Chapter 19
A Nice Plan
I casually stroll down the sidewalk on my way to the convenience store, ‘Ezeebuy’. Inside, I pick out a writing pad and a transparent pencil case, for the upcoming half-yearly exams. I’m paying at the counter when Aravind walks in.
He jumps. So do I. “Jay! I didn’t know you were here.”
“Me neither,” I murmur.
Aravind sets a Trimax gel pen on the counter while the employee packs my stuff in a brown bag. I’m quiet for the most part. Despite everything that’s happened, we haven’t really talked much since Independence Day.
We both walk out of the store, and Aravind unlocks his bike from one of the poles.
“So, um…” Aravind looks at me, then back at the ground. “Want to walk to your apartment together? I can drag my cycle behind.”
I slightly blush. “Sure.”
Aravind hoists his bike on the sidewalk and drags it behind him, the chain click-clacking with our steps.
I try to start a conversation. “Ruchi’s in Punjab for the holidays now, huh?”
He chuckles. “Yep. She’s complaining about all the ‘proper behaviour’ she has to show because of her dad’s side of the family.”
Aravind’s not wrong. Ruchi’s parents may have been convinced that Ruchi needs her freedom, but her grandparents? Not so much.
We both walk in silence for some time. Aravind opens his mouth the same time I do.
“So I was thinking—“ he begins.
“I feel like—“ I say.
We laugh.
“You go first,” I offer.
Aravind shrugs, looking at the bell on his bike. “I was saying that we don’t hang out much. What I mean is, Ruchi’s always there, and it’s cool, but… we haven’t really spent time together… just the two of us.”
My face feels warmer by the second.
“You, uh, think so?” My voice is low. Vulnerable.
Aravind looks up, meets my eyes. “Yeah.”
We step over stray dogs sleeping on the pavement. Aravind carefully wheels his bike around them. I don’t know where this is going, but there are hints so subtle I’m afraid I could be misunderstanding them.
“So.” Aravind takes a breath. “I was thinking to repeat my mom’s invitation for you guys to come over. And, before you say no, my mom has already talked to your mom and it’s mostly pukka. I just wanted to let you know.”
“Why would I say no?” I ask.
“You could be busy that day.” He sighs. “Or maybe because of…”
Gagan.
We reach Caldera’s gate. Before I go, I turn to him again.
“I’ll come. And don’t consider it an obligation. I want to come because… because I want to hang out with you.”
Aravind smiles wide, and his eyes even twinkle. I smile back. And as he hoists on his bike and pedals away, I can hear him humming under his breath. Not much, but it’s something.
My text-conversation with Ruchi that night:
Jay: m hanging out w/Aravind tmrw. At his house!
Ruchi: 😄 Sweet! First date!
Jay: I… wouldn’t call it that. Our moms are gonna be there. Ntm Nani.
Ruchi: OK, so first date w/ur folks around. Still not bad!
Jay: don’t push it.
Ruchi: lol k. think he likes u back?
Jay: Is he even into guys?
Ruchi: The younger me would’ve said no, but after everything I’ve learned about the LGBTQ+ community, I’m not really sure.
Jay: Huh. Well, he’s seemed like it once or 2ice. I THINK.
Ruchi: ooooohhhhhh
Jay: shut up!
Ruchi: Someone’s touchy.
Jay: So how’s Punjab?
Ruchi: groan. So bad. I can’t even hang w/my cousins. They’re all three older guys, and since I’m the only girl, I have to stay inside the house.
Jay: That must suck.
Ruchi: Yeah. M even secretly tryna text u because my dadi will start listening in to every call I’m on.
Jay: ugh! hv you told her how u feel?
Ruchi: Can’t. She wants me 2 keep my mouth shut and ‘do what’s been told’.
Jay: well, fingers crossed 4u.
Ruchi: and 4u2, bud. 🤞
Chapter 20
First Date
I ring the bell next to the oak door, which is decorated with a single shiny red om sign. We’re in block A, Purva Adarsh Apartments. I hop up and down a little, feeling jumpy and excited and nervous all at once. Nani, on my right, pats my shoulder, and I calm down.
Mom, on my other side, leans in. “First time he actually showered twice in one day—and put on a perfume too.”
“A good impression goes a long way. You cannot blame him for trying to impress Aravind.” Nani’s mischievous grin already has my ears burning.
“Okay, can we, like, not talk about me liking him when we’re in?” I say. Better not embarrass myself—especially in front of his folks.
The door opens, and Ishani Aunty’s smiling face peeks out from behind.
