Strings Attached

~Chapter 11~

After almost ten minutes of walking, we head to the football stadium and sit in the stands to talk. I don't feel like going to my friends right now. The period isn't over yet, so they must be busy, still. "You're not a bad lad, Daniyal," Poulomi says thoughtfully, playing with the straps of her bag. "I'm glad you finally think so."

"No, I'm serious. You're not bad, from what I've seen. You're just... misunderstood, most of the time." "Well, I don't really care. It's not my problem if they misunderstand me. I just want everyone to give me space... acknowledge who I am. I like it when people get scared of me, or look at me in awe. I don't like blank faces, or hidden ones for that matter. I like reactions, any reactions, as long as they're caused by me." I don't know why I'm telling her all this.

"I think that's where you're misunderstood. People take you for a bully. Tell me, do you like hitting people?" she asks me seriously. "No, of course I don't!" I answer her with some force. "Then... are you always this angry?" she asks me again. I have a suspicion she's majoring in Psychology. "I get angry very quickly. And I get angry a lot," I admit, sighing tiredly. "But it fizzles out as soon as it burns." "Yes, I've observed that."

"Tell me, are you majoring in Psychology?" I finally ask her. "Yeah. How did you know?" she answers with some astonishment. "Thought as much." "But, how did you guess?" she presses me once again. "Here's a fact, Ms. Mukherjee. I've never talked of my behavior with anyone for a long time. Except my psychiatrist, which was like... six years ago? Probably."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I wouldn't talk about it." Her concern touches me. "If you wanna talk about something else, how about your friend, Hidayah?" Here's my chance to get her number. "Well, what about her?" "Tell me how she looks like, for instance." "I don't think I can tell you that. But, I can surely tell you she's very upright and she doesn't get herself involved with boys. So, don't think of approaching her that way."

"Besides, she's already taken." "Taken? Really?! By whom??!!" I ask her, my voice carrying surprise and a hint of anger. I don't know where all these emotions are coming from, but I feel like strangulating that guy, whoever he is. "By her cousin, back in India. Well, it's more of a betrothal kind of thing. He's four years older than her." Disgusting!

"How do you know?" "Why, she told me herself, months ago. We're friends!" she replies, a bit testily. "Does she like him?" I wait for her answer with bated breath. "I can't say she does." That's a relief! "It doesn't really matter though. She isn't very particular about marrying based on liking someone." And that isn't a relieving thought. "She just isn't interested in marrying at all."

"Mostly because she wants to make a career, and his family is kinda pressing her to marry as soon as she completes school." That's weird. Eastern people and their weird ways. "But I shouldn't be telling you all this," Poulomi suddenly says, getting up. What the heck? I haven't even got her number yet.

"No, wait!" I stop the girl, reaching for her arm. "What is it now?" she enquires, detaching her arm from my hold and brushing off the dust from her jeans. "Can... can you..." God! Dan, get a grip. You're hesitating asking for a girl's number! Yeah, coz I never had to ask, they simply hand it to me. And mustering courage, I form my sentence once again. "Can you give me her number, please?" I make sure to add 'please' at the end.