a lot to teach this p
rincess of hearts.
‘Rhea, can I talk to you for a second?’ Kiran interrupted his stream of thought.
‘Sure. Talk.’ Rhea was clearly in the mood to pick a fight. It was rare but when she lost it, she totally lost it.
‘Umm, privately?’ said Kiran, being careful to smile in order to not make a scene.
‘Nope. Whatever you want to say to me, you can say in front of Manav. He’s my friend.’ Rhea raised her voice a notch and Manav felt his chest come out. She was sticking up for him. Publicly. This was it. She was declaring her love for him! He couldn’t wait to tell his mum to proceed with wedding preparations.
‘Rhea,’ Ro stepped in. ‘Can you please come in for five minutes?’
‘You don’t get to say or ask me anything. You lost that right the minute you discussed my life and my choices with her instead of me!’ Rhea shot back.
Manav was taller than Ro but at this moment, he felt a whole foot taller. He could have grabbed Rhea and kissed her right there.
‘Rhea, please …’ her mother joined in. This was emotional blackmail. They knew she couldn’t say no to her mother.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Five minutes.’
Manav decided to walk around and observe the way commoners partied while he waited for Rhea but ended up spending all the time talking to the watchman instead. Because he wanted to make a point to himself that he was the kind of prince who talked to watchmen. Plus, he wanted to make sure the watchman liked him and would Whatsapp him the next time Rhea left with Ro.
Meanwhile inside the Somany house, voices were raised and the argument was heated: ‘Rhea, we’re just watching out for you,’ said Ro sincerely.
‘Well, you can stop doing that,’ said Rhea. ‘I’m old enough to watch out for myself.’
‘That you are but you’re also rather naïve, darling,’ Mrs Somany said gently. ‘And there’s no shame in having family and friends look out for you.’
Half Boyfriend Page 4