“Welcome, welcome! Come in—arey, arey, jutey ke sath andar aa jao, it’s okay!”
I still dutifully remove my sneakers and step inside the sparsely furnished home. Aravind’s on the couch, and he gets up and smiles when we come in.
We settle down in the living room and there’s the usual introduction, then the conversation turns to our school and stuff at home. When things become serious, Aravind beckons me to follow him into the hall.
We go inside his room, a neatly laden space, with a bed against the wall, a study desk and chair, and wall-fixed cupboards like mine. There’s even a TV attached to a wall.
Aravind sets a Ludo board on the bed. “Do you like our home?”
I grin. “It’s really nice.” I toss the dice and get a six on the first try.
Aravind chuckles. “Looks like luck is on your side.”
As we play, I stare at the photos on his walls. He’s got a lot of them. Some are cute baby pictures and toddler moments frozen in time. Others are of his parents, and his brother. The Raichands, on a trip to Singapore. Out in the Rajasthan desert. At Aravind’s and Gagan’s birthday parties. My eye catches a snapshot of Gagan in his camouflage uniform, standing outside Singh Books with his arms around ten-year-old Ruchi and Aravind.
Despite my strong start in the game, Aravind wins. We play a few more rounds, then he suggests rehearsing for Radio Friday next week.
“But I don’t have my guitar,” I say.
Aravind taps his chin, then gets up from the bed. “I can help with that.” He leaves the room and returns a few minutes later with an acoustic guitar in his hands. I stare at the light hardwood, then back at him.
“My dad plays sometimes. He tried to teach me, but I never got the hang of it.” Aravind places it in front of me. “I’ll be right back.”
When he leaves, I pick the guitar up and start tuning it. I pluck a few strings, twist the knob, check again. I glance back at the knobs, then notice it. The initials ‘G.R’. written in black permanent marker, which haven’t faded one bit.
The guitar suddenly feels heavy in my hands. I place it back down and try to swallow the lump that’s forming in my throat.
Aravind reappears in the doorway. “How’s it?”
I keep looking at the guitar. At the floral bedsheets. At my hands. Anywhere but him.
He sits next to me. “What happened?”
“You didn’t tell me this was Gagan’s guitar.” My voice cracks.
He doesn’t say anything. He slowly picks up the guitar, feeling the strings and running a hand over the marker ink.
“I haven’t brought this out in two years,” he says quietly. “It was covered with so much dust when I took it to my dad. He helped me clean it, and it looked like it was just yesterday when Bhaiya bought it. You were coming over. I wanted to keep it ready so that you could play it.”
Slowly, I raise my head to look at him. The heavy eyes, ones which ran out of tears back on Independence Day, are back. He picks at each string, the notes echoing softly in the room.
He places the guitar back in my hands. Our fingers brush, sending a small shock through my veins.
“Please. Play something,” he whispers.
I can’t refuse, even if I feel horrible about it. I settle the guitar in my lap, left hand on the neck, right hand holding the pick. I play a tune, one Aravind is somehow familiar with. He starts to sing.
“You never know how good you have it
Until you're starin' at a picture of the only girl that matters, yeah
I know what we're supposed to do
It's hard for me to let go of you
So I'm just tryna hold on—“
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nani, Mom, and Ishani Aunty in the doorway, silently listening. Aunty sees the guitar and bursts into tears.
Aravind continues singing the sad song:
“Hold on
I don't wanna know what it's like when you're gone
I don't wanna move on
I don't wanna know what it's like when you're gone for good
You're slipping through my fingertips
A little bit by a little bit
I didn't know that loving you was the happiest I've ever been
So I'm just tryna hold on…”
Chapter 21
One More Weird Thing
It’s the school PTM today. Mom is pacing outside my classroom, and I bounce on my heels, shifting weight from one foot to another. When Ruchi appears with Chanchal Aunty, Rachit Uncle and Charu, I run over to her.
“They’re speaking to Ishita Sehgal now. I guess my turn’s up in a few,” I say.
She sighs. “That long? Maybe I should’ve come late. I had to be here early for Charu’s, anyway.” The juniors weren’t spared the ordeal of the parent-teacher meet.
“Is Aravind coming?” I ask.
“He already left.”
Oh. Right. A names are first. I sigh, disheartened. Then, the student volunteer calls my name. Mom and I walk inside my class.
Shalini Ma’am and Anika Ma’am, the Sanskrit teacher and associate class teacher, welcome us. We sit in chairs in front of them.
