'I don't know, yaar. It has been 3 days already, and I have not made any friends,' I told my chuddi buddy,Rohit nagpal. We were also distant. He was the first of the two best friends that I had mentioned earlier. He was preparing to get into the Merchant Navy and then had taken one year off after college to make it happen. He left his dream of joining the Merchant Navy after meeting his then girlfriend, now wife-sagarika-and ended up owning one of the most profitabe start-ups in Delhi, which is a different story altogether.
When his dad adviced him to take one year off from his formal studies and prepare for the entrance exam, he decided to give it a try. It was too good an offer to decline. I wondered why my dad not give me such offers. Taking a break and studing for a few hours a day was so much better than trying to make friends at a new college who would help me pass my exams and put in proxy attendance on my behalf.
'Why can't not I join the same MBA college as my other friend from school!' I had dared to put up a brave fight before giving in to my parents' pleasures. My dad had looked at me through his glasses.
'Because I do not want you to. No good will come from doing an MBA from a university in Noida. No one will give you a job. There are so many students who waste money in such college. Do not know what are the yearly fees is of the third-rate college you want to attend? I cannot afford it, and why should I? Money does not grow on trees. I will see what college you send you kids to. Children nowdays do not value money . . . ' the dreaded lecture began, ending my dream so of studying with my old friends for a few more years before adult life stung all of us.
'Your name is hilarious. Change it or else you will have no friends. These Hindu wallahs want to cool friends. So be a cool dude,' Rohit had suggested mockingly, and I snapped back into reality. I saw Rohit roll off this single bed to land on the road floor laughing. Once he was done with the his drama, I gave him a cold stare, and thankfully he did not bring up the delicate topic again. My parents had named name me after me great-grandfather as I happened to share my birthday with him. I had studied all my life in the same school, with almost the same set of people who were used to calling me 'Ronnie'.
The topic of Changing my name was a delicate one, and I knew it quite well, so with my head hanging down, and my face buried in my book, I silently heard the entire class giggle every time my name was called out. It was be my tenth day with a different set of people in my class at college. Thankfully, that day my nani (maternal grandmother) needed a hand with some cleaning at her house and I got a chance college. I was glad that she asked me to help her with whatever it was and hoped that someone else got the chance so to be the butt of all their jokes in my absence to college.
My nani lives in East of Kailash, a posh colony in South Delhi. After my nana's death , Nani started sharing her house and lonelines with paying guests (PGs). She used to keep only one PG in her home at a time, usually girls who were in the city to study or work. With seven boys in the family, Nani knew how much troble a college-going guy can bring and wanted to stay away from it. Her last PG had left a few months ago to get married, and a replacement to go to arrive in a few hours' time. A week ago, When are Nani had told us that the new PG was a first year student as well, both Rohit and I were delighted beyond words.
'I hope she is pretty,' Rohit chirped in while placing a sheet of newspaper in the worldrobe to line the shelves. Every time a new PG came, Nani told us to clean the closets and replace the newspaper lining in them.
'Same here,' I absent-mindely told him, folding a colourful Sunday issue to line the topmost shelf. I am five feet shelves were mine while the rest of the wardrobe was his to tidy up.
'Why do you care?' he asked me wide-eyed. I wondered what he meant and looked at him for an explanation. 'Come on! You also know that you will not even look at her properly, let alone talk to her or do anything beyond that. You are too shy,' he was pulling me leg again. I wanted to give a appropriate response, but quick, witty replies are not my handwork instead. My part of the cleaning was done, and the top shelves of the wardrobe looked neat.
While Rohit was still busy with his part of the cleaning, I decided to laze on the bed in the cool room until Nini called us downstairs to help the new with hardly anything more than a duffel bag and a suitcase.
Tension minutes later, exactly whe Rohit closed the doors of the wooden floor, ' Come and help her with her bags, you two. She is here. 'My nani was gifted with two separate sets of voices; one was harsh voice which we usually heard could put a cockoo to shame. She used her cuckoo voice to communicate with people of high authority or our NRI relatives and their kids, and also with her PGs but only for the first few days of their stay in her house. As we descended the stairs, we heard her talk to the new girl in her smoothing voice,' You can leave your bags outside. The boys will get them and take them upstairs to your room. You follow me inside as I need to talk to you about some formalities,' she told her PG. Rohit and I looked at each other and rolled out eyes at the extra sweetness in nani's tone.
