by Durjoy Datta
‘What do you mean? You had a super-rich boyfriend and I ended up dating you.’
‘She wants her boyfriends to be super rich. Not a miser like you. Get the difference?’ she said, tapping my head.
‘I am not a miser. You never let me spend. Not my fault that you know everybody around. And certainly not my fault that my father doesn’t have huge cash reserves that I can indiscriminately spend on my girlfriends.’
‘I know it’s not your fault,’ she said. I knew she didn’t mean to hurt me. I was a poor kid by her standards. Some of her friends never even dated someone who didn’t have a car of his own.
‘Then I guess you should go to your senior’s ex-boyfriend. Maybe he will take you to Goa and dump you. Won’t you be so happy?’ I said irritably.
‘Aww, I am sorry. I love you and you know that. There is nothing that could change that, Deb. I am addicted to you. I have dated rich guys before and they are jerks, trust me on that. Moreover I like doing the little things that I do with you. I don’t wish to go to Goa or some fancy dinner place; I just want to sit at a roadside joint and listen to all the nice things you always have to say about me,’ she said while pulling my cheeks and thus putting things back in order.
‘You have some really hot girls in your college.’
‘If you say anything good about the other girls in my college one more time, I am not going to talk to you. Ever. Again.’
‘Okay, fine,’ I said and we laughed out.
‘But you do have a point, Deb. I never noticed that,’ she said.
‘But then I didn’t expect the girls at DCE to be like the one that just passed us by.’
‘Let’s just say all engineers are terrible-looking. I think that’s a fair enough generalization,’ she winked at me.
‘Oh, that’s not totally correct. There is a reason for it. The rich kids take commerce and humanities. The poorer ones take up engineering. That explains the good-looking-bad-looking phenomenon. Makes sense?’
‘No, it doesn’t. I don’t get the poorer ones take up engineering crap,’ she said, stationing both her fists on her waist, visibly pissed off.
‘It’s quite simple. The rich kids tend to take up commerce and humanities because they have a lessened sense of responsibility. Career isn’t the be-all and end-all of everything for them. So they take up something that allows them to have more fun and eventually, in most cases, join their father’s businesses or get married.’
‘Lessened responsibility? People around here have an equally bright career as you, Deb.’
‘But this wasn’t the case five years back when you actually took up commerce. It’s just been two years since the placement cell started in your college. There were no companies that were hiring commerce graduates five years ago. You only had a career if you had an engineering degree.’
‘You do have a point there. But I still don’t agree with your rich is equal to good-looking funda.’
‘That’s an easier one to grasp. If you are rich, you have access to better clothes, better accessories, better shoes, better places, so you learn more and you implement more. Most people here may not be inherently beautiful. But they dress smart, bathe in expensive creams and you have a legion of girls who look as if they just stepped out of the cinema screen.’
It was obvious logic. Also, the richer the girls get, the sexier they are. The sexier they are, the better guys they get, who invariably are more desirable and attractive. Better guys who are better in bed lead to superior craving. Once they have already tried it, they are more liberated and assertive about their needs. More assertive is what is often wrongly labelled as being horny. Just because a girl knows what she wants doesn’t make her horny or lustful or vile. If it were the case, the entire male species is vile.
Anyway, what we just derived is that rich is sexy, but what matters is that rich is invariably lusty too. You never say, poor horny housewives; it’s always rich horny housewives!
‘Okay, I lose, but that doesn’t mean you are right,’ she said, easing up.
‘The list is out.’ The placement coordinator shouted out.
‘Please, please, please, please go and see. I can’t,’ she clung to my arm and squeezed the place to pulp where I would have had biceps and triceps if I ever went to the gym and worked out.
‘As you say.’ I loved the jostling and pushing around. I was the only guy in the crowd shoving around in a sea of great-smelling women.
Why was I not surprised? Predictably, her name was the first on the list! I was incredibly happy and sad at the same time. And then I was just happy.
‘Have I been selected?’ she said as she tried to look for a smile on my smug face.
