I do, I do!’
Seven
Rohit Randhwah? The very name sounded like a slap. A fourth year student now, the new and improved version of a contact lens wearing Ankur, was sitting in the canteen with Vyas. The lanky Vyas who resembled the straw he was drinking from, had just informed his chubby roommate of the likelihood of a certain Ms Sonali Shah being in a steady relationship with one of the most disagreeable elements in class. Vyas was hardly the kind to be an agent in the transmission of the pollen grain of gossip, so Ankur was actually worried.
‘They did their internship together last summer. They’ve been seeing each other since,’ said Vyas, as he proceeded to make annoying, gurgling sounds with his straw and what was left of his drink. Ankur’s face contorted, bothwith the noise and the news. He suddenly wanted to reach out and tear all the tissue papers that stood in front of him, neatly arranged in a glass.
‘But how can you be so sure? I did my internship with Jaishree, but I’m not seeing her!’ blurted Ankur, ready to let lose the dam of his Arien temper on the hapless Vyas.
‘Listen, everybody in class knows. Everybody, except you, evidently!’ replied Vyas, who having just finished his drink, was ready to bite into a hot samosa.
‘What are you saying? We hardly see Rohit in class!’ shot back Ankur, visibly irritated.
‘That’s the point!’ Vyas replied calmly, ‘Sonali used to skip unimportant classes to do research; now she skips research to do unimportant work!’
‘Listen…are you like, really sure? I have to ask Sonali about this,’ said Ankur in a slightly desperate voice, his sense of reasoning returning.
‘What will you ask her?’ Vyas asked, noticing that Ankur had not touched his drink.
‘What you just told me,’ Ankur answered, making Vyas sit up.
‘Please don’t. I’ll be murdered right here, in this law college!’ pleaded the till-now unruffled Vyas.
‘I mean it’s true, right?’ asked Ankur, confused.
‘Yeah, but, Sonali may not like the fact that I told you about it,’ said Vyas hastily, putting the rest of the samosa in his mouth and wiping his greasy fingers on a paper napkin.
It was a pleasant July evening, but the thoughts racing through Ankur’s head were far from pleasant. Just how did all this come about? Sonali was his best friend and if he could, he would even call her his girlfriend. Ankur had never been as close to any girl as he had been to Sonali.
Ankur felt betrayed. Agreed, over the summer vacation he had been busy and had not been very much in touch with her. It was mandatory for the third year law students to spend their vacation swimming in dusty files as they tried to ingratiate themselves to over-worked lawyers, beneath whom they slogged. The stupid girl obviously hadn’t considered their cheerful banter last semester, a proposal. All playful interactions ought to be banned, Ankur thought darkly.
‘You really should have asked her out,’ counselled Vyas wisely, late as he usually did. The bird had already flown the coop. Ankur remained silent. This simply couldn’t be true. And if it was, he would rearrange Rohit’s face and step into Sonali’s life. Even Hindi movies allowed that!
A group of pretty female juniors entered the cafeteria and one of them flashed a smile at Vyas who returned half a smile and politely averted his eyes. A girl should never smile at a guy, Vyas thought. The guy is left wondering whether the smile was actually directed at him or not. If yes, the male brain is left in a dilemma over whether it is safe to strike up a conversation after revealing his orthodontic wonders. But if the smile was not directed at him, the girl just might respond by striking something—his ego, if not his cheek.
Yet, since Vyas already had a girlfriend, who would periodically emerge from a graveyard of all places, he found it safer to look at the crumbs
Peter Matthiessen, 1937- Hugo van Lawick