One Indian Girl by Chetan Bhagat

‘Give me a hug. Don’t just say “hey” when I enter the house.’
He sprang up from his seat. He came up to me and hugged me.
I pushed him away. ‘Not when I have to ask. And be interested. My mom and I had a huge
argument.’
‘What about?’
‘Guess.’
‘Your marriage? Her whole “who will marry my poor daughter” routine?’
‘Yes, Debu,’ I said, glaring at him. ‘You are so clever to figure it out. But seriously, who will
marry her poor daughter?’
My mother and I had at least one blowout per week about my marriage. Debu knew about it. I
hoped he would get into action and propose a plan. Of course, a stupid minor league American
football game was more important. I continued to glare at him.
‘What?’ Debu said. ‘Stop letting her affect you so much. She’s regressive and old-fashioned.’
He took a paper plate and scooped some noodles on it. He handed it to me, a cheap portion of
chowmein to compensate for my uncertain future.
‘Debu, really? Is that what you think I am upset about?’
‘It’s not?’ he said, his face blank.
Why don’t guys ever get it? It’s never just one thing with women. It’s a long day at work,
dirty looks from my boss, seeing women thinner than me in the train, arguing with my mother,
coming home to a disinterested boyfriend and then eating greasy food for dinner that would make
me even fatter than the skinny girls on the train. Oh, and add boyfriend never having the guts to
discuss our future.
‘No,’ I said, in as patient a voice as possible, ‘it isn’t only that.’
‘Oh,’ he said, genuinely astonished.
‘Debu, what the fuck!’
‘What? What did I do?’
‘What did you not do?’
‘The hug? I am sorry about the hug, baby.’
‘It’s not the hug. It’s us. Are you so thick or are you pretending to be so?’
‘Be clear, baby.’
‘Don’t baby me.’
I pushed my plate away. I didn’t want to eat this cardiac arrest on a plate. I didn’t want to
listen to the ‘baby, baby’ crap.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Debu, where are we going?’
‘Meaning?’
I picked up the remote and switched off the TV.
‘Us. Where is this relationship going? My mother wants me to get married. Are you listening?’
‘But you don’t want to, right? Not right now, right?’ he said, puzzled.
‘But where do you see us in the future, Debu?’
‘I love you, baby. I mean, Radhika. And you love me. We love each other so much. Who else
do we have, really?’
‘Love is fine. Yes, I do love you. Frankly, sometimes I feel I am too involved with you. I can’t
even think of another guy. Maybe that is why I flare up with mom.’
‘So that’s good, no?’