Someone Like You by Nikita Singh, Durjoy Datta Page B

know if I ever talked to anyone like this in thesecond meeting itself. I really like Tanmay, the shy kid with Harry Potter glasses.
    The class ends and Tanmay tells me that the next class in not until two hours from now. He looks at me blankly for a while before I tell him that we should hang out in the college canteen. As we leave the class, we hear a few murmurs behind us and sense a few eyes on us. I wonder what that means.
    The canteen is a good five-minute walk from our building and the sun overhead is not pleasant. There are groups of students everywhere interacting with college seniors. Ragging has reduced in the last few years, after the college authorities came down hard on it because a student killed himself after his head was dunked in a toilet and flushed in front of many of his classmates.
    We reach the canteen and Tanmay fights the twenty-strong crowd in front of the counter to get us sandwiches.
    ‘Hey, juniors!’ A tall guy in his pyjamas comes our way and sits in front of us. A few more of his friends join him. All of them are in dirty T-shirts, faded pyjamas and stink of hostel filth—a weird smell of sweat, smoke and alcohol. Simran has often told me horror stories about how dirty guys are in the hostel and now I see a few examples in front of me.
    ‘Hi,’ I mumble back, and look at Tanmay from the corner of my eye to find that he has the fear of death writ across his face.
    ‘Which branch?’ the guy asks rudely.
    ‘Electronics,’ I say.
    ‘Names,’ another guy shouts out.
    I don’t like the look of these guys—rude and very gruff. They are certainly not the kind of people I would have liked to meet on my first day in college.
    ‘Niharika,’ I say clearly, trying not to let my fear show.
    Tanmay isn’t that good at masking his feelings. Blood rushes to his face and he shuffles his feet uncomfortably. ‘T-T-Tanmay,’ he stammers.
    ‘So, T-T-Tanmay,’ the senior—the one who is sitting down—points at me and asks, ‘do you like her?’
    ‘Huh?’
    ‘I asked you—
do you fucking like her
?’ he repeats, with apparent anger in his voice, which I clearly don’t like.
    Tanmay just looks at him and sweats. The senior waits for an answer and asks again, ‘Open your mouth, you son of a bitch!’
    ‘I … I … don’t know her. N-not r-really …’
    ‘Then get the hell out of here,’ the senior says and the other two laugh loudly. I think they are overdoing the evil-villain-laughter, but it sounds scary nonetheless. I see Tanmay freeze, his scared eyes on the three laughing seniors. I know it’s me who is going to get into real trouble once these seniors make Tanmay leave, but I still feel sorrier for Tanmay. The poor kid, he looks lost.
    ‘Didn’t you get it?’ One of the two standing seniors comes close and stares down angrily at him.
    ‘I … I won’t go,’ Tanmay says.
    ‘Do you even know who you’re talking to?’ the senior who was sitting down stands up and glowers down at Tanmay.
    Tanmay shakes his head and looks down.
    ‘GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!’
the senior shouts and I see people from the adjoining tables look at us.
    I steal a glance at Tanmay, who is looking down and away from these guys. He still doesn’t budge. But I can see that he is shivering quite badly by now. I feel bad for him. I can’t stay silent any more.
    ‘Excuse me—’ I say but I am cut off.
    ‘
CHETAN MEHTA
is the name.
I AM THE COLLEGE-FUCKING-PRESIDENT
,’ the senior thunders. He nowturns to me and continues, ‘And I don’t want this guy in the canteen. You have a problem with that?’
    He looks at me with his bloodshot eyes and I have to admit, I am a little scared. Before I can get hold of my senses and say something, I see a hand creep up the college-fucking-president’s back and pat it.
    ‘You’re creating trouble again, aren’t you? How many times have I told you not to get drunk in the morning?’ the guy says.
    Strangely enough, the voice seems familiar. It comes back in