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‘How do you know that?’
‘I have a computer at home. AMD 1.2
GB Thunderbird Athlon computer with
320 MB SDRAM, SoundBlaster Live
Value, CD drive and a 12 GB hard disk.
It’s actually my brother’s but I can use it
after he’s done. He only watches porn.’
‘Porn?’
‘It’s just biology in action. Nothing
something you would be interested in till
you’re thirteen.’
Dhruv’s eyes widened. ‘Can I see
your computer? Do you have Wolfestien
on it?’
‘No,’ Aranya lied. Dhruv’s shoulders
drooped.
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‘My parents are very strict,’ she said.
‘And no friends are allowed at my
place. We have to serve them Coca-Cola
if they come and Mom says it’s
expensive. Sometimes, my mother adds
water to those glasses. No one can tell
the difference.’ Aranya continued, ‘But
you should tell people about the 54.8 per
cent. They should talk about something
else.’
I Love u Rachu
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6
Aranya and Dhruv would spend the
lunch break together, sitting in the class,
sharing lunches. Dhruv had played
FLAMES using her name and his, and
despite the result, he had decided she
would be his wife. He would protect her
from the world. They would always
share their lunches. He had vowed he
would never let her shirt stain with ink
spots. And the day he grows up to be a
senior, he would hunt every last student
in the school who had hurt Aranya and
punch them in the nose.
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To twelve-year-old Dhruv, she was
the most beautiful girl in the whole wide
world and he would love her fiercely till
the end of time.
By now Dhruv had learned to make
his lunch—four slices of bread
generously spread with pineapple jam.
They would sit on the last bench the
entire day and write little messages for
each other on the desk. The class called
them the weird couple. They ignored
them. Dhruv finally realized what his
mother meant when she told him,
‘Everything would be alright.’
During the lunch break, they would
wait for the students to leave and draw
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each other on the blackboard. Dhruv
would draw her with big hands and big
eyes, and she would draw him with big
ears. Together, they would draw little
hearts at the edges. They would also
draw a little house they would live in
when they grew up. It would have a lot
of big windows and two computers.
‘What’s that?’ asked Aranya pointing
to a patch on Dhruv’s shirt.
‘Dad vomited again this morning. It
smelled really bad so I mopped it up. I
couldn’t get this out,’ said Dhruv,
rubbing his hand over the stain. ‘Also, I
found this is the mail today morning.’
Aranya took the envelope in his hand
and tore it along the fold. Aranya and
Dhruv read it together. It was a letter
warning Dhruv’s father of his extended
absence in office.
‘He might lose his job,’ said Aranya.
‘People who work in the government
don’t lose their jobs,’ said Dhruv from
previous knowledge. ‘What does your
father do?’
‘He is in construction. When people
buy a new flat and they have to break a
wall or two, redo the plumbing and the
wiring, they call my father. He lost the
thumb of his left hand. He can’t hold
things in his left hand any more. I think
that’s why he’s constantly angry.’
Dhruv laughed at this and then
apologized, not sure if it was a joke. ‘At
least he doesn’t smell bad like my father
does.’
‘At least your dad loves you. Papa
loves only my brother,’ muttered Aranya.
‘At least you’re together.’ Aranya
smiled weakly. ‘What did the new
doctor say?’ he asked Aranya.
She shook her head. ‘Same thing. It’s
incurable, non-contagious. It picks its
victim at random. Quite unfair too if you
ask me. You can touch me though, you’re
totally safe.’
Dhruv touched her skin. He didn’t die
or feel woozy like the kids in their class
had prophesied. ‘Will you always be
like this?’
Aranya nodded. ‘That’s why my
parents hate me for it. Mom says I
wouldn’t make a pretty bride and I will
live with them for the rest of my life.’
‘You can come live with me then. In
our little house.’
‘Why would I live with you?’ asked
Aranya and smiled.
‘I will make you breakfast every day
for the rest of your life,’ answered
Dhruv, his face flushed red like those
little cartoons on greeting cards. ‘But
you have to promise not to leave.’
‘I promise.’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
Twelve-year-old Dhruv held her hand.
Their hands sweated, but neither of them
wanted to let go. From then on, he would
hold her hand whenever he got the
chance to. ‘I love you,’ they would say
and blush furiously and hold each
other’s hands tighter. It was them against
the world, they had decided, forever and
for always. Dhruv would always be
Aranya’s first love.
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