Someone Like You (13 page)

The dark-eyed guy puts his hand on Tanmay’s shoulder and tells him something animatedly. They run to opposite directions after he pats Tanmay’s shoulder. The next few minutes seem fast forwarded as the two of them criss-cross between the seniors, leaving some of them looking for the ball in a smoke of dust, and almost score a goal. They miss it, and the crowd lets out a sigh. The new guy still goes running to Tanmay and celebrates as if they scored. He looks at the crowd and prods us to make a noise. He clearly has everyone’s attention now.

Another attempt by the seniors is foiled and we can see the tension rise. The juniors make another decent attempt at the senior’s goalpost. The ball rebounds from the pole. The crowd is now fully behind the four-man team led by this ridiculously arrogant dark-eyed guy on the field.

Third minute into the game, every senior is shouting abuses, the dark-eyed guy is running with the ball, dodging seniors on his right and left, when the captain, Mandar, comes from behind, grabs him by his T-shirt and pulls him down to the ground. The guy falls and a dust ball engulfs them both.

‘FUCK YOU!’
Mandar shouts at him as he is lying on the ground. The crowd boos.

The dark-eyed guy gets up, clearly hurt, bleeding from his mouth, his T-shirt torn and hanging from his waist. He tears the rest of the T-shirt, wipes the blood off his mouth and
throws the t-shirt on the ground. As the dust clears and he runs to his part of the field, I can see his ripped upper body. There are hushed whispers amongst all the girls sitting outside, all of whom notice the thick veins on his arms, the clearly cut lines of his chest and the perfectly rectangular abs.

The smile is no longer there in his face. The charm in his eyes is replaced with anger and his eyebrows are creased. He takes a long run-up to take his kick for the foul. He hits the ball with brute force, which makes it go flying across every senior on the field. The ball misses the post by an inch. No one could move while it happens and there is a sigh again. The mood changes to a very sombre one, almost like the guy in the field decided it to be.

Last minute into play, Tanmay and the guy pass the ball to each other for a very long time, much to the frustration of the opposing team. Slowly and steadily, they penetrate the offensive and mid-field cordon of the senior team. Once in, the guy dashes in with the ball, with knife-like precision and amazing speed. Every player in the seniors’ team is chasing after the dark-eyed guy, without paying any attention to the other three players of the juniors’ team. Twenty metres from the goal, he hits the ball hard and gestures something to Tanmay, who is magically in a spot with no seniors around. Tanmay jumps and hits the ball in mid-air, sending it crashing to the right-end corner of the goalpost.

The crowd explodes in excitement! Tanmay is on his knees. The guy just pumps his fist and his face accommodates a wry smile. The three guys come running to him and they hug him and pat his back repeatedly.

Seconds later, the crowd bursts out in rhythmic loud chants.

‘KARTHIK! KARTHIK! KARTHIK! KARTHIK!’

The dark-eyed guy smiles, picks up his torn t-shirt from the ground, stuffs it into his pocket and walks off the field in a cloud of dust.

It’s been a couple of weeks since that match, since the loud chants of
Karthik
, and since the time Tanmay was inducted into the football team of our college. He is a lot busier these days, and he has started to get a lot of attention from the girls of our class. Just last night, Pia said that she thinks Tanmay looks cool in his football uniform. To me, though, he still looks like an overgrown kid in round-rimmed spectacles.

Akshat has not called after that day. I think he was just bluffing to see how I reacted. But strangely enough, I think more about Karthik these days than Akshat. It’s strange, because I don’t really like that guy, but I don’t exactly hate him either. But I can’t fight the feeling that there is …
something
about him. I think that, like every other girl in the college, I too have developed a minor crush on him. Ever since that match day, I wake up whenever Pia is getting ready for the gym and feel like joining her. But I am afraid I would make my reason for going there too obvious, and I am in no mood to answer Pia’s questions. So I have waited to tell her that I want to go the gym too.

What’s worse is that I haven’t seen him in the college ever since that day. I had asked Tanmay but he didn’t have any idea either.

I check the watch. It’s 5:45 a.m. and in another ten
minutes, Pia’s alarm will ring. I struggle to keep my eyes open and not fall asleep. Exactly ten minutes later, her alarm chimes. She immediately sits up straight as a ramrod and I do the same.

‘You’re up so early? What happened?’ she asks as she stretches both her arms in the air. She is in an old, long T-shirt—of her boyfriend—and I can see her gym-toned legs.

‘I just couldn’t sleep well,’ I lie.

‘So you want to come today?’

‘Naah, I don’t. I’ll maybe just … watch a movie, or … something. And I have never been to a gym in my life,’ I say.

‘Oh c’mon! I will tell you what to do,’ she says and starts to tug at my hands to pull me up off my bed.

‘Alright, alright, I’m coming,’ I make a show of disinterest and yawn dramatically.

‘Now get up,’ Pia kisses me on my cheek and looks for her toothbrush.

I act highly uninterested, but when she looks the other way, I clean myself up, brush my teeth, comb my hair and put on a little bit of lip gloss, just in case. When we are ready to go, Pia looks at me strangely and says, ‘You look … fresh.’

