“Kaha padhte ho?[115]” Samar asked.
“GMC mein, Bhaiya.[116]”
“Bhaiya ne hi meri aankhon ka operation karwaya tha[117],” his grandfather filled in.
“Samar Bhaiya?” The boy pushed up from his bike.
“Bilkul, har election mein inko hi vote dena hai.[118]”
“Aapko hi vote dete hai, Bhaiya![119]”
Samar nodded.
“Chalo, Daaxsaab, main chalta hoon. Kal ki tayyari bhi karni hai. Abki baar jaldi aaoge ya phir panchvarshiya yojna?[120]”
Samar stalled.
“Jaldi aayenge, Panditji,[121]” Amaal promised when Samar did not say anything. He stepped up to pay him, but this time Panditji was faster. He hopped onto his grandson’s bike and tapped him — “Chal, chal.[122]”
Amaal was left staring at a stunned Samar, standing on the curb of the road with money in his hand. He turned to her, his mouth open, and she burst out laughing.
“Your ice cream will melt,” he grunted, glancing at the money in his hand.
“It’s finished already.” She held the leaf upside down. Not even a rivulet of melted milk was left.
“Let’s go.” He pushed the money inside his pocket and began walking towards the car.
“Samar?”
“Hmm?” His head turned over his shoulder.
“Khalil and I are not together.”
He halted.
His body turned completely towards her. The wind howled, and the traffic zipped past.
“We went out for a few weeks,” she said. “We tried to patch our long-distance and timings. It didn’t last.”
“Because you both are far away from each other?” He asked.
She shook her head.
“Then?”
She shrugged.
“But Varun…”
“He knows Khalil, and saw a Facebook post that was not even supposed to be uploaded. It was taken down immediately.”
“What post?”
“In a moment of drunk fun he changed his status from single to in a relationship with me.”
“Bu…”
“Three of his friends saw and we deleted it.”
