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‘It’s table tennis. No one gives a shit
about TT.’ The way Dhruv said it, it felt
like he did give a shit. ‘And will you
stop obsessing over her? She’s nobody.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really,’ growled Dhruv.
They didn’t make out that day. Dhruv
said he had to study and left Ritika
thinking about Aranya, which she did
with abandon in her free time. Since that
day Ritika noticed the accidental but
carefully orchestrated glances Dhruv
threw at Aranya, who was being a
curious mix of Mother Teresa and
Cruella de Vil, strict and kind; friendly
and professional. She had noticed the
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hatred in Dhruv’s voice whenever they
talked about Aranya, which they had
started doing a lot these days, and it
bothered her. Dhruv would keep talking
about how fucking populist Aranya was,
a total attention whore, an average-
looking girl seeking validation by being
extra sweet, extra hard-working,
needlessly intelligent. His words were
harsher when he put Raghuvir and
Aranya in a sentence, and he would find
reasons to bunk Raghuvir’s classes.
‘You’re overthinking,’ Dhruv would
say when she mentioned his obsession
and wrap his arms around Ritika.
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But that didn’t stop Dhruv from
staring at her like she was a specimen,
an alien, disgusting maybe, but also
intriguing. She hated Aranya with a
vengeance, and so did Dhruv, but the
nature of their hatred was quite different.
I Love u Rachu
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36
The tables had turned since the Temple
Run incident.
Aranya walked the corridors of DTU
like she was the reigning queen, and the
rest lowly courtiers. Dhruv could have
learned to live with that. But he always
felt everything Aranya did was to spite
him, to tell him that she would always be
the puppeteer, manipulating his life.
Sometimes he felt like she laughed at
how stupid he was to be in love and
continue to be in love with her.
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The little smirks she threw in Dhruv’s
direction were far too many to be
coincidental. If only she was a boy, he
would have him called out, lodged a
right hook into his ribcage and then
smashed his face with a quick elbow
move.
But now Dhruv was prepared.
The countless nights spent with
Sanchit were about to pay off when he
would crush the mid-semester
examinations and he would show Aranya
that her presence meant shit to him. That
he would happily crush her over and
over again.
He was sitting on the last desk,
smiling in Aranya’s direction who, with
her back towards him, was revising.
Ritika shot him a look but he ignored it.
Lately, she had started throwing a fit at
the littlest of pretexts. Dhruv would try
to explain to her what was really going
on but Ritika wouldn’t get it. He wasn’t
sure if even he got it.
The bell rang and the exam started. It
was going to be a cakewalk. He marked
out all the questions that were easy
pickings and solved them within the first
two hours of the exam. Then he sat back
and sighed, flipping proudly through his
answer sheet. He had managed a
constant neat handwriting throughout the
answer sheet.
‘Sir! Extra sheet!’ shouted Aranya.
Dhruv was still to use the last three
pages of his answer booklet. He
frowned.
‘Me, too!’ shouted Dhruv. Ritika who
had finished whatever she knew within
the first hour and now was dozing off
looked in his direction, shocked. This
happened three more times. Dhruv’s
answer booklet was glaringly empty
now.
But Dhruv didn’t know what to do
with the answer sheet. The two
questions he hadn’t answered till now
were from chapters he had chosen to
leave out. He fished his cellphone out
from his pocket and fired it up, taking
care no one noticed. Over texts, Sanchit
and he decided to meet in the boys’
washroom.
Just before he could ask permission to
go, Aranya asked if she could go and
Dhruv slunk back into his seat. He
waited fifteen minutes for the invigilator
to busy himself and forget about the
missing girl and then asked if he could
go.
‘Sure.’
Dhruv ran to the washroom to find
Sanchit smoking, with none of the books
he had asked him to bring.
‘Dude! Where are the fucking books?’
‘I am Miagi and you’re my Karate
Kid. You can’t cheat! That’s insulting my
genius.’
‘I will tell you what will insult your
genius,’ Dhruv grabbed his throat and
pushed him till Sanchit’s head hung over
the ledge.
‘I was just kidding,’ said Sanchit.
‘The books are in my pants. You think
any guard would have allowed me
inside with books in hand.’
‘. . .’
Sanchit rolled his eyes. ‘Such an
amateur!’ He plunged his hands into his
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