You Were My Crush: Till You Said You Love Me!

by Durjoy Datta

  ‘Why?’ She said, ‘I did all the work and what if sir asks questions? I will not put the whole group at risk just for you.’

  I was almost shocked at how nerdy and headstrong this girl was. I did not know what to say.

  ‘C’mon, Diya,’ Eshaan said.

  ‘What? I just won’t allow it. Now, if you are done, we have to revise,’ she said and looked away from us.

  ‘You know what?’ I said and she looked at me. ‘You can take the project and shove it up your tight ass for all I care.’

  I cannot say I was not scared as I said that. It looked like she would throw her laptop at my face. Thankfully, she did not. I did not want my face to get any uglier. I walked away. As I strode outside the class, I could hear Diya shout at Eshaan and tell him what a horrible guy I was. I did not care. Well, the others in the group just asked, ‘Who is he? Never seen him in class!’

  Chapter Five

  A little later, we all sat in the class, and she was still right there. Her nostrils still looked like caves and the big eyes behind those spectacles looked at me as if they were trying to blow me up. She had a striking resemblance to the lizard on the ceiling that watched me just as she did.

  ‘So, what do we have lined up for today?’ the professor asked. He was younger and he definitely looked sharper than the other professors who taught us.

  ‘Project presentations,’ one of the students said. I have never understood these students. Why do they have to go ahead and remind teachers that they had to screw us?

  ‘I am glad you remember them,’ he said. ‘I went through all of them. How do you guys think you did in your projects?’ he asked very harmlessly.

  The answers ranged from okay to good to could-have-been-better. I looked at Diya with a cold stare although her eyes were stuck on the professor. Freaking nerd girl.

  ‘Good? Excellent?’ he said, smiling. ‘PATHETIC! Just pathetic!’ he shouted suddenly.

  I had always considered that my ears were impervious to any nonsense from teachers and professors, but this professor was loud. Windows shattered, guys pissed in their pants and people broke out of their daydreams.

  ‘Do you call those unformatted pieces of shit presentations? I cannot believe this is the state of affairs at one the most prestigious graduate colleges in India. No wonder you guys never make it to management colleges and those students from engineering colleges do. DISGRACEFUL!’

  He started to hurt where it hurt the most. No commerce student wanted to be compared to an engineering student and be told that he or she was less intelligent or brainy.

  ‘But, sir,’ Diya interrupted, ‘we—’

  ‘Diya, right?’ he said. ‘You think you did any better? All you did was copy-paste from websites. Only numbers! Where was the analysis? I asked for a study. What did you think your numbers meant? Who all were in the group with you? Stand up,’ he shouted.

  Everyone in the group stood up, and I stood up too. I wanted to add salt to Diya’s wounds. I wanted to make it worse for her. I wanted to stomp on her. Bloody lizard. The professor looked at all of us. He counted. The veins in his eyes had turned red and thick in anger.

  ‘Eight of you?’ he said. ‘Wasn’t I clear enough that one group wouldn’t have more than seven people, Diya? You were the group leader, right? Terrible.’

  ‘Sir,’ her voice was now not even half as confident as it was before, ‘he is not a part of our group.’ She pointed towards me like a little school-going child.

  ‘You are not?’ He turned to me. ‘I have never seen you in class before. Do you even come to college?’

  ‘I had some problems at home,’ I said.

  ‘Anyway, what is she saying? Are you a part of this group or not?’

  ‘Sir,’ I explained, ‘I was a part of their group but she kicked me out without informing me and I did not know when this presentation was. So, I didn’t take part in the presentation too.’

  ‘And you say it’s her fault?’

  ‘No, sir, it was mine, too. But I was meant to be a part of this group,’ I said, as politely as I could.

  ‘NO, he was NOT!’ she shouted, and though the class was shocked at her loud outburst, it almost brought a smile to my face. I could almost see tears in her eyes. Yes! I pumped my fist. Take that, bitch. Lizard. Bitchy Lizard.

