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in a bar in New York.’
    'Yes.That’s it. I don’t want to be a famous singer or a rock star. I
    don’t want to marry a billionaire. I just want to sing in peace,
    surrounded by passionate people. I want to own a house in Manhattan,
    my house, filled with books and music CDs. I want to play basketball on weekends. I don’t want to check out a dozen lehengas for my
    engagement.’
    'Sounds like you have it all figured out.’
    ‘Not really. Maybe it’s just an escapist fantasy. But I have had it
    since I was twelve. We had gone to New York. The city blew me away.
    I saw people who loved what they did. They weren’t rich, but happy.
    And there was this lady in a bar.. .she sang from her heart, unaware of
    everything around her.’
    The sun was setting, and the sky turned from orange to dark grey.
    We had now reached the point near Rashtrapati Bhavan where Delhi
    Police guards tell you to stop and turn around. She continued to tell
    me about her New York trip.
    ‘In fact, I took up basketball because I saw an NBA game live at
    Madison Square Garden in New York.’
    ‘You’ve seen an NBA game live?’ I said.
    ‘Yeah.The atmosphere.. .it’s electric.You should see one sometime,
    Madhav.’
    I shrugged. ‘Anyway, I like your dream, Riya,’ I said. ‘It’s doable,
    not unreal.’
    ‘Unreal, like?’ she said.
    ‘Like becoming a top actress or the prime minister. You just want
    something simple.’
    She smiled. ‘Nothing is simple for a girl in a family like mine,’ she
    said.
    We walked in silence for a few minutes.
    ‘I feel better,’ she said after a while. '
    ‘What?’
    She looked at me. The last of the daylight tinted her face orange,
    making her look ethereal. I wanted to give her a hug.
    ‘I feel better after talking to you.Thanks,’ she smiled.
    The sun vanished and the road became dark. Her skin glowed in
    the amber lights of Rajpath, I took a chance and held her hand.
    ‘Another accident?’ she said, but did not pull her hand away.
    We laughed together. She spoke again. ‘Even my uncles are the
    same. Everyone sides with my parents.’
    She continued to talk and I continued to listen, even though my
    entire attention was on how lovely her hand felt in mine.
    5
    Alter our movie date, we started to spend even more time together.
    During lunch break, we would sit on the college lawns and eat home-
    cooked food from her house. She brought an elaborate Marwari thali
    in a three-tiered tiffin box.
    ‘How’s the food in the rez?’ she said.
    ‘Not as good as the Somani Cafe,’ I said.
    We sat facing the red-brick college building. The winter sun
    warmed us as well as her cold tiffin box. I ate three of her four
    chapatis, and most of the paalak-daal along with it. She never touched
    the sweet churma. I ate it with a plastic spoon.
    ‘How’s your room?’ she said.
    ‘Like any other rez room. Basic. Books, Basketballs and bed linen.’
    ‘Do you keep it clean?’
    I shook my head and grinned.
    ‘What? You don’t clean it regularly?’
    ‘Once a week.’
    ‘Awful.’
    ‘I don’t have six servants like you do, Miss Riya.’
    ‘I want to see your room.’
    ‘You can’t,’ I said.‘Girls are not allowed.’
    ‘I know. Just kidding,’ she laughed.
    ‘Hows your family?’ I said.
    ‘Same. My brothers, male cousins and uncles are busy planning
    how to increase their wealth. The women are gushing over their last
    shopping trip or figuring out which marriage to attend next.’
    ‘Good, everything is normal then,’ I said.
    ‘I bought a guitar,’ she said.
    ‘Nice.’
    ‘Yeah, I barely talk to anyone at home. Me and my guitar, we’re
    happy.’
    ‘You talk to me,’ I said.
    ‘Even though you eat all my lunch,’ she said and smacked the side
    of my head.
    ‘Do you like me?’ I said. She had heard this too many times.
    ‘Not again, Madhav, please.’
    She lay down on the grass. She wore a white-and-maroon salwar-
    kameez and a black cashmere cardigan, which she had removed