I smile innocently and hope she doesn’t notice the lip gloss.

The gym is in the sports complex, another ten-minute walk away from our hostel. As soon as we leave the hostel, she asks me to jog and I go
‘what!’
After much prodding, I do so and realize that it’s not that bad. The weather is nice and the wide roads of our campus are empty.

‘Okay, so I will take two more rounds and join you in the gym in five?’ Pia asks when we get to the gym.

‘Huh?’ I say, with both my hands on my knees, panting.

‘Unless you want to run with me too?’ she smirks, as she knows my answer.

She doesn’t wait for my answer and starts running, her sexy little butt wiggling away from me. I want to ask her if
he
would be in the gym right now, but she has already gone quite a distance from me. I start to get a little nervous as I climb up the stairs to the gym. I take a deep breath to calm myself, write my name down on the register and push open the door.

I run my eyes quickly over the gym floor and I spot no one. For a moment, I forget about him and admire the gym. It’s huge and has millions of strange contraptions and equipment. Sadly enough, it seems like not many people use them. I walk around when I hear murmurs from the other end. Could it be him? My heart almost stops.

I walk gingerly, taking care not to be heard or seen, towards the voice. It’s a girl’s voice. I go closer and cross some more treadmills, cross-trainers, benches and weight racks to see two people standing very close to each other.

What I see stuns me. I know I should not be here. I know I should not be seeing this. My mind orders my feet to turn around and leave. But it’s like I’m glued to the ground beneath me. I can’t move my feet, or any other part of my body, for that matter. My eyes are transfixed to what there is in front of me. Luckily, I am behind a huge contraption with big weights hanging from it, so I am completely hidden.

Not that there is much visible, but I can still figure out that there is a guy with his back pressed against the wall and he is breathing hard, with his head tilted back. I recognize him. How can I not? The tall frame, the curly hair, the strong jaw and the voice that has anger in it. The unmistakeable voice—satin with rough edges and a careless rudeness to it. I’ve heard it before … so many times now.

Karthik.

There is a girl pressed against him. All I can see of her is her long dark hair that is totally covering her face and
I recognize her too. I have seen her in college. One of her hands holds him against the wall, with her mouth on his neck. The other hand is inside his T-shirt and creeping down slowly.

‘You like that?’

‘No. Stop,’ he says and tries to jerk her away.

‘Really? I don’t think you mean that,’ she says in a fake husky voice.

‘No, I do. I don’t want this. I told you this has to end,’ he says, frees his hand and pushes her away.

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. You still want this. Just like you still want me, Karthik.’

‘No!’ he shouts but she doesn’t listen. He grasps both her hands and pushes her away.

‘Let me go,’ she says, authoritatively.

‘Stop. I told you I don’t want this any more. This is not going to help!’ he shouts.

‘Stop fooling yourself. You say you don’t want me? That’s not how this looks.’ She smiles and presses herself against Karthik.

‘Niyati. Go away—’

My phone rings. I un-freeze. It rings louder. I see them turn to look at me, but I don’t think they can see anything. Where I am standing is way too dark or so I hope. I turn around and run, sweat trickling down profusely from my forehead. I keep running haphazardly in all directions, till I find a way out of the building. I leave the building behind and find myself lost after five minutes of running. Instead of going close to the hostel, I am even further away. I look back and find no one following me.

For some reason, I feel sick to the stomach and feel a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t know why, but I found it gross. And I felt a little … cheated. I try to find my way to the hostel, my breathing still ragged and strained, my mind still replaying images of what I just saw.

I have barely walked a few meters, when a voice calls out from behind,
‘HEY!’

I look behind me to see my worst nightmare staring at me.
Karthik.
He starts running towards me and within a few seconds, is standing right in front of me. He towers above me, all six feet of his muscular frame. I can barely speak, and I don’t know what to say anyway.

‘I am sorry you had to see that,’ he looks at me and says.

‘It’s okay,’ I say as I collect myself. In my thoughts, I had imagined what it would be like to talk to him, and this beats everything. This is the first time he is looking right at me, and talking
only
to me, with nobody else around. The impact of it is overwhelming. I hate myself for liking it.

‘I have to go,’ I say and turn away from him.

‘Hey, listen—you can’t just go like that,’ he says and starts walking next to me.

‘Why not? You get back to your gym and do … whatever it is that you do there,’ I say and I am surprised that I sound pissed.

‘I work out. What you saw wasn’t something that happens daily.’

‘I don’t care. Go work out and impress girls. Why should I care? By the way, thank you for that day in the canteen. And for helping Tanmay out in that football match.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he says, still walking beside me.

We walk silently and it has started to bother me. In a good way, and in a bad way.

‘You can go,’ I say.

‘Do you really want me to?’ he asks.

‘Why would I not?’

‘I thought you wanted to say something more to me. On that day in McDonalds, on the football field? Or maybe the day you were trying to see me in the mess? In the reflection of your plate, Niharika?’

‘What? What are you talking about?’ I ask, almost shocked as I stop in my tracks. My mind tingles with the knowledge that he knows my name.

‘What? You were, weren’t you?’

‘But how do you know my name?’
He knows my name!

