Friends Without Benefits
There are two types of girls in the world. First
are those whom we describe as “Riya” or “Ria”. You might know them by the names
of “Priya”, “Supriya”, “Aishwariya” etc. These are your typical girls-next
door. These were the bubbly friendly girls everyone in school grew up crushing
on, but who ended up dating Rocky Bikewala. These girls allowed guys to come
close, only to ask them out on a rakhi-date two years later. Then they would
rectify their mistakes and tie nuptial threads with the guy scoring the highest
CTC soon after placements (sometimes even
if a rakhi-relationship had existed already). With their charm and innocent
smiles, Riya’s always ensured long lasting memorable relationships with
everyone around them. If you’re wondering who they are, just ask them for their
email address and the words “angel”
or “sweet” or “god” appear anywhere, you know who I’m talking about.
Then there are those who we shall call “Rhea”.
‘That’s a stripper name,’ Podrik had
once remarked. So obviously we will talk about a Rhea. Or for my more cultured
readers – Lady Rhea Royce of Runestone.
There are great men and women I admire who
sow the seeds of their contributions to society everywhere they go. Rhea was
not one of them. Rather, Rhea had the knack of collecting the seeds of society
wherever she went. In this story, I might come across as a sexist and a
classist, but clearly Rhea was neither of those things. Over the course of our
semester abroad, Rhea established “good
friendships” with a very white Brit, a very black American, a couple of
drunk French guys, a very handsome Iranian, and even a Belgian girl - often not
even one-at-a-time. It seemed like she wasn't particularly interested in Indian
guys. Being an Indian guy myself, I can’t blame her. I wouldn’t recommend most
girls to date someone of my breed. Or guys in general. Come to think of it, I
really do not understand gay men and straight women. But that's a discussion
for another time.
MBA schools are fond of making informal
groups based on common themes and likes. We had a group for people who had come
from Maharasthra called MAXI; people who loved Old Monk were called OMAXI; and we
who thought they were dating Rhea called ourselves LOSERS. Podrik and I were
just two of a club of guys who thought
they were dating Rhea, but never really received the “Rhea touch” (to be fair Podrik did massage her head once).
Sometimes us Losers would get together and talk about the answers to life, the
universe, and everything. It was nice having that feeling of camaraderie. Over
the years we have kept in touch. One of us is a stand-up comic now. I, lacking
the talent for stage-presence, find solace in teasing her through written words
from the dark shambles of my room.
It’s not to say that Rhea could not
maintain a stable relationship. In fact she maintained several. But her most
enduring relationship came from before our MBA began. Before coming in for the
course Rhea had an IIM-graduated Bank of America-employed Dubai-based long-term
Boyfriend. As per Rhea, it wasn’t cheating till they weren’t on the same
continent. By the end of the course, she said that it wasn’t cheating till they
weren’t on the same floor. I must say, I do see the logic and the logistics in
her arguments.
Though neither Podrik nor I were dating
Rhea per say, we were a part of her
dating life… in a way. In the age of being constantly connected regardless of
national boundaries or time zones, someone had to answer for Rhea’s sudden
disappearances to Boyfriend. Moreover, Boyfriend needed to know Rhea’s closest
male-friends personally, and how threatening they were to his relationship. That’s
when Rhea presented the likes of us. To Boyfriend, we were Rhea’s closest
friends. And of course he knew Rhea would not be wasting her time or energies on the likes of us. Little
did he know, we were just the distraction.
There is no easy way to get over
infatuation. Some say it takes half the time you harbored feelings for them.
Some say it takes one week for every month you were together. Some say it takes
10,000 drinks, however long that takes. I think it involves a series of steps -
from her bedroom to the door. For Podrik, it was a series of stupid decisions.
This included the Incident of the Bridge, the Night of Red Bull, and the head
massage which was the only time he made actual physical contact. But the
incident that stays with us till date is the Weekend of the Trademark.
We hadn’t seen Pod in three days. I thought
he had probably overdosed and died; which I admit would have been a better sequence
of events. After three days of conspicuous absence, I found him beaming with
pride at my doorstep. And I just knew something had gone very horribly wrong.
‘Dude!
Guess what?,’ Podrik was estatic.
‘Does
it involve Rhea?’ I asked.
‘Yes!’
Podrik said loudly, but suddenly less sure of
himself.
‘Did
you bang her? For three days? I didn’t know you had it in you.’
He didn’t. Podrik was ecstatic on what he
had done and the words that came out of him were nothing short of a poem:
‘Once upon a time, in lands such afar
I was summoned by a maiden, my morning star
Her name Rhea, her dreams so grand
She needed help, a business to brand
With papers and forms, she was in distress
Her company’s name, she couldn’t impress
To the rescue came I, to relieve her pain
To trademark her name, her business to gain
but she demanded more, she wanted it all,
so deeper I delved, and answered the call
For three days and three nights, I toiled and drilled
Over bureaucratic matters, of course I was skilled
While I pounded away, she had her fun,
Boinking a Frenchman, the deed was done
In the embrace of inebriety, they did mate
Alexander his name, he must’ve been great!’
As Podrik shared his tale of triumph’s
flight
I stood up, my pillow in sight
With all my strength, I tried to smother
But alas he survived, to the delight of his
mother
But this is friends, true and bold
In life’s adventures, they uphold
They don’t deter, from foolish ways
Instead they support in darker days
With shoulders strong, we lend a hand
Or offer rum, to help you stand
And if the foolishness goes much too awry
We will bury you alive, with a heavy sigh
So I took dear Podrik, to his delight
To his favorite strip club, one wild night
The tales of that eve, a story to tell
But for now that tale, I’ll safely quell
With Rhea left behind, in the past
I found my love, my joy at last
In love arms at last, I fould solace rare
Her name was Jennifer, a vision fair
