One Indian Girl by Chetan Bhagat

‘Yeah, Radhika,’ he said and leaned forward to hold my hand. ‘Our flight.’
‘What?’ I said. I didn’t withdraw my hand. I just gave a quick glance to confirm the door was
shut.
‘I know this will be a huge mess for you. Your entire family is here. There are huge expenses.
But hear me out.’
‘What?’
‘I will cut a cheque right now, at the hotel lobby. I will pay for everything your family or the
groom’s side spent for this wedding. So financially, it’s a non-issue. You just come with me, and we
fly away on the plane. To Hong Kong. To wherever, actually.’
‘Neel, are you kidding me?’
‘No. I mean it. I have wasted too much time. I have over-analysed, treated our love like it was
a financial deal. It doesn’t work like that. You have to do these things from here.’
He touched his chest to indicate his heart.
‘You want me to elope with you?’ I said, still absorbing his proposal-cum-plan.
‘You can talk to your family. I can meet them as well. When we reach Hong Kong we can get
married.’
‘What if I don’t want to be in Hong Kong?’
Neel became quiet for a few seconds.
‘It would be nice if we can be there for a while,’ he finally said. ‘My kids are there. But if it
bothers you we can move to another city. I will commute. See them from time to time.’
I looked at him searchingly. I knew him well enough to tell he wasn’t lying. Neel Gupta,
partner at Goldman Sachs, never uttered a word if he didn’t mean it. I kept my gaze on him for a
minute.
‘Say something,’ he said.
‘What am I supposed to say? I have to dance to chittiyan kalaiyan now.’
‘What’s that?’
‘A Bollywood song. For my sangeet.’
‘Wait, that’s Punjabi, right? What does it mean?’
‘Fair-complexioned wrists, white wrists, actually,’ I said.
‘Of course, it’s India. Has to be white. So you dancing and all? With all those hip moves?’ he
said. I nodded.
Both of us laughed. For a moment it felt like old times, when he and I would chat over
breakfast at the Goldman café.
‘Look, I don’t want to deny us a celebration. We can do a court marriage now in Hong Kong.
Later, when the dust settles, we can have our own big fat Indian wedding. One in India and one in
London, for my folks.’
I realized he hadn’t let go of my hand. He slid off the sofa and knelt down. He lifted my hand
and kissed it.
‘My beautiful Indian princess, rather I should say smart, analytically sound and extremely
beautiful Indian princess, will you marry me?’
My heart beat fast. Neel, unattainable crush of most Goldman girls who had met him, the man
whom I loved, was in front of me on his knees.
‘Please, princess, say yes,’ he said.
My phone rang. I wanted a disruption to avoid answering Neel. I picked up the call without
looking at the caller id.