half-girlfriend-chetan-bhagat

even Hindi. He meant: will you play like this? Is it a trial or a joke?
I regretted knowing him.
‘I...I...’
Then R interrupted. ‘Oh, you are also sports quota?’
Piyush looked at both of us, surprised at the familiarity.
‘Yes,’ I said, one of the few English responses I could give with
confidence.
‘State-level player. Watch this Bihari’s game and go,’ Piyush said
and guffawed before he left.
I could have taken offence. He had used the word ‘Bihari’ as if to
say 'Watch, even this poor little Bihari can play’, despite being a Bihari
himself. However, he had helped me without knowing it, so I was
grateful. She looked at me and smiled.
‘No wonder you gave those tips.’ she said.‘State level, my God,’
‘What is your good name?’ I blurted out, without any context or
sense of timing. Also, who on earth says ‘good name’ these days? Only
losers like me who translate ‘shubh naarn’ in Hindi to English.
‘Good or bad, only one name. Riya,’ she said and smiled.
Riya. I loved her short little name. Or maybe when you start liking
people, you start liking everything about them—from their sweaty
eyebrows to their little names.
‘Your name?’she said. For the first time in my life a girl had asked
my name.
‘Myself Madhav Jha.’
That was my reflexive response. It was only later that I learnt that
people who construct sentences like that sound low class.You see, we
think in Hindi first and simply translate our thoughts, word for word.
‘From Bihar,’ she said and laughed. ‘Right?’
She didn’t laugh because I was a Bihari. She laughed because
Piyush had already revealed that fact about me. There was no
judgement in her voice. I liked her more and more every second.
‘Yes.You?’
‘From Delhi itself.’