  ‘Shut up, you two. Look at the two of you. What do you think this is? First grade? Everyone in the class will repeat their projects. You will choose new topics and I will send you the guidelines this time. And you two, yes, you will form a new group and only you two will work on the project.’

  ‘But, sir? I cannot work with him,’ she protested. ‘He doesn’t even come to college. He is irresponsible and brash.’

  She stood there, helpless. Her desperation was extreme. Life is so fair. She was now stuck with a lazy, incompetent guy! Oh, that’s me. Shit.

  ‘That’s not my problem,’ he said. ‘Although, Benoy, please don’t think that your dad can make a call and you will pass this subject. That will not happen. Do you get it?’

  Fuck him. Life is so unfair. Later, he added he could ask either of us to present and we would be marked as a group. Therefore, if I were to screw up, Diya would get a zero, too. It was a foolproof plan to screw us up. He said he would ensure the external examiners did not score our final papers.

  For the rest of the period, he kept harping on about how disciplined and intelligent students are in IIT Delhi, the college from where he graduated. He said he was appalled at the quality of students outside colleges like the IITs, DCEs and NITs. He was pissing off everybody in the class. Up your ass, I wanted to say.

  I should have been worried but I was happy that the arrogant girl got screwed with me as well; her shoulders had drooped and her face had lost its colour. As soon as the class ended, Diya started to look for me. I hid behind a big group of students and left the class with them.

  Fuck her, but yes, I was scared too.

  Chapter Six

  I would not say I hated him but I did not love him either.

  I was just indifferent.

  It was one of those unpleasant days. I strode inside Dad’s office. Every month, I had to sign a few papers, agree to a few deals and some other nonsense. Since last year, every business that was in Mom’s name was transferred to mine and my signatures were required for every major decision in the company. I waited for fifteen minutes in the conference room for him to turn up with three of his lawyers like he always did. Finally, he came and, as usual, he was sharply dressed in a grey suit that fit him snugly and a thin, black tie that looked smart on him. There were no signs of a middle-age paunch. He hardly looked like a father of a twenty-year-old.

  He was almost as tall as I was. Black hair peppered with white, a hint of stubble, dark brown eyes and exactly my complexion. I could bet my money he looked better than I did. Secretly, I had always felt good when relatives said that I looked exactly like my dad.

  Like every big business person in Delhi, he had never been to college. He took three attempts to clear school. He started as a minor steel trader in Sadar Bazaar, but slowly and steadily, he rose to become one of the biggest manufacturers of heavy machinery in India. He did it for the big industries, the government and the army—the people that mattered. My mom, a double doctorate in contemporary literature, told me that she was dejected because the man she was getting married to did not even understand the language she spent so many years studying.

  Things had changed now, though. As his business grew, he had to deal with high-profile clients and so he had mastered the language. He had spent a major chunk of the last three years in his London office. He had come back with a hint of a British accent. He was now an older Indian version of Gerard Butler or George Clooney. Seeing him today, it is very hard to believe that he almost did not make it through school.

  I always thought the real reason why these meetings were so painful was because I felt drawn to his charm. And whenever that happened I felt guilty about it since he had m
ade my mom go through a lot. But when he stood in front of me, with an apologetic look on his face, and used compelling words, I had a tendency to forgive him from the inside. In those moments, I felt like I had betrayed Mom.

  ‘Sign these.’ One of the lawyers showed me where all to sign. I did not need to read those papers. He could not have possibly bought my forgiveness through them. I finished signing those papers, and the lawyers left.

  ‘Benoy,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ I tried to be unresponsive and cold. I tried not to look at him.

  ‘How is college?’ he asked. ‘Have you started going?’

  ‘Yes, as if you don’t know,’ I said sarcastically.

  I knew he always kept tabs on me, tracked me wherever I went and knew whatever I did. I always thought he had someone following me at all times. Once, when my car broke down in the middle of nowhere, an employee of his was ‘coincidentally’ in the area to help me out.