‘Yes, you have!’ I shouted and we hugged furiously. They had selected just three out of the eighty students they had interviewed. The one I sat in took fifty students out of the hundred they had interviewed and I still didn’t figure in their list. Opposites attract! She was immensely intelligent while I was a smelling turd of stupidity.
‘Thanks, Sri Guru,’ she whispered.
‘What? I was the one who was praying for you and your Sri Guru gets the credit. I don’t know how you can believe in hideously bearded, stupid god-men.’
‘Hey, don’t you dare say anything about Sri Guru. If you don’t like him, keep that to yourself. He is family for me. It’s because of him that I am what I am right now. I don’t want to get into this discussion again. You won’t understand what I have been through, so you have no right to say anything about him.’
‘Okay, I’m sorry.’ I wasn’t. ‘Anyway, the basic point is, I need a treat now that you’re going to be a big investment banker. And you need to tell me how an investment banker is different from a cashier at the bank I go to. It’s all the same to me!’
‘That’s not funny, Deb.’
‘Aw.’ I hugged her, but seriously, I had no idea what an investment banker does. All I knew was that they wear expensive suits and shoes, drive big cars, and take home a fat paycheque.
I was very happy for her, even though I felt like a complete loser. I had spent a year at home trying to get through an engineering entrance exam, spent four years in engineering and there she was, a commerce graduate, just a commerce graduate, who would end up having a better career than I would. I hated to be envious and not give credit for what she had achieved because after all, getting into SRCC was almost as tough as getting into DCE.
‘Hi, Shawar,’ Avantika said as we were leaving college and looking for a rickshaw to Kamla Nagar, a market where the entire Delhi University used to hang out.
Just as we left her college, her phone rang. It was Shawar and she took the call and put it on loudspeaker.
‘Hi, Avantika. I heard you got through with that interview you had today. Who are you with right now? Debashish? Stay there. I want to meet you and him. After all, there are too many things I have to congratulate you on.’
She looked at me almost pitifully as I wet my pants. We both knew what meeting me meant. The last time he met a guy, the guy ended up in a hospital bed with six stitches, a broken jaw and a couple of broken ribs. I was a big guy but I wasn’t a fighter. I have tried to stay out of scuffles after one of my adversaries left me with a chipped tooth. I had not thrown a punch in fifteen years.
‘Shawar, he has to rush. I am sorry he can’t stay.’
‘Why not? Give the phone to him. I need to talk to that bastard.’ He didn’t sound friendly to say the least.
‘He is drunk,’ Avantika whispered in my ear.
‘Hey, dude. Where do you have to go? Too busy to meet me, eh?’ Shawar said.
‘Yes, kind of. I have an exam tomorrow and I have to study for it.’
‘Ohh, do you? Both of you think I am a fool, don’t you?’ he bellowed.
‘No seriously, I do have to leave. I can’t meet you right now.’
‘Just wanted you to know that I called Vernita up and she told me everything about the two of you. And you don’t have an exam. That means y
ou have a choice. Either you meet me right now or I will see you at your place. It doesn’t seem too appropriate that I beat you up in front of your parents. The choice is yours to make. I am reaching Delhi University in ten minutes.’
He disconnected the line. I wish I could choose to be invisible.
‘Damn, I am so dead. Will he actually beat me up? What did Vernita tell him?’ I was petrified.
‘I don’t think he will let you off easily. Let him come, I will try to talk to him. And I agree. Vernita is a slut, after all.’
‘What do you think he will do? Is he big?’
‘He is half your size. He’s really short.’ She punched me.
‘Is that supposed to be a joke? I haven’t fought since forever and I know I suck at it.’
‘No, seriously, he is half your size, but he won’t be coming alone. He will come with his hooligan friends for sure and they love getting into fights.’
‘Thanks for the consolation. Can’t we do something? Go some place. The police? Some hawaldar? What do you say?’
‘The last guy who tried to do something ended up in bed for four months. Calm down. It’s just a street fight. You will be okay.’