Shalini Ma’am smiles at Mom. “Will your husband be joining us as well?”
I wait for the usual story Mom gives, and the sympathy looks from both teachers, and then directly skipping to my grades and behaviour and whatnot. But that never comes. Instead, Mom checks her watch and laughs nervously.
“Oh, I think he’s a little late. He had work today, but I’m sure he’ll come soon.”
“Mom!” I turn to her.
She gives me a scolding look. “Jay! We’re in school. Behave.”
“Yeah, but why are we lying about Dad?” I retort.
Mom smiles apologetically. “Excuse us.”
We go to the back of the room. As the teachers talk to the next student, Krish Reddy, I angrily whisper-yell at Mom.
“Why haven’t we been honest about Dad?”
Mom sighs. “Jay—“
“We never had to lie or hide in America. Why here? Why now?”
“They don’t understand.”
Silence. “What do you mean, Mom?” I ask.
She exhales shakily. “In India, a single mother—it’s rare. It’s disgraceful to a daughter’s family, according to many. Dead, divorced, anything. It’s just not—“
“Usual? Conventional? Right?”
Tears prick at her eyes. “In America, they never ask these questions. No casual sexism. Nothing.”
“But here, it’s a different story,” I finish.
We’re quiet for a few moments. Then, I grab Mom’s hand.
“They think it’s weird that I’m gay. They think it’s weird we’re American. So, it’s just one more weird thing for them to think about. It won’t change anything for us. Right?” I prompt.
She smiles a little. “Right.”
“Dad wanted to come back. But I don’t think he’d want us changing our morals. If a bunch of old fogeys dislike us, so what? We’re still alright. And we have Nani.”
She squeezes my hand and nods. “Chalo. Let’s go and meet your teachers.”
When Krish is done, we sit back down in front of Shalini Ma’am and Anika Ma’am.
“I apologise for the interruption,” Mom says.
“Ah, teenagers have their tantrums, don’t they?” Shalini Ma’am fake-smiles. Mom notices that and chuckles dryly.
“I’m afraid this one was necessary, however. Ma’am, my husband actually passed away in a car crash when Jay was a year old. He told me that one day we’d go back to India. We never got to act on it and do it, until now, when I truly decided to leave America. Rushil has been watching and rooting for us in spirit. This move has been hard on Jay, I agree. He has had difficulty adjusting to the cultural change. But I assure you, my son is a smart young man who upholds his family’s and his community’s ideals. Coming here has not changed that at all.”
From the look on Shalini Ma’am’s face, I can tell all her grievances about me have disappeared already. Anika Ma’am, on the other hand, pats Mom’s hand kindly. She used to be Mom’s teacher back when she was a student.
“We are truly sorry to hear about your husband. And you need not worry about Jay. He has adjusted very well, and has earned the friendship of amazing students like Ruchi and Aravind. He may be different from everyone around him, Nitara, but I can tell he feels at home here very much,” Ma’am says.
Mom smiles, relieved. “I was worried, initially. But with your kind words and guidance, Ma’am, I feel truly blessed to have Jay in this school, like myself.”
Shalini Ma’am opens her folder. “According to all the teachers, Jay is a fine student, academically strong, even when he required to start over from the basics in Hindi. He’s also very enthusiastic and lively and his extracurricular activities, like the rock band of Underdogs, have earned him merit.”
I grin. Even Shalini Ma’am’s happy with me. Not a bad half of the school year!
We leave, and outside, Mom gives me a big hug.
“Uh, Mom?” My voice is muffled in her jacket. “Are you alright?”
She pulls back and tousles my hair a bit. “I’m proud of you, beta.”
I smile. “You’ve got nothing to be worried about, Mom. I’m gonna be alright.”
Chapter 22
Diwali Delights
My hands folded in prayer, I bow my head and listen to Nani quietly chant the mantras as Mom sets the offerings in front of the idols for Diwali. As much pious and revered I seem towards Ram, Sita and Lakshman, I’m also itching to go and burst firecrackers with Ruchi and Charu.
Nani puts tika on our foreheads and then the puja is done. I rush outside, hurriedly pulling on my sneakers and grabbing a wayward pack of phuljadis near the couch. When I’m already in the playground, I groan. Charu and the rest of the Singhs had started without me.
Diwali was a festival I had been excited for ever since I came to India. It could never be possible in New York. People would have a problem with louder firecrackers in a city that’s already super noisy.
Charu gives me a gap-toothed grin. He’s wearing a bright maroon kurta. “You’re here!”