  ‘Are you interested? Do you like the subjects?’ he asked and tried to be all fatherly. I wanted to tell him that it was too late to ask.

  ‘I don’t know. Some of them maybe,’ I said, still trying to be at my rudest.

  ‘If there is anything you need, you can always call me. And I was wondering if you would like to do your internship at my office in your summer vacations? You would get to learn a lot here,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t want to,’ I said.

  Fuck! He even knew that I had been looking for an internship. It was something that we had to do after our first year. Usually, nobody took it seriously and everyone sourced fake certificates. But, I had spent months sitting at home or at hospitals and I thought the internship would be a welcome change. I had to be around people again! Life had sucked for quite some time. Things had changed a lot from my schooldays.

  My school life was awesome! But now … every friend had got busy, moved out and settled in their college life. I was the one left out. It had been more than a year since I had any social life. Anyway, I had given a few interviews and had met with no success. At some levels, I always thought my dad was sabotaging my interviews with various companies.

  ‘It’s your choice at the end of the day,’ he said, ‘… but you can think about it.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said and I got up.

  His office was definitely much bigger than the offices where I had given my interviews. The only concern was whether I would be okay working with him. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that I should work with him. After all, he was my father.

  Yet, my insides were tearing apart. On the one hand was my tendency to pick up the broken pieces of my life, have a sense of family, and on the other, it was hard for me to forget what my mom had gone through while bringing me up alone and my missing dad’s part in all that.

  I am too young to have to take these decisions, I thought.

  Chapter Seven

  Law. Probably the most boring subject ever made. I have heard lawyers earn a lot. They deserve it, man! The torture they go through is unimaginable and no amount of money can justify it. Anyway, a really old professor was teaching us something and Eshaan probably regretted that he had called me to college that day. He called ten times that morning.

  I was not letting him study. I did not understand why he was so diligently taking down notes. There were just lines after lines of text that one had to mug up and reproduce in the examination. As commerce students, we were good at that!

  ‘How is Sonil?’ I asked him, just to tease him.

  ‘She is good. She really wanted to meet you that day,’ he whispered, even though the professor had no real intention of stopping anyone from talking.

  ‘Really? Why?’ I asked him. ‘I know she hates me.’

  ‘She doesn’t hate you,’ he said, ‘but she doesn’t approve of what you do.’

  Sonil, too, like everyone else thought I was a flirt and I put my hands (or something else!) on any girl that I could find. Initially, I used to get agitated but I had got used to it. Now I really did not care that much.

  ‘Let’s meet her today then?’ I said.

  ‘I have to go somewhere. A family friend’s kid wants to know which stream he should pick. I got to go to their place …’

  ‘How come you always find things to do?’ I said.

  Like really. Eshaan always took special interest in other people’s matters and all this kept him pretty busy throughout the day. When I first saw him in college, he was just another guy to me. Five feet eight, with a kid face, which instantaneously turned red in the sun. However, his energy and the forever-busy look on his face were some things you could not possibly miss. He kept hopping from one place to another.

  I did not like him at first but he took a liking to me. I was like a charity project for him. A misfit in the college classroom. I could imagine what a kick he must have got out of helping me!

  ‘Before the next class, just go and meet Diya once. She was looking for you,’ he said.

  ‘Me?’ I asked. ‘Why?’

  ‘You haven’t started the project, have you? You ran from the class that day, too! She was pretty pissed at you,’ he said.

  ‘Bitch.’

  I looked at her and she was sitting where she always sat. The first seat. She furiously jotted down everything that the professor had to say. She looked at the professor with unwavering concentration. I admired her patience and dedication. The class ended and the old man crawled out of the class. He said something about an assignment but nobody gave a shit and everybody moved out. Diya still sat there and underlined her notes. Nerd. As Eshaan left, he asked me to go and talk to her. I did not want to. I was sure she would bombard me with questions, abuses and responsibilities. I wanted none of these!

