One Indian Girl(49)

‘It’s enough, leave me now. Please,’ I said in a soft voice.





20


‘Careful,’ I said. The Activa wobbled on the bumpy road as we came out of the Marriott driveway.

‘I haven’t ridden one of these in five years,’ Brijesh said. I wondered if I should hold him from behind. I could, considering I would be his wife in three days. However, I didn’t want him to think I was too easy either. I kept my hands on his shoulders instead.

We passed down a narrow road between rice fields. He went fast. The breeze made my hair fly all over my face.

‘This is fun,’ I said.

‘Great idea, Radhika,’ Brijesh said. ‘Dump the relatives. Do our own thing.’

‘Where are we going?’ I said.

‘Anjuna. That’s where we hung out when we came on a college trip.’

Thirty minutes later, we reached the rocky Anjuna beach and parked the bike. We walked for five minutes and reached a shack called Curlies. We sat on adjacent easy chairs, both of us facing the Arabian Sea. I removed my sneakers to rest my feet on the sandy floor of Curlies.

‘Beer?’ Brijesh said.

‘Sure,’ I said. He asked a waiter to bring us two Kingfishers. Two tables away, I saw another Indian couple. The girl wore red and white bangles on both hands, a wedding chudaa; they had just gotten married. Must be their honeymoon. They held hands, but it seemed a little awkward. Arranged marriage, maybe. I looked at Brijesh. We would be a married couple too by this weekend. Brijesh smiled as he handed me a half-pint Kingfisher bottle.

‘What did you tell your folks?’ Brijesh said.

‘I told Aditi didi that I am going for a walk with you.’

‘They don’t know you are at Anjuna?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘mom will freak out.’

I sipped my beer.

We watched the sun go down. A young singer at Curlies sang and played the guitar. The Goan sunset became even more poignant with the music. The singer sang Justin Bieber’s song, Sorry.



Is it too late now to say sorry?

Yeah, I know that I let you down Is it too late to say I’m sorry now?



The song made me think of Debu. He had come all the way from New York. Sure, he had been a jerk. But don’t people make mistakes? Wouldn’t most men react the same way if their girlfriend earned triple their salary? All he wants now is to marry me. Doesn’t he deserve a chance?

‘You seem lost,’ Brijesh said. ‘Am I so boring?’

I shook my head. I scolded myself for letting my mind go back to Debu again and again. And why am I rationalizing his behaviour so much? Is it again my female manufacturing defect, saying things like ‘But isn’t that what most men would do’?

Focus on the man you are with right now, mini-me screamed at me.

‘No, you are not boring. It’s a lovely place. Thanks, Brijesh,’ I said.

I still didn’t like his name. Hated it, in fact. Why did it have to be so unfashionable? ‘Meet my husband, Debashish Sen’ versus ‘Meet my husband, Brijesh Gulati’. Eww.

Girl, stop daydreaming.

‘We came to Goa on a mechanical-engineering college field trip.’

‘Engineering field trip to Goa?’ I said.

‘Well, we convinced the college authorities there’s enough industry in Goa.’

‘Like draught-beer-brewing machines?’ I said.

He laughed. ‘I admit it was a bit of a fraud. But we did visit the Goa Shipyard and Vedanta’s iron ore facility.’

‘For ten minutes?’

‘Fifteen minutes. Rest on the beaches. But hey, we submitted a report and everything.’

I took another sip of beer.

‘This is what happens at NIT? Goa trips in the name of industry visits?’ I tut-tutted.

‘Some of our classmates did go to the Bhilai Steel Plant. They hate us till today.’

We laughed together. Okay, I can do this, I told myself. He may not be the most interesting guy around, but the engineering college stories did make him more human.

‘You seem to have had fun in college.’

‘I’m not as boring as you think.’

‘I didn’t say you are.’

‘Actually, I am. Particularly when it comes to talking to women. But with the boys, I did have fun.’

‘Yeah? You like boys?’ I said and winked at him.

‘No. . .no I meant. . .’ he said and blushed.

I laughed. ‘I am teasing you.’

‘I know. Sorry. You got me.’

‘You think women are different?’ I said.

He shrugged.

‘They are, right? Women are not like men,’ he said.

‘Well, in some ways not. But in many ways, yes.’

‘Of course, we are all people. People are the same,’ he said.

I tried not to stare at him too much. I wondered if he ever thought about things like gender equality.

‘Brijesh, do you know what is a feminist?’

‘Sort of. But what exactly is it?’ he said and blinked his eyes. He genuinely didn’t seem to know.

‘You haven’t heard the word “feminist”?’

‘Of course I have. I sort of know what it is. Equal rights for women, right? Is that the definition?’