‘Calm down? You’re not getting your ass kicked, I am! Yes, sure. Street fights? That’s pretty okay, too. Don’t you know that’s what I do for a living?’ I started walking around in circles, wondering how fast I could run … could I possibly tire him out?
It was too late for that, the Chicken McGrills and the chicken buckets had taken their toll on my body. Damn McDonalds and KFC! I had always assumed I would die of obesity, not of a smashed head.
‘You want to call the cops? Go ahead. But what will you tell your parents? And yes, he owns the Shababs’ chain of restaurants. That incidentally makes him rich and powerful beyond your imagination. He can bribe the whole police department, for god’s sake. Just calm down. Let me handle him when he comes here.’
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck man, I will so kill Vernita if I survive this.’
‘Deb? Can’t you get some guy to side with you? They won’t have to fight, just keep Shawar’s guys from fighting. They might not get into a fight if they foresee it getting out of hand,’ she said.
I knew I couldn’t get anybody to fight for me. I didn’t have any friends who would be willing to fight on my side and I couldn’t involve Shrey in it. I was still on talking terms with girls I had dated or flirted with, but I was sure they would fight on Shawar’s side and not mine. Wouldn’t they just love to see my face smashed against a pavement.
‘No, I don’t think I can get anyone.’
‘What about Viru? Yogi?’
‘I don’t think so. They will take an hour to reach and I can’t drag them into this. They are hardly friends.’
‘Shit!’ she said, covering her mouth.
‘I am officially dead. Is that what you are trying to say?’
‘Not exactly. He loves me. That might save you … if anything can.’
‘You know what? I hate your guts so much right now. How can you be so chilled out? Your boyfriend’s going to be stripped and beaten up and you are just standing there, looking sexy. I hate you with everything I have got.’
‘I love you, baby. Here they come, I guess,’ she said pointing to the red light. Two massive cars screeched to a halt near us. The cars were new but marred with hideous modifications and gross stickers that screamed ‘Drink beer, fuck fear’. I couldn’t do any of that. I wondered how many people were inside the two cars.
A door opened. And a dark complexioned midget popped out.
Shawar was barely five-foot-three, two inches shorter than Avantika and a good seven inches shorter than me. He had strange curly hair and bloodshot eyes. It was a funny sight watching him take big strides like a hard-core villain from a low budget south Indian movie. He was in a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, and desperately tried to look menacing. Incidentally, the dog he almost tripped over looked more threatening.
He walked up to me and stopped inches away from me. He was so short that he could have had a whiff at my armpits without bending. I wish he had. My greatest weapon, that is, if he didn’t allow me to place my butt on his face and I had a faint feeling that he wouldn’t. His teeth were decayed, as Avantika had told me. Too much methamphetamine and gutka does that to you. His skin had red sores all over it. The drugs leave you with an itching sensation. Avantika had survived all that, and I shudder to this day thinking about what would have happened to her if it were not for the Spirit of Living and Sri Guru. Maybe she was right when she said I wouldn’t understand what she had gone through and what Sri Guru meant to her.
‘Let’s go,’ he grabbed at my hand. It wasn’t funny any more.
‘No … no … I can’t come …’ I struggled for words as I fixed my eyes on the bald patches between his curly hair. He would be bald in a few years. Smoking makes you lose hair, and also makes you impotent. I was about to be thrashed by a half-man who was puny and looked ridiculous.
‘What makes you think you are in any position to decide, chutiye?’
‘He is not going anywhere, Shawar,’ Avantika said as she freed me from his puny hands.
‘Avantika, I am not talking to you,’ he said as he grabbed my hand again.
‘C … c … can’t we j … u … s … t … just talk here?’ I stammered. I was glad there was nobody around to see the terrified woman in me. There was usually a crowd around in my school days, mocking my helplessness.
‘We fucking can’t. There are certain things we need to settle. You bloody screwed my happiness. I will now do the same to you. You are not getting away with this.’
‘What did I do?’ I squeaked.