  I slowly trudged towards the first seat. I wished the ground beneath would open up and I could walk into hell rather than into a conversation with her. I went up to her desk, smiled at her and hoped she would not give me much work.

  ‘Sit,’ she said politely. Even then, I feared her reptile tongue might appear and suck me in.

  ‘Is there any topic you want to work on? Or do you want to go ahead with the topic that sir gave us?’

  Maybe, she was not a pain in the ass after all.

  ‘No, let’s do what he has asked us to do. We are anyway a little screwed,’ I said.

  ‘Good then,’ she said and bent over on the other side. She was searching for something in her huge bag and finally took out a book. Free Trade Agreements by some goofy-named author. Though the name was not what I was concerned about. I was concerned about its thickness! It was almost as thick as my forearm. No way! I shat my pants.

  ‘So … err … What do we do with this?’

  ‘Umm … nothing much,’ she said sarcastically. ‘We just need to read this, then critically analyse this book and give our own suggestions. That’s it.’

  Now she did not sound as sweet. Arrogance and sarcasm came rushing back into her voice. I heard the sentence again in my head. Read the book, analyse it and give suggestions. The stupid, fucking professor wanted us to read the entire book. And trust me, it’s not that I cannot read, but this was not a novel; it was a thousand-page book on economics and we had to go through the entire book.

  ‘But this isn’t even in the course?’ I protested, as I flipped through the book.

  1256 pages. Small font. I would rather be eaten up by Diya. Make her a reptile, please.

  ‘Isn’t it, Benoy? Then I will just go and tell sir that you think it is out of the syllabus and you don’t want to do it,’ she said coldly, adjusted her huge spectacles and looked away.

  Every time she looked at me, her face distorted in hatred and repulsion. The feeling was mutual.

  ‘I never said that,’ I said.

  ‘Then?’ her voice was now meaner and colder, like a pissed off schoolteacher on a low salary.

  ‘I will read it,’ I said and tried to sound as harsh as possible.

  ‘Fine, read the book by day after and then we can d
iscuss it. Note down anything that you think is important. Okay?’

  ‘Okay? What okay?’ I said. ‘Just two days? At least give me a week? Please?’

  I panicked. Anyone would. 1256 pages? Two days!

  ‘We don’t have a week, Benoy; he wants us to submit an initial framework in three days. And he might want to meet us tomorrow,’ she said, collected her things and was about to leave.

  ‘Is he crazy?’

  ‘I don’t know, but he certainly thinks we are dumb and if you mess this up, I am going to the principal,’ she said and looked at me with those unrelenting eyes.

  ‘Fine,’ I retorted and looked her back in the eye. Well, I would be lying if I said I was not a little scared to look at her like that.

  ‘I will see,’ she said, ‘you undeserving brat.’

  I think she wanted to say that in her mind, but it came out. She left without saying another word, leaving behind an air of hatred and just plain disgust.

  Undeserving brat.

  I did not have a comeback for that. I was taken aback at the unnecessarily vicious comment. She was being a bitch! Now, I just had to finish the book and do it before her.

  I called up Eshaan and he said he would have loved to help me out but he was caught up. He apologized more times than I could count. I disconnected the line, stared at the book that lay on my table and cursed the professor. Argh. My mind had started weighing options—call up Dad and ask him to write a big cheque? Or read the 1256-page book? The first option seemed more lucrative.

  I was staring blankly at the book for what seemed like ten years when my phone rang. Strange. Palak calling.

  ‘Hello?’ I said, not sure what to expect.

  ‘Benoy?’ she said. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Umm … nothing much. How are you?’

  ‘I am fine,’ she said.

  She did not sound half as cheerful as she was that day. I did not have a crush on this low-sounding girl on the other side of the phone. I had it on the girl who had been drunk and happy and danced as if she were nuts.