Chapter 17

'Yeah. But if they do, then see you. Else, bye.'

She walked away. I realized I didn't even know her full name. As

she became more distant with every step, I wanted nothing more than

to get admission to St. Stephen's. '

I walked up to Piyush.

'You cracked it. On fire on the court, huh?' he said.

'Sir, but the interview... My English—'

'Sucked,

' he said.

Disappointment slammed into me. His expression suggested

'sucked'meant something nasty.

'But you play bloody good basketball,

' Piyush continued. He patted

my back and walked away.

I stood alone in the middle of the basketball court. Everyone else

had left. I saw the brick-coloured buildings and the greenery around

me.

Is this place in my destiny? I wondered. Well, it wasn't just about

my destiny. It was our destiny.

That is why, one month later, a postman came to my doorstep in

Dumraon with a letter from St. Stephen's College. He also wanted a

big tip.

'Hey,

'she said. Her perky voice startled me; I had been scanning

the college noticeboard.

I turned around. I had prayed for this to happen. She and I had

both made it.

She wore black, skin-tight jeans and a black-and-white striped i

lurt. Without the sweat and grime from court, her face glowed. She

had translucent pink lip gloss on, with tiny glittery bits on her lips. Her

hair, slightly wavy, came all the way down to her waist. Her long

lingers looked delicate, hiding the power they had displayed on court.

My heart was in my mouth. Ever since I had got my admission letter, I

had been waiting for the month before college opened to pass quickly

and to find out if Riya had made it too.

'Riya,

'she said. 'You remember, right?'

Did I remember? I wanted to tell her I had not forgotten her for

one moment since I left Delhi. I wanted to tell her I had never seen a

girl more beautiful than her. I wanted to tell her that the oxygen flow

to my lungs had stopped.

'Of course,

'I said. 'Glad you joined.'

'I wasn't sure, actually,

'she said and pointed to the noticeboard.'Is

that the first-year timetable?'

I nodded. She smiled at me again.

'What's your course?'she asked, her eyes on the noticeboard.

'Sociology,

'I said.

'Oh, intellectual,

'she said.

I didn't know what that meant. However, she laughed and I

guessed it was something funny, so I laughed along. The noticeboard

also had a bunch of stapled sheets with the names of all first-year

students and their new roll numbers