28. Danish Roy

The day was finally here.

  Tonight was the big party. Aisha's eighteenth birthday, and I was looking forward to not being a paedophile any more. After she turned eighteen, the only little technicality between me telling her how kind and awesome she was, was the student–teacher thing. So now, it was only illegal. That and Vibhor, the tree.

  She seemed happy the days following her and Vibhor's first date. She didn't give me any details of her date or their ensuing relationship, which the entire school was talking about and I didn't ask. I had seen the guy come to school in four different cars, heard he had plenty of experience with girls, so I knew for a fact he knew how to show a girl a good time. Such was my life, being insecure of boys half a decade younger. But I had an important role to play in their relationship. Early that morning, Aisha had called to ask me to come with her to select a dress. I had no idea what made her think I was an expert on birthday dresses.

  'So? What are we aiming for?' I asked as she dragged me to Forever 21.

  'If this were the last time I was stepping out in public, what should I be in? That's the theme. It's a strictly no-pyjama party,' she said and she walked swiftly through the racks, rejecting reasonably beautiful clothes. 'What about this?' She picked a sparkling silver dress and put it front of herself.

  I wanted to tell her she would look beautiful in anything she wore because it wasn't the clothes or the make-up or her hair which made her attractive, it was her heart, it was who she was, smart and fun. Of late, she had been telling me of all these books she had been reading, and my heart had jumped because the books she liked the most were my favourites too. Maybe that's what love should be about; two people who love the same books. But what struck me was her understanding of the characters, their problems, their stories—it all affected her in a way that she wanted to change herself, apply it in real life. That's what a good book should do. Make you reflect and make a positive change, and she followed this like a religion. Far better than I have ever done.

  'You will look beautiful,' I said.

  She disappeared into the fitting room with that dress.

  'I don't know what to say. Vibhor would fall in love with you today if he hasn't already,' I said when she emerged, twirling in that little dress. She smiled that smile of hers which I had so come to love.

  'What do you think? Not Vibhor, you!'

  'Does it matter?' I asked, not wanting things to get awkward.

  'It does.'

  'Why?'

  'What you think of me matters to me. You made parts of me. Take some responsibility for what you created and tell me what you think?'

  I was tired of being always put in a spot by a seventeen-, going on eighteen, year-old girl.

  'Ummm . . . you look like sunshine to me, well, technically you are more like moonlight because you are wearing silver but I don't think anyone's going to notice the dress or your body, and if they do, it's their fault because it's what's deep inside that body and that face is what people should see, something I have seen and come to like so much in you. You're like a slate, Aisha. You learn every day and write stuff on yourself, trying to be better, and wipe it clean and learn some more. Yes, I love your eyes—they are black and deep and almond-shaped but I see the kindness in those eyes I have never seen before, and yes, I love your lips but not because they are the most perfect grape-toned lips ever but because of the words you choose, the things you say and the ones you don't. And that face, that beautiful face, it radiates happiness and love and generosity. So I don't really know how the dress looks on you, but I do know that you're beautiful.'

  I said and waited for her to realize, rather embarrassingly for herself and for me, that I was in love with this eighteen-year-old girl. She just stared at me and I could feel a sexual harassment suit hang above me like a naked sword.

  Finally she spoke, 'You're awfully good at your job. Do you say that to every loser student of yours?'

  It was an escape route and I took it. I nodded and smiled. I wasn't sure whether to feel happy or sad at her complete misreading of the situation so I played along. 'It's in all the training books.'

  'Come, let's get you something!' she said and grabbed me by my hand. We paid at the cashier's and she kept wearing the dress while we looked for what I was supposed to wear.

  'I have something to wear,' I said.

  'My birthday, my rules.'

  'What do you want me to wear on your birthday party?'

  'You always ask the right questions. Your girlfriend must be the happiest in the entire world.'

  Yeah, right. My girlfriend is probably staring at her phone in some part of her world, unmindful of my existence.

  *

  Thanks to my pathetic driving, I reached back home late, already dreading going to a kids' party. Just as I stepped out of the car, I felt a fist land square on my face, my jaw shattered, and I doubled up on the ground in pain. My head rang and I think I almost passed out.

  'Fuck you!' a voice shouted in my ear. My blurred vision cleared and I saw a face I recognized from somewhere. I wanted to dole out my wallet, my watch, the car keys and surrender but the guy said, 'Stay away from Aisha, do you hear me?'

  And that's when it struck me. He was Sarthak, the estranged brother, the thrower of parties.

  'What the hell are you talking about?'

  'Sir, I know you have been going out with my sister.'

  'That's a hell of way to introduce yourself to your Sir?' I said and staggered to my feet. My jaw alternated between being numb and on fire.

  'Sir, stay away from her or I will inform the school authorities. Vibhor and Aisha are good for each other. He will take care of her. So just stay off her.' His hands were up again, and he resembled an impoverished Sylvester Stallone from the early Rocky movies. I was in no doubt that he could hit me again and this time I would flatline.

  I put my hands up in surrender and spoke, 'Hey? Sarthak, that's what your name is, right?' He nodded. 'There's nothing between us. If anything, I'm helping out in her relationship with Vibhor.' I added after a pause. 'As a student counsellor.'

  'But you were out—'

  'She asked me to. He's her first boyfriend. No experience.'

  'Oh.'

  He lowered his hands, the rage on his face changed to guilt and he helped me to the pavement, checked my nose, offered me his handkerchief and apolo 

gized profusely. 'I didn't know. I'm sorry. I didn't know what I was doing. I won't be around for long so I thought I would . . .'

  'Won't be around?'

  He thought before speaking. 'Is there something as a student–counsellor confidentiality like lawyers?'

  'Yes, of course there is,' I lied, remembering what Aisha had mentioned once.

  'And counsellors follow it?'

  'The rules are very strict about that kind of thing. I could lose my job,' I said, still struggling for my breath. I needed to get myself checked for a concussion.

  'I'm leaving Delhi for further studies.'

  I wanted to say 'So what?', but I remembered they shared a dying mother. 'Oh. Where are you going?'

  'Poland.'

  'What! Poland? How—'

  'It's a scholarship. Don't tell her.'

  'I won't. But why aren't you telling her?'

  'They won't let me leave. I mean they will but I wouldn't be able to leave them.'

  'So you're eloping for further studies? That's a first.'

  'Yes, sir.' His phone beeped. 'Sir, I should go. Some last minute arrangements. And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I . . . I just acted out.'

  'You need to tell her, Sarthak. And you need to talk to your sister,' I said.

  He nodded though it didn't seem like he would follow through on it. We shook hands, he apologized a few more times, and I waved down an auto for him. He left.

  My nose still bled.