I laugh as I light a phuljadi and watch it sparkle to life. “Where’s Ruchi?” I gently swing it round and round.
He shrugs. “She’s not a Diwali person.”
I frown. Who isn’t? And Ruchi, of all people? She’s the one who convinced me Diwali’s awesome.
I light a chakri and other contraptions with Charu and the other little kids, but my mind keeps going back to Ruchi. She’s probably at home all alone, not enjoying. Maybe I’ll ask her to join.
I carefully hand my phuljadi to a little pigtailed girl wearing a shimmery pink lehenga, and start up the steps to Ruchi’s flat. When I ring the bell, she opens the door, and pulls out cotton wool from her ears. She’s dressed in a light yellow kurti, but it doesn’t look like she’s coming down.
“Oh, hey,” she says.
“You aren’t coming?” I ask.
“Where to?”
“To set off fireworks or light phuljadis? It’s Diwali, remember?”
“I know.” Her voice sounds strained.
“Is everything alright?” I ask.
She ushers me in. “Tsk, mosquitoes.” She closes the door and starts hunting for said bugs.
“I asked you a question,” I point out.
“And I heard you.” She turns to me. “I just don’t like… loud things. Not my cup of tea.”
“That’s new.” I grin. “The girl who loves to make some noise doesn’t like noise.”
She smiles a bit and rolls her eyes. “Only when it’s directed at me, like a missile. I don’t like the sounds of fireworks and aloo bombs and all that. I prefer staying at home, and lighting diyas.”
She gestures outside, and I can see the earthen oil lamps glimmering along the bottom of her balcony.
“But you can’t just sit here all alone,” I say.
“Ammi’s in the kitchen making food. She’s not a huge fan either.”
“Still.” I pause. “How about I hang with you? Maybe even a game of Risk could do.”
She groans. “I can’t even play it.”
We sit on the couch.
“I can tell you a story, though,” she says.
I shrug. “What’s it about?”
She grins slyly. “Someone you looove.”
“Okay, shut up.” I blush.
Ruchi laughs. “I’m kidding. Well, I’m serious about the story. It’s about how Aravind and I met.”
I sit forward. This I had been wanting to hear.
“Yeah. I thought you’d be interested.” She smirks, then begins.
Chapter 23
A Long Time Ago
Ruchi clutched Ammi’s hand tightly as she was led inside the nursery class.
“You’ll be just fine. Try to make some friends, okay, beta?” Ammi gave her a hug and planted a kiss on her forehead, then waved goodbye.
As Ruchi looked around the room, she watched the children milling around. Some picked up toys nearby. Some were crying for their parents. Others just sat and stared, like her.
Ruchi’s eyes drifted over to a bespectacled boy pulling out a picture book from the shelf, Where The Wild Things Are, Ruchi’s favourite. She would stare at the illustrations all day whenever Appu brought it home from the bookstore.
She walked over to him. He had already started reading, in that way three-year-olds pretended to read. She sat next to him.
“Can I read too?” She pointed to the page.
He blinked back at her, then placed the book between them. They flipped through the pictures, tracing the outlines of the monsters. Only Ruchi was the one talking, babbling away about the creatures, but that was okay. The boy listened to her intently, eyes focused on the sketches and colours. They never paid attention to the class, or the teacher, that’s for sure.
“What’s your name?” Ruchi asked the boy, when they reached the end of the book. All the talking, and she didn’t know who he was.
He looked up. He was quiet for a moment, and then whispered, “Aravind.”
They only felt comfortable around each other. Ruchi didn’t like the other prissy-looking girls. Aravind avoided the rough-looking boys. They’d pick out any picture book and stare at the illustrations together. Maybe even tried to read, but they got better at that over each passing day. Sometimes they played with the LEGO Duplo bricks and made up stories with the figurines. Ruchi provided all the voice-over.
At the end of one particularly dull schoolday, they walked out to the buses with the other little kids. On the field, the seniors from Grade 10 were playing football. Ruchi stared at one of the boys—so tall and overpowering, like a giant. He was heading toward her and Aravind.
“Hey, kiddo!” He says to Aravind. “How was school?”
Ruchi stepped back cautiously. These giants could be monsters capable of anything.
Aravind smiled at him and started talking to him in Hindi. Then, he pointed to Ruchi. “My new friend.”
Ruchi looked at the boy, who smiled at her. “I’m his brother.” He held up his hand for a high five. Ruchi considered, then grinned and slapped it.
“I’m his best friend!” She corrected playfully, in her high-pitched toddler voice.