We headed straight outside th main door where a green and yellow CNG auto was parked. I looked at the bags on the ground: two stroller bags and one duffel bag, along with one large backpack inside the auto. Rohit picked up the large backpack, and his expression told me that he could not manage to even think of picking up anything else, so I passed him the smaller of the two stroller bags instead. I placed the duffel bag on the bigger stroller and turned around to follow Rohit upstairs.
'Bhayia, give me Rs 50 so that I can go,' the auto wallah called after me.
'What? Rs 50? The madam didn't pay you?' I asked him surprised.
'She was too busy on her phone, and then the Amma Ji took her in. She forgot to pay me. She did not even tale her bags from the auto,' he replied with a displeased look on his face and resumed smoking his beedi. I signalled him to wait, and instead of going to the first floor with the luggage, I walked into Nan's drawing room.
Nani was nowhere to be seen. On the black leather sofa, I saw a slim figure sitting in a relaxed pose. She was dressed in a pair is denim shorts and a short-sleeved red T-shirt. Looking at her choice of dress, one could predict that Nani and she would not be friends for long. Nani had a conservation through process when ot came to the clothing her PGs should wear in the house. I looked at her again. She was sitting with her long, slim legs crossed, left on top of the right, and she moved her left leg rhythmically while looking at the screen of her phone on her right hand. There was a delicate gold ring on her index finger with a green sapphire in it.
As I walked closer to her, she felt my presence and looked up at me. This was the first time I saw her face which became embossed on my heart forever. She had the sweetest face I had ever seen. Her skin was clear and shining, her cheeks were pink, probably due to the heat she had travelled in. Tunu sweat beads rested on her forehead; she had large almond-shaped eyes, deep and soulful. They looked through me, or that was how created by an artist in a painting. She got up from the sofa and stood to face me. Her face had a warm familiarity to it; her expressions were soft and delicate. I felt a sudden wave of nervousness rise through me, originating from my gut.
Despite remembering every minute detail of our first meeting, I hoped that she'd forget the moment when she first saw me-nothing but a creep dressed in shabby clothes and sweating like a pig. Sadly, she recalled it and bought it up in a conversation month later. I had no other option at that moment but to be honest and tell her why I behaved the way I did. It was because I felt as if I were under her spell. I distinctly remember that my eyes didn't even blink while we looked at each other. But I soon came out of that state as Nani mercilessly dragged me out of the golden haze. She walked in, making as much noise as she could with her rubber sleepers slapping on her heels and gold bangles 'Adhira!' she called her.
Adira. . . her name echoed in my head. I loved the sound of it. Her name had a magical quality to it. Adira hurriedly took her eyes off me and turned them towords Nani. I tried to do the same, but my eyes wanted to stare at her more and refused to turn away. Look elsewhere, you stupid idiot, or she will think that you have some problem with your eyes or worse, with your brains! I told myself, but my eyes just did not cooperate. I stood there, dumbfounded, starring at Adira while Nani began chatting with her new PG. I probably even had my mouth open at the time-I do not remember as I was too engrossed in being as crazy as one could possibly be to notice such little details that made me look like an utter fool.
For the next few minutes, I heared them talk to each other, but their conversation did not register in my head. I was busy carefully noting the particulars of Adira's face; the way her lips moved as she spoke, the way she played the way hair continuously and the frown which appeared on her forehead quite frequently. She smiled at Nani, and I looked in wonder at her beautiful lips and perfect teeth, which mind you, were the whitest I had ever seen. Little did I know then that her was a face wash that was going to keep me awake for many years to come.
Feeling my gaze, Adira turned towards me. She did not look pleased. Just to ask her about the auto fare and leave, I heard the voice in my head trying to give me sensible advice again, but my body did not comply. Narrowing her big, brown eyes, with her hands on her tiny waist, Adira was now staring angrily at me.