The Snarky Indian

Part 15: Viha gives up on her 'crush'.

"Hey do you know that guy?" some random girl who I think is called 'Dee-Dee' (at least that's what she pronounces it. Very thick accent.) asks me, pointing toward Ayan. We were seated in class, though I think calling it a 'class' didn't really cut it because it was an auditorium, or as we engineers like to call it, the 'Audi'. Yep, we have a habit of shortening things. Computer science engineering became comp science, mechanical engineering became mech, electronics and communication became ECE, and amphiteatre became amphi. You get used to it with time. 

I turned back, for 'Dee-Dee' was seated behind me, and nodded. "He's cute. What's his name?" I looked at Ayan, I mean he looked alright, I guess. Unfortunately my line of sight moved ahead of Ayan, right on a very studious looking guy, with one of those geeky-chic, thick-framed glasses. Whadaya know? Nerdy Aryan looks absolutely adorable. I might even develop some sort of fetish for thick-framed glasses soon. Unfortunately, my staring was interrupted by a sharp object being poked into my back. I irritably jerked my head sideways and raised my eyebrows. "Name?" She whispered loudly. I rolled my eyes, "A--" You know what, I'm irritated now, "Nirma" I completed, causing Viha, who was seated next to me, to give me a quick look and turn away to try and hide her laughter. She'd decided that to get over him, we'd have to sing the 'washing powder nirma' advert jingle everytime he's within earshot, so that she gets an aversion to it, and so I honoured it. The Girl Code, bitches. 

The girl kept harrassing me about it, and I got pretty annoyed, especially when the professor chided us for disturbing the class. The worst part? He called me by name. I didn't know how it worked in the US, but when it happens to Indians, especially the hard-core, really sensitive nerds, they begin crying. Which is what I did. Silently. I was surrepititiously trying to wipe my eyes with my sleeves when Viha bumped her shoulder with mine, indicating that she'd realized that I was crying. I just shook my head and turned away, only to hear a sad sigh from her. She knew I wouldn't talk for the rest of the class, scared that my name would be called out again. I wasn't really sure why I was crying, only that I was upset and I needed to get it out. I wasn't even sure if it was because the professor chided me. Tears kept flowing freely as I hid my face in the crook of my arm, wetting my jacket. Fortunately, I was all cried out by the time classes ended, considering it was the last class of the day. I stood up to walk out, swinging my bag onto my back. Viha did the same, putting her arm around my shoulder and walking with me in silence to the restroom so that I could wash my face. 

When we got out, we noticed that Ayan was in earshot. Viha began singing, "Washing powder Nirma..." And I laughed and continued it. Ayan began speed-walking away, but we ran behind him, just so that he could hear our out-of-tune, horrible singing voices. He'd claimed that the jingle made him think of home. Like, really? Of all advert jingles, it was washing powder nirma? If the people of India heard this, they would make a life-sized doll of a faceless person, dress him up and set him on fire, simultanelously yelling, "Ayan murdabaad!" (Ayan down down). Okay, maybe not. That was too drastic. Maybe I could make a voodoo doll of him and poke the shit out of it. 

Finally, he turned around, "Truce? I'll buy you anything you want." The way into an Indian's heart is free food, the bastard knew it. He was playing with our weaknesses. We knew exactly what we needed to do. Viha and I looked at each other with grave expressions, nodded slightly and turned away. Yes, there was only one thing to do. "Awesome. Let's go!" We yelled, grinning gleefully. This was the third time we'd done this. Yep, we were shameless. 

We'd found an amazing little shop that sold amazing pastries and almost every caffeinated beverage we could name. Which weren't many, truth be told. It was still an amazing shop. Yep, it was cheaper than most. Viha and I weren't that cruel. "Let's call the others?" Asked Ayan. We gave him a thumbs-up and a huge grin, it made him mutter, "Creepy twins." We called the others up and told them to get their asses to the bus stop, ending the conversation with 'Coffee time. Same place. Come at once if convenient. If inconvenient, come anyway.' Yes, Indians were HUGE fans of Sherlock. But then again with Benedict Cumberbatch and his amazing Brit accent, who wouldn't love Sherlock?