He laughed. “I’m sure you are. See you at home, Aravind!”
That was the day Ruchi met Gagan Raichand.
From nursery till third grade, the two stayed best friends. Aravind’s academic ingenuity began to be noticed and teachers took a keen interest in him. Ruchi became his fierce protector, willing to give anyone a bloody nose if they so much as lunged for him. She filled in Gagan’s role, in a way. Then fourth grade came, and arrived Ojaswi Sen, a new student.
She seemed rather angelic, a nice girl who was polite. Ruchi was assigned to help her throughout the school year.
But somehow Ruchi had the strange feeling that Ojaswi was not who she appeared to be. She noticed how most of the girls slinked away to Ojaswi’s side, how she became popular overnight. These girls formed some sort of clique, who regularly made fun of the people outside their social circle. She knew that she was going to be next. Ojaswi had asked her plenty of times to have lunch with her group, and Ruchi always politely declined, rather deciding to keep Aravind company.
For a week, Aravind was down with viral fever and was absent, so Ruchi had been eating lunch alone. One day, Ojaswi came up to her and invited her once more. Ruchi did feel lonely during that time, and so joined the giggling group of girls from that day onwards.
A week later, Aravind came back to school. During lunch, he grabbed his bag, only to find Ruchi going with Ojaswi for lunch. Ruchi saw him, and ran to him.
“How are you?” She asked.
“Uh, hello?”
Aravind and Ruchi turned to see Ojaswi standing behind. She smirked.
“Ruchi, aren’t you coming with us?”
Silence. Ruchi looked at Aravind, then back at Ojaswi.
“I’m eating lunch with him today,” she said. “Now that he’s back.”
Ojaswi frowned. “But I thought you were eating lunch with us now.”
Ruchi felt her heartbeat quickening. Something was drastically wrong.
“You know, boys can’t be friends with girls, right? Your parents told you that. If you don’t eat with us, I’ll tell your mom.”
Ruchi’s hands balled up into fists. She was going to refuse, but then Aravind touched her shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he murmured in his soft tone. “I won’t get you in trouble.” And he hefted his lunchbag on his arm and walked out, making the decision for her.
Fifth grade rolled around, and Ruchi and Aravind no longer hung out. Ruchi only spent time with Ojaswi and her friends. She even noticed the change in her parents. They invited Ojaswi’s family over to dinner countless more times than Aravind’s. They didn’t let her make friends with anyone else, especially boys. And she barely spoke to Aravind. Sure, she asked him for homework help or to clarify a doubt, in school. But as they drifted further and further apart, Ruchi couldn’t help noticing that while she had more new friends, Aravind had none. He ate alone. He played in PT alone. He even sat in class alone. And she wasn’t the only one who felt so.
One day, Ruchi was eating lunch with the other girls, when someone tapped her on the shoulder. It was Gagan.
“What’s wrong, Bhaiya?” She asked, getting up from the circle.
He gently led her aside from the group. When they were a safe distance away, he spoke.
“Why aren’t you friends with my brother anymore?”
Ruchi looked down.
“What’s going on?”
Ruchi couldn’t help it. She burst into tears, loud blubbering ones she had worked so hard to keep inside.
“I can’t be friends with boys; otherwise my parents won’t let me be his friend anymore. He decided to end things, not me,” she hiccuped between sobs.
Gagan placed a gentle hand on her head. “It’s okay, don’t cry. I see why this wasn’t your fault.” He knelt down to meet her eyes. “Listen, Ruchi, I’m out of army training now. Soon after, I won’t be here anymore.”
She looked up at him with a start. “Where will you be going?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. I definitely won’t be posted in Bengaluru anymore. Which means you need to be there for Aravind. Be his friend. Between the two of us, we know him better than he knows himself. I want you to remind him of that every day, in any way possible. Do you promise to be by his side?”
She took a deep shuddering breath. Gagan was now a lieutenant and might be dispatched to Border Control far away any day then. And he could…
She shook her head. Don’t worry about that, he’ll be fine, she told herself.
“I promise, Bhaiya.”
When the COVID-19 pandemic hit the world, and everyone was locked up at home, doing school and office online, Ruchi stared at the photo on her phone, one of her, Gagan and Aravind, standing side-by-side in front of the bookstore, Gagan already in his army uniform.
“Lately, he’s been posted in Kashmir, I heard.” Ruchi looked up. Ammi was standing there, holding a basket of clothes.
