One Indian Girl by Chetan Bhagat

Avinash noticed me first.
‘Hey, you are late,’ he said, ‘and wow.’
‘What?’
‘Your dress. I almost didn’t recognize you.’
Was that an ‘oh my God, you look good’ wow? Or was it a ‘what the fuck are you wearing’
wow? Before I could ask he introduced me to the others.
‘That’s Ruchi, Ashish, Nidhi, Rohan and our dreamer-philosopher, Debu,’ Avinash said, ‘and
this is Radhika, guys, my batchmate from IIMA, top mugger and now at Goldman Sachs, like me.’
Fuck you, Avinash.
‘She doesn’t look like a mugger,’ Debu said. He shifted to make space for me.
We occupied two sofas. Ruchi, Ashish and Nidhi sat on one. Rohan, Avinash, Debu and I sat
on the opposite side. The waiter asked for my order.
‘I don’t really drink a lot,’ I said.
‘Don’t worry, they only give you one glass at a time,’ Debu said. I smiled.
He looked into my eyes. He did have a philosopher look about him, with his beard and
uncombed hair.
‘Wine?’ he said. ‘It’s light.’
‘Sure,’ I said.
‘A glass of Shiraz for the lady,’ Debu said to the waiter. Nobody had ever ordered Shiraz for
me, which I later learnt is a type of grape. Nobody had ever referred to me as a lady either.
‘Cheers,’ Debu said once our drinks arrived.
Everyone lifted his or her glasses. Debu continued, ‘To the fresh-off-the-boat people, Avinash,
Rohan and Radhika. Welcome to the USA, welcome to New York.’
I learnt more about the others. Rohan had come from IIMC. He had a job at Morgan Stanley.
Nidhi and Ashish were dating each other. They had worked at Merrill Lynch for two years.
At one point, when the others were lost in conversation, Debu turned to me.
‘Goldman Sachs, eh? That’s a big deal. What is it like?’ Debu said.
‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘I am still in training. Most of it is going over my head. How about you? Are
you in a bank too?’
Debu laughed. ‘Far from it. I am not a numbers guy at all. I work in BBDO. An advertising
agency on Madison Avenue.’
‘That is so cool,’ I said.
‘The only somewhat creative career I could find.’
‘Where are you from?’ I said.
‘I grew up in Kolkata. Then went to SRCC in Delhi, then did my master’s here.. .’
I cut him mid-sentence.
‘SRCC? You went to SRCC? Which batch?’
‘I graduated three years ago,’ he said.
‘What? You are one batch senior to me.’
We realized that despite attending the same college we had never seen or met each other.
‘Sorry, I can’t recall seeing you,’ I said.
‘I was under the influence. Justifying the use of grass to stimulate my creativity. So I don’t
blame you.’
‘I studied most of the time. I don’t blame you,’ I said. Both of us laughed. A little bit of wine
from my glass spilt on my leg. He offered me a tissue. Even in the darkness, I noticed him look at my