'So you don't really want to marry this fellow?'
'I detest Inder. He troubled me so much in Lucknow that I came away to stay in Delhi with my brother. I love you, Vijay, but I cannot marry you. If I defy my father he will not only kill me, he will also kill you. That is why I cannot accept this ring.' She closes the lid and passes the velvet box back to me.
I purse my lips. 'I think it is time you told me about your family.'
'Yes. I think it is time, too.' She takes a deep breath. 'I am Jagannath Rai's daughter.'
I feel an electric current dart up my backside. 'Arrey baap re! The Home Minister of Uttar Pradesh? That dreaded mafia don?'
'The same,' she replies in a low voice.
'Then where are you staying? In some government guesthouse?'
'No. I am staying with my brother in Mehrauli. At Number Six.'
'You mean you are Vicky Rai's sister?'
'Do you know him?'
'Who doesn't know him? He is all over the news for getting away with the murder of Ruby Gill.'
'I can tolerate the verdict,' she says bitterly. 'What I cannot stand is the gloating that is going on in our house. It sickens me. I feel ashamed to belong to such a family.'
'It looks like you don't get along with your father and brother.'
'I never have. There are two camps in our house. My mother and I are on one side and my father and brother are on the other, and there is perpetual wrestling going on between the two camps. Of course, it is the men who always prevail over the women.' Her head hangs down and a tear trickles out of her eye.
I kiss away her tear. 'Now you can add one more person to your camp. I will be there for you, always.'
'So you still want to be friends with me, Vijay?'
It is my turn now to take a deep breath. In the face of her confession I feel the time has come for full disclosure on my side as well. 'I need to tell you the truth about me, Ritu. Then I will ask whether you want to be friends with me.'
'Do not speak in riddles.'
'I won't. Not any longer. So here's the truth. I am not Vijay Singh. My real name is Munna. I am not a Thakur. I don't own a four-bedroom flat. I live in a one-room shack inside the Bhole Nath Temple, where my mother works as a sweeper. Everything I told you before was a lie. But only because I am madly in love with you and didn't want to lose you.'
Ritu crumples in front of me, doubling up in pain as though I have hit her physically. There is a long pause as she digests the information I have given her. Then she turns to face me. 'I am presuming you don't own any factory either. What do you really do, Mr Munna, besides lying and cheating?' she asks accusingly, clenching her fists.
I debate whether to tell Ritu about my career as a mobilephone thief and decide against it. Love might make one blind, but not stupid. I had to tell her the truth about my family because a man of Jagannath Rai's connections would have seen through my deception instantly. But even Jagannath Rai cannot know about my briefcase. Still, I have the sinking feeling that my love affair is all but over. Even the money in the briefcase will not be enough to restore Ritu's faith in me.
'I am a manager at a box factory,' I say with downcast eyes.
'Then where did you get this diamond ring from? Did you steal it?' Ritu demands.
Having decided not to tell her anything about the briefcase, I am left with just one option. To prove that my love is real, the diamond ring will have to become fake.
'It is not a real diamond ring. It is simply cubic zirconium. This was all I could afford.'
Ritu clenches her fists again and I can sense deep emotion welling up inside her. In Hindi films, this is when the heroine stands up and slaps the deceitful hero. I wince, expecting Ritu to do the same, but what happens next is entirely unexpected. Instead of slapping me, Ritu grasps my hand. 'You sacrificed your hard-earned money for my happiness? And that lunch in the fivestar restaurant… You must have blown a month's salary just to impress me.'
I nod and her eyes turn tearful again. 'I am glad you told me the truth, Munna,' she says in a broken voice. 'I can tolerate poverty, but I cannot tolerate falsehood.' She looks me in the eye. 'You asked me whether I still want to be friends with you. This is my answer.' She kisses me on the cheek and takes back the ring.
I don't know whether to thank God or Bollywood for this remarkable turnaround. The love affair between the rich girl and the poor boy is staple fare in Hindi films. I wonder whether Ritu Rai is a star-struck scatterbrain, getting her kicks from romancing the poor. Another possibility that crosses my mind is that, like the film-maker Nandita Mishra, she too might be making a documentary on slum life. But when I look into her eyes I don't see any deviousness there, I glimpse only genuine honesty. And a wave of relief sweeps over my body, causing love to gush out of my eyes, drenching the bench and cooling my heart. I kiss Ritu back and clasp her in a fierce embrace as though the two of us are the only living beings left on this planet.
The embrace is broken by someone shaking my shoulder violently. I look up to find a tall man with a thick curled-up moustache glaring at me. It is Ram Singh, Ritu's bodyguard.
'Baby!' he thunders at her with the authority of a trusted retainer. 'Your entire family is waiting at home with your birthday cake and this is where you are spending your time? If Bhaiyyaji were to see you in this condition he wouldn't leave you alive. Now come with me this instant.'
Ritu wrenches herself from me with a terrified cry and gets up from the bench. Ram Singh grabs her arm and begins dragging her towards the car park. She cannot even muster the courage to look back at me.
I am left contemplating the reach of her father. If Ram Singh can inspire so much terror, what will being face to face with Jagannath Rai be like? What kind of nasty things will he do to me once he finds out about the naughty things I have done with his daughter? I can only hope that just as the gangsters whose briefcase I have stolen have no clue to my whereabouts, Jagannath Rai will be unable to trace me.
On returning to the temple, I find Champi sitting in her usual place, chatting to a dark-skinned stranger. This is the first time I have seen her chat with anyone in the temple. I approach the gulmohar tree. The man sitting on the bench is the strangestlooking person I have ever seen. He is no more than five feet tall and jet black, like the habshis they show in movies dancing with the heroine in a nightclub in their leopard-skin loincloths, chanting some nonsense like 'Hoogo Boogu' and thrusting their spears in the air.
'Who was that stranger you were talking to?' I ask Champi the next morning.
'He is my friend, and he is staying in the shack next to ours,' says Champi. 'What does he look like, Munna?'
I glance at Champi sharply. There is an expectant look on her face, as though my answer will be a confirmation of what she has already visualized in her mind. I see the same bashful glow on her cheeks as I have seen on Ritu's. With a shock I realize Champi might be falling in love with that tribal. Somehow, because of her ugliness, the possibility has never crossed my mind, and I realize how selfish and insensitive I have been.
'What does he look like?' Champi repeats.
'He is tall and dark and very handsome,' I reply, bringing a smile to Champi's face. No point telling her that her Romeo is a black midget who looks like a clown.
The next week is the most agonizing of my life. Ritu does not call me and her mobile appears to be switched off. I am unable to sleep, my mind full of grim portents. And my foreboding seems justified when I get a frantic call on 17 March from Malini, Ritu's friend whom I met in the night club. 'Munna, Ritu needs to see you. With great difficulty I have managed to bring her to my house. Can you come right now to West End?'
I take down the address and rush to her house, a smart villa in a leafy suburb. A distraught Malini receives me and takes me to her room, where I receive the shock of my life. Ritu limps up to me, looking like one of those battered housewives they show on TV. There are bruises on her forehead and chin, welt marks on her cheeks and dark circles under her eyes.