half-girlfriend-chetan-bhagat

We had played a half-court game; I defeated her 20-9.
‘I’m hopeless,’ she said. She took a sip from her water bottle. She
wore a fitted sleeveless white top and purple shorts.
‘You’re fine. Just out of practice,’ I said.
She finished the water and shook the empty bottle. ‘I’m still
thirsty,’ she said.
‘Cafe?’ I said.
She looked at me, somewhat surprised. I kept a straight face.
‘You get good juice there,’ I said in an innocent tone.
♦
A swarm of students buzzed inside the cafeteria. Given that it was
lunch hour, it took us five minutes to get a table. They didn’t have
juice, so Riya settled for lemonade. I ordered a mince and cold coffee.
I realized both ol us had a problem initiating conversation. I couldn’t
talk because I didn’t have the confidence. She, given a choice,
preferred to be quiet. Silent Riya, I wanted to call her. I had to break
this deadlock if I wanted this to go anywhere. The waiter brought us
our food.
‘In Bihar, we have aloo chop, in which we sometimes stuff keema.
This mince is the same,’ I said.
‘What’s Bihar like? I’ve never been there,’ she said and pursed her
lips around the straw to sip her lemonade.
‘Not like Delhi. Simple. Lots of rice fields. Peaceful, apart from
cities like Patna.’
‘I like peaceful places,’ she said.
‘There are problems, too. People aren’t educated. There’s violence.
I am sure you’ve heard. Poor and backward state, as people say.’
‘You can be rich and backward, too.’
We had an awkward silence for two minutes. Silent Riya and
Scared Madhav.
Break the deadlock, I told myself.
‘So you live with your family in Delhi?’
‘Yes. A big one. Parents, uncles, cousins and a brother.’