‘Tanmay told me, that’s how,’ he says matter-of-factly. His lips curve into a small smile and I look directly at him. Like every time, he is still unshaved and his hair is all over the place. His eyes look directly at me and I try to look away from his piercing gaze. I find it impossible to do so; his eyes demand attention.

‘Fine,’ I say and start walking away from him.

‘So, now that we know each other’s name, we will not talk to each other?’ he says, and throws up his hands in the air.

I don’t answer and keep walking away from him. After a few steps, I can’t feel him following me and I wonder if he’s going back. A part of me wants him around so bad, I want to go back and chase him. The other part hates him and what I just saw. When I can’t handle the curiosity any more, I turn around. He is standing there, his arms crossed on his muscular chest, his head tilted cockily to one side and a lopsided half-grin on his face. I can’t help but smile grudgingly, before turning away from him. He runs up to me and it surprises me how quickly he reaches my side.

‘Why did you talk to Tanmay about me?’ I ask, as he walks with me at a safe distance.

‘It was hard not to.’

‘Why was it hard not to?’

‘That’s something you’re not supposed to ask,’ he says and there is a silence. I realize that there is a slight nip in the air though it’s not too cold.

‘Tea?’ he asks, and points in the direction that leads outside the college.

I am taken aback. I know I should say
no
, because I hate him so much, but I still find myself whispering a
yes
. I have no idea why. Everything about Karthik and my reaction to him is way above my level of understanding. Since when have I started drinking tea?

He points to his bike that is parked just at the college gate. It’s something I have never seen on the road before. It’s a huge cruiser bike, but not like the ones I have seen on television. The exhaust pipe has rusted, the body looks like it has been patched up, the seat has an army leather covering and it doesn’t look in a working condition. It looks at least twice as old as Karthik himself.

‘This?’ I ask, a little scared. He just smiles at me and puts on his helmet.

I see him get on the bike and a shiver of fear runs up my spine. But I somehow know that he would not let anything hurt me. I get on the bike and I have no option but to hold him around his waist. He clutches my hands and makes me hold him tighter. He kicks the bike and it makes an ear-splitting thundering noise before moving with a jerk. Throughout the journey, I am glad that I held him tight, because the roads are empty and he clearly doesn’t believe in driving slow.

A few minutes later, he parks the bike on an open field with a few other bikes and cars around his. We walk, not exchanging a word, to the little chai shop about five kilometres away from the main gate of the college. Pia calls and I explain—in as few words as possible—what happened and where I am. She freaks out and shouts excitedly on the phone, leaving me with no other option but to disconnect the call.

Karthik calls for two masala teas and the little boy smiles at him. It seems like they know each other. Karthik asks the kid about his school and studies, to which he answers gleefully, and gets us the teas. As he sips on it and reads the
newspaper that lies in front of him, I wonder if he remembers that I am sitting right in front of him. I take the time to notice him closely, though. The stubble, the strong jaw, the veins in his hands and the long ruffled hair—all still there, all amazingly appealing.

‘So, what made you come to the gym today?’ he asks, as if he knows why I really went there.

‘Pia. She has wanted me to join her in the gym ever since she came. I didn’t want to come … but she forced me to,’ I say. He smiles knowingly and I try to change the topic. ‘You know that your bike makes an awful lot of noise, don’t you?’

‘I thought girls liked bikes that make a lot of noise.’

‘I hate it.’

‘I could see you crinkle your nose when you got on the back seat,’ he says, and adds, ‘I thought it was adorable.’

‘So … the noise is intentional?’ I ask, wondering if I am blushing.

‘Not really. This bike is my father’s and is a 1954 Harley classic. It rotted in our garage for thirty years before I started to restore it. The silencer is the tricky part, because there are no drawings publicly available and the real one is expensive. With import duty, it should be around a lakh and a half,’ he says.

He talks passionately about everything he has changed in the bike and how. He tells me about the special permission he has from the dean of the college to work in the college workshop and use the induction furnaces. For a person not particularly interested in bikes and cars, I am strangely intrigued. I think it has more to do with images of Karthik inside my head, forging red-hot molten metal into bike parts, in his dirty t-shirt and eye-protection gear on his head. Interestingly, I was never interested whenever Akshat started to talk about his cars.

‘So you’re a mechanical engineer? Which year?’ I ask.

‘I’m flattered, but I am not an undergraduate student any more. I am doing a PhD in cloud computing,’ he says. ‘I am twenty-four.’

I almost burn my tongue with the hot tea. I always thought he looked older, but not six years older than me. Six years is a lot.

‘Oh,’ I say.

‘Too old?’

‘No, no. Just that I am eighteen. But you don’t look that old.’

‘Thank you again,’ he says and sips the last of his tea.

‘But Computers and Mechanical? What’s the connection?’

‘I have been into a lot of things. I flipped a coin and decided between mechanical and computers. Actually, I always wanted to teach. I know you find yourself asking—
teach?
Yeah, but there are so many things that I want to do and the only way I am going to find time to do all of it is by becoming a college professor. Plenty of time and freedom to do any bloody thing I want,’ he says with a smirk.