‘What did you do? Do you even know who I am? Do you? You bloody took my girl away from me, that’s what you did, asshole. Get it. I will destroy your whole life. Can you do something about it? Go ahead. Try it.’
‘Shawar, mind your language!’ Avantika shouted.
‘Avantika, I love you. I am not doing anything to you. But stay out of this; it’s between the two of us.’ He looked at her. His shoulders drooped and he seemed to melt and sublimate. He reminded me of myself when I first met Avantika. I prayed to god to turn me into a girl then. You can’t be beaten up and you can choose when you want to have sex.
‘He is my friend. There is nothing between the two of you. Whatever happens will happen here, right now. In front of me.’
‘Yes, in front of her,’ I said.
I repeated it again. He looked at me. I knew I had said something outrageously cowardly, but I didn’t care if it saved my ass. I was surprised I didn’t hide behind Avantika and stick a thumb up my mouth.
‘He is a friend? Vernita bloody told me everything. She hates him. And you? What are you looking at, bhenchod? Vernita told me where you are and asked me to bash you up from her side too. This is what his friends think about him. And you left me for him? Why?’
‘Vernita is not a friend,’ I said. I was hurt. I hated her too. But I didn’t want her to be hurt. Deep down she was still a friend. Suddenly, I was angry and I thought about taking Shawar on and beating him to a pulp. Only a little bit though. Maybe in a video game.
‘Shut up, you asshole. Come with me.’ He started dragging me towards the car.
‘SHAWAR!’ Avantika shouted. ‘What do you think of yourself? It’s not his fault. Leave him.’ The mere decibel-level of her voice shook him enough to let go of me. I thanked her. She continued, ‘I love him. And you can do nothing about it. You do anything to him and everything will be over between us. I never loved you. I loved Paritosh. I dated you because I wanted to hurt him. Who do you think you are? You thought we could be together? My foot! I could have bloody stoned myself to death and you would have hardly cared. Shawar, was there a single time when you showed a little bit of care? Once, when you asked me not to drink? Or smoke? Fuck you, Shawar. I love him. You do anything to him, I will destroy you. You know I can. Love is not stalking someone, Shawar. Love is
what Deb has for me. I was wrong with Paritosh. I was wrong with you. I have finally got it right. Touch him and you are not getting away with it. I will so ruin you. I so will. You have a choice.’
My jaw, literally, hit the ground. I stood there frozen and scared, even though the words weren’t directed at me. She said she used to be a rude bitch before she joined Spirit of Living and I never believed that. Now I did. She could have blown apart a building, shattered glass and ended a war with that outburst. Shawar was just a rich powerful guy. And he was crying.
‘Deb, can you leave us alone for a second?’ Avantika asked me. Shawar had slumped onto the pavement, his head buried in his palms as he sobbed.
‘Sure,’ I winked at her, but she didn’t respond as I would have liked her to.
It was a lovely sight to see him cry. Shawar stayed on the pavement and continued weeping for quite some time. Who’s the little girl now? Avantika was sitting right beside him. They talked for twenty minutes and Shawar left in his hideous car, not once looking at me. I had emerged victorious.
‘Thank you, Avantika.’ I hugged her. ‘You beat the shit out of him. That was great!’
‘You found it funny? I had to hurt the poor guy,’ she said and looked away.
‘I am sorry,’ I said.
‘Don’t be. I loved it too. I think he deserved it,’ she winked and hugged me again.
‘Oh, love you.’
‘You know what? He expected you to get some guys with you. He was somewhat disappointed. And yes, there were cops, too, in the car. Just in case. Who knew my new boyfriend would be such a wimp?’
‘A sexy wimp?’ I asked, trying to gain at least somewhere.
‘Yes, a very sexy wimp. Thanks, Sri Guru,’ she whispered and I suppressed an urge to ridicule her. I always wondered, would these god-men, evoke the same saintly sentiments if they had to shave off their beards?
Shawar had wasted a lot of our time. It meant Avantika had to go back to her hostel sooner.
‘I think we will have to settle for Tom Uncle’s Maggi, then,’ I said.
