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placing my hand on yours,’ I said. I didn’t want my stupid
    move to backfire.
    ‘When?’
    ‘During the movie.You know, I...’
    ‘I don’t even remember that,’ she said, interrupting me.
    ‘Oh,’ I said, and felt a wave of relief run through me. ‘Then why
    do you look upset?’
    ‘Never mind,’ she said. Silent Riya’s typical response. She brushed
    aiide strands of hair from her face.
    ‘Why don’t you ever tell me anything?’ I said, my voice a mixture
    of plea and protest.
    She finished her milkshake and placed the empty bottle on a
    table.‘Ready to go?’ she said instead.
    ‘Riya, we never talk about you. Am I only good enough to play
    basketball with?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘We meet, play, eat and talk. But you never share anything
    important with me.’
    ‘I don’t share much about my life with anyone, Madhav.’
    ‘Am I just anyone?’
    A waiter arrived to collect the empty bottles. She spoke only after
    lie left.‘You are a friend.’
    ‘So?’
    ‘So what? I have many friends. I don’t share stuff with them.’
    ‘Am I just like every other friend of yours? Is there nothing special
    about me?’
    She smiled. ‘Well, you do play basketball better than anyone else.’
    I stood up. I didn’t find her funny.
    ‘Hey, wait.’ Riya pulled me down again.
    I sat down with a stern expression.
    ‘Why do you want to know about my life?’ she said.
    ‘It matters to me. Unlike your other friends, I can tell if something
    is bothering you. And, if something is bothering you, it bothers me. I
    want to know things about you, okay? But getting you to talk is like a
    dentist pulling teeth.’
    She laughed and interrupted my rant.
    ‘I have a fucked-up family. What do you want to know?’ she said.
    I looked at her, puzzled and astonished at her choice of words.
    More than anything, I could not associate any family with a BMW
    to be fucked up.
    Her eyes met mine, perhaps for a final check to see if I deserved
    her trust. ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ she said.
    *
    Her plush car dropped us off at India Gate. The soft evening sun
    cast long shadows of the monument and of us on the red sandstone
    pavement. We walked the mile-long distance ail the way up to
    Rashtrapati Bhavan. On these roads, far away from Bihar, India did
    not come across as a poor country. Pigeons flocked the sky and
    government babus from nearby offices scurried about, both trying to
    reach home before it got dark.
    We walked together. At least our shadows appeared to hold hands.
    ‘I don’t open up to people. At most I keep a journal, and even that
    is rare. You know I’m a quiet person,’ Riya said.
    ‘I understand.’
    ‘Thanks. The problem is my family. They’re obsessed with money.
    I’m not.’
    ‘That’s a good thing, right?’
    ‘I don’t know. Also, I don’t matter. My brothers do, because they
    will take over the business one day. I’m supposed to shut up, get
    married and leave. The high point of my life is to have kids and shop.’
    ‘And that’s not what you want to do?’
    ‘No!’ she almost shouted. ‘You know me better than that. Don’t
    you?’
    ‘Sorry.’
    ‘Sucks being a girl in this country, I tell you. Sucks.’
    ‘You seem upset. Did something happen today?’
    ‘I told them I want to study music after college. They want me to
    marry into some rich Marwari family and live like a queen. I don’t
    want to live like a queen. That is not what I dream of.’
    ‘Trust me, kings and queens are overrated,’ I said.
    She remained silent.
    ‘What do you want, Riya? Do you have a dream?’
    'Well, dreams suck.You get attached to them and they don’t come
    true.'
    ’Sometimes they do.’
    ‘Not in my case.’
    'What is your dream?’ I asked again.
    She looked at me. ‘You’ll laugh.’
    ‘Try me.’
    Site smiled.‘Okay, so, I have this dream. I want to play music and
    sing...in a bar in New York.’
    'Wow.’
    'What? You think it’s stupid, right?’
    No. That’s quite specific. Singing