“Ishani Aunty told me. Come, help me unload these. Then you can start your studies. Will be a nice break from sitting at that screen all day.”
Usually Ruchi detested housework, but this time she let it slide. Once all the clothes were in the washing machine, she went over to her desk and pulled out her books.
Her new phone—a rather late birthday gift, given at the need of the hour—vibrated. Must be Ojaswi requesting her to come onto a stupid call with her other stupid girlfriends. She picked it up and stared at the caller ID.
Aravind? Why would he be calling? Maybe he required some homework. But he’d have texted then. If he was calling, something must be pretty serious. She accepted the request.
“Hello?” She said.
“Ruchi. Beta.”
It was Ishani Aunty.
“Aunty, is everything okay?” Doubt and worry crept up from the pits of her heart, followed by fear.
“Beta, can you give the phone to your mother?” Aunty’s voice sounded strained. Or… heavy, even. Hoarse.
With shaking hands, Ruchi gave the phone to Ammi. Her mother listened for a few minutes. Ruchi could hear faint crying over the speaker.
Ammi’s face collapsed, and she brought a hand to her mouth, tears streaming down her face. She hung up, unable to speak.
No. No, no, no, no, no.
“Ammi,” Ruchi sputtered, vague news headlines clouding her vision. “Ammi, there was a border fight, where Bhaiya was serving. Kashmir… a—and China…”
Ammi shook her head, and sniffled. “He didn’t make it.”
No.
No.
No.
No.
Ruchi sat down on the floor, hard. Her heart felt like it was about to burst and flood the room with… everything. Everything humanely possible. The picture of the bookstore swam into view once more.
Do you promise to be by his side?
They held a small memorial service a few weeks later. Online, on Zoom. Ruchi blearily stumbled through all the proceedings, wishing there was a way the funeral could be held in person, or even the service. But Gagan’s body was buried in Delhi, and COVID case numbers had been picking up. During the entire service, she couldn’t see Aravind appear on camera at all.
When the three hours were up, Ruchi later called him. He didn’t pick up. She understood. She texted him instead:
i know u prob don’t want to hear what I’m gonna say bcoz its about bhaiya
but he asked me to promise him to be your friend even when we haven’t spoken for so long
ik a lot of ppl are saying they’ll be there for u and u may not believe them cos rlly who can?
but i hope u believe me
When eighth grade rolled around, Ruchi’s heart had healed somewhat. She wondered how much of a promise she’d kept.
She entered 8C and the new kid Jay followed her in. Her first instinct was to join him, but Ojaswi’s silky smile had been the warning she saw coming. She dropped her bag on one of the benches and headed to the little group.
As the girls eagerly discussed the new fashion collection of god knows what brand, Ruchi glanced over at the doorway, and there he was. And the grief.
She knew Aravind was always quiet and subdued, but he seemed so radically different. His cheeks looked sunken, and his face was pale, like it had lost all the colour. His downcast eyes never looked up.
She saw his eyes move around the room, and then they settled on Jay looking at the classroom in wonder. He moved to sit with him. Ruchi looked at Jay’s flustered expression, and she half-smiled when she saw the Pride flag keychain on Jay’s bag. Sometimes things were just too obvious to be coincidental. And maybe Aravind needs the change, who just happened to be the new kid. A breath of fresh air, she thought. Someone who you can look at without being reminded of the past.
She watched Jay and Aravind talk, and once again her mind drifted back to Gagan’s words.
Do you promise to be by his side?
“I’m sorry, Bhaiya,” she whispered. “I’ll let Jay be there for him. For Aravind’s good.”
Chapter 24
The Present
“But he doesn’t just need me.”
Ruchi looks up, her eyes watery.
“What do you mean?”
I take a deep breath. “You told me that day, on the bus—I oughta be his friend because I don’t remind him of his past. And now you guys may be best friends, but… he needs you too. Because no one else understood what it was like.”
She sighed, and pulled her knees up to her chin. “Maybe.”
The fireworks boom outside, and Ruchi winces. I pat her hand.
“But you and I are both keeping a promise. So we won’t have to worry.”
She smiles up at me. “That’s great.”
I lean back on the sofa, and Ruchi rests her head on my shoulder. I watch the diyas flicker outside in the dark evening.
“You know you can go outside and still enjoy Diwali, right?” She says. “You don’t need to be cooped up in here.”
I grin. “Nah. From now on, new Diwali tradition: hearing stories. And not just the myths and folklore, but actual nostalgia.”
She turns her head to look at me and smiles. “Deal.”
Comments
Post a Comment