“No way, he’ll flip out.”
That makes me sit up again. “I didn’t think he was the sort of person to flip out.”
“Oh, hedoes. Rarely, but it’s possible. And trust me, you don’twant to see it.” Charu pats my arm. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. We’re playing antakshari.”
Normally, I wouldn’t be one to turn down a good game of antakshari, but in case we forgot, I spent most of last night stalking Rudra on Instagram and making (or at least, attempting to make) a pros and cons list. And in case wealsoforgot, I get extremely crabby when I’m sleepy. Jalaj might be one to watch out for, but I’m no less, thank you very much.
“Since we’re all going to be heading on an adventure together,” Jalaj starts, “it’s important for us to get to know one another.”
“And you think antakshari is the way to do that?” Varun says, snorting.
“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” Jalaj says, cocking his eyebrows. His face is a terrifying mix of cool composure and challenge. All my thoughts of battling him for sleep go right out the window.
“No,” Varun mutters, his grin faltering. “Sorry, boss.”
Charu shrugs, whispering to me, “I told you.”
“Anyway, I’m sure all of you know how antakshari works,” Jalaj continues. “We’ll divide the twelve of you into two teams, and one team will begin the game by singing a song starting with the letter assigned to them. Once the first team has stopped singing, the second team will make note of the last letter and start a song with that. I won’t play, as I’ll be the neutral entity and judge. That, and I’m a terrible singer.”
“I can vouch for that,” Varun says, his grin back up and splitting his face. “Trust me, you don’t want to hear him sing.”
“Did he already forget Jalaj checked him in front of everybody?” I whisper to Charu, thoroughly amused.
“Don’t even start. He’s like a Daruma doll. Bounces right back up.”
“Can we sing in Gujarati?” one of the six college boys who joined our group asks.
“You can sing in any language,” Jalaj says.
“Cool.”
“You guys are Gujjus?” Rudra asks, and it’s startling to hear him initiate a conversation with someone. But I guess when it comes to your ilk, you’ll always find yourself feeling more comfortable.
“Three of us are,” the boy says, pointing to himself and the two boys seated opposite him.
“I’m Gujju too,” Rudra says, smirking. “??? ???”*
“??????!”*the boy replies enthusiastically.
“????? ??? ??? ???”*
“??? ????.”*
I’ve heard enough Gujarati spoken in Bollywood movies to know what they’re saying untilPadam Patel, but whatever follows sounds like gibberish to me.
“Okay, boys, much as this little Gujju bhai gathering is endearing as hell, can we begin the game?” Priti says, clearing her throat.
Frowning, the three boys snap toward Priti, but the moment they see her, they all go quiet. One of them—not Padam—even gawks shamelessly at her, jaw hanging open.
Predictable.The perks of pretty privilege, I think, sighing. Priti really has no clue.
“No, that’s fine,” Jalaj says, shrugging. “I mean, itisbonding.”
“Exclusive bonding, sure,” Priti says.
Rudra sighs, but he doesn’t say anything. The things people do for love...
(Okayfine, I’m not exactly the best example here because I’m literally on a road trip to kiss Amrit and I’m not even in love with him, but still.)
