Under The Mango Trees

Chapter Forty-Five : In Between Dev and His Girl "friend"

How in Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, the dashing guy pulled the beautiful girl inside the moving train- moving people's hearts to pine for the star-crossed lovers. That was what happened one random Tuesday. But have you wondered what could have unfurled in the minds of the extras in the train who watched the guy hoist the girl up as if that was the last train on earth? As if there wasn't a 6.02 train to Andheri literally 2 seconds later? What. The. Fuck. Those were words that popped up in my mind when I saw Dev help a girl the second the train lurched forward.

"Thank you," she said, her cheeks flushed more from pleasure than all the running she did. Of course, who wouldn't blush like a baboon after being helped by someone so handsome? What cast a gloomier shadow over my existence was the fact that she just had to stand next to him and they resembled a magazine, front-cover couple. And as if the Gods above were shipping them, the sun's rays directly spilled over their eyes, swirling silky honey in them.

Folding my arms, I took a step forward, blocking the traitorous sun whose rays pierced my back in a full-blown assault. "Don't worry. He always helps people."

"Your committee work is over?" he asked her, ignoring the shadows. I didn't know whether the sun was burning my body or the other thing.

Still, I persisted like a shrivelling flower reaching towards a tiny patch of sunlight. "Do you both know each other?"

"Yes! We're in the same class!" she burst out, her short, shiny hair bouncing. Was she his spokesperson? I had asked him that question, to make those honey-brown eyes look at me.

"Did you send the passes . . .?" He began talking to her about some stupid, college committee and my "what passes?" fell on deaf ears. When by a miracle we chanced upon an empty seat, he said, "You can sit there, Dikshita."

I hung to the handlebars, scrutinizing what was so special about her for him to offer a seat to her and not me. Her hair shinier, her cheeks lovelier, her eyes prettier. . . Not to mention her clothes which boasted of big money wrapped around her body. Wordlessly, I broke away my stare, preferring to see the men outside who claimed the railway tracks as their personal loo.

When we stepped onto the station and they bade each other farewell, he finally turned to me. "We have an event coming up at college. You should come."

As if I hadn't gathered that much from their conversation, him scribbling instructions of the event on the blank paper of her mind.

"What, is she going to be a CA too?" I didn't mean to be snappy, but at least I didn't ask if he was in love with her or something.

He chuckled, swinging his legs as we walked under the jamun trees. "Yes, we're in the same purgatory."

The word "we" was as aggravating as the sound of nails scratching on the blackboard and I kicked a lone jamun seed. "Well, at least she has things figured out, I guess. However boring it is. As for me---" Later when I analysed why I said this, to appear smaller in front of her was to gain his sympathy. "---I have nothing figured out. I'm doomed."

"Pessimism is a limited view, Tulsi."

That was one of the rare moments when he called my name, otherwise, he never had any need to address me since we always walked next to each other within hearing range. It felt personal as if he had peeped into a part of my life that he didn't have access to. This taste of intimacy felt sweet on his lips and I savoured it for some time.

"What do you know about pessimism? You're a diplomat. Neither this nor that."

He chuckled again, the ironic look in his eyes focusing on my head since I kept my gaze lowered to the ground. "Pessimism is a mirage. You think you're getting closer to the truth, but you're only getting farther and farther from reality."