Fundamentos de la Teoría de usos y gratificaciones

few more days passed, and my bond with Bhavna grew stronger. But the more I learned about Bhavna’s background, the more I was tempted to withdraw from the friendship. Every alternate day, after my class ended, I used to cycle to the hostel while three of my friends zoomed past me on the scooter, taunting me with shouts of, “Bye Pandey.” Bhavna, too, would zoom past me saying, “Bye, Ajay”.

I would follow her with my eyes as long as I could see her. The situation was ironic. I felt like a slow tortoise crawling by as my friends zoomed past like rabbits, yelling goodbyes.

This tragic tale continued, when finally, something unexpected happened on the tenth day of class. I was cycling towards the hostel as usual with my friends zooming past me, each shouting a humiliating, ‘Bye Pandey.’ I was enraged and showed them the middle finger as I continued on my way. When I didn’t hear Bhavna’s mellow goodbye for another 200 meters, I decided to turn around and look for her.

I found her white Scooty standing in its usual place outside the Pioneer Coaching Centre but its pretty owner was missing. I looked around and saw the familiar boyish crop of hair emerge from a nearby PCO. Bhavna looked worried.

“What’s up, Bhavna?” I asked.

“I was calling my father. My Scooty has broken down,” Bhavna said.

I looked at my Dreamliner and hated it all over again. If only I had a bike, I would have been able to drop her home.

“So is your father coming to pick you up?” I asked.

“No Ajay, Papa will not be coming. He is busy at the bank. He’ll be free around nine and I can’t wait till then. I’ll have to manage on my own,” she replied, worried.

Her father worked as a manager in a nationalized bank.

“There is an auto mechanic shop near Jagat Taran College, about 400 meters away,” I replied hopefully, trying to conceal my inner joy.

She thought for a second and said, “Okay, let’s go there.”

Her Scooty was too heavy for her to wheel so I asked her courteously, “Do you want to exchange vehicles?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Have you ever wheeled a bicycle? Today could be your lucky day!”

She smiled, despite the obvious effort it took her to pull her broken down Scooty along and said, “No, thanks, Ajay. I’ll manage.”

“Okay, as you wish, but you are missing a great opportunity to pull the Pandeyji chariot.” She laughed and the sight of her dimples blew me away.

“Thanks for coming,” she said shyly. “It would have been difficult, otherwise.”

I tried to make her exchange vehicles, again. “Please try pulling my chariot. It’s better than a king’s vehicle, believe me. It is very special,” I said, flirtatiously.

“Okay, oh King. The honour is mine,” she chuckled as we exchanged vehicles. My cycle was being wheeled by such a beautiful maiden for the first time.

“Sorry Ajay, for involving you in all this. It is only 400 meters, right?” she questioned.

“Totally fine, Bhavna.”

Why just 400 metres? I would be happy to walk 400 kilometres with you.

My wrist watch said it was 7:15 p.m. and everything suddenly seemed more beautiful. The fast approaching darkness also helped the situation. For the first time, the September breeze felt comforting. The moon appeared to swell in size. And to top it all, a beautiful and smart girl was walking with me. I was almost engulfed in the happiness of the moment.

“Can I ask you something, Ajay?’ she questioned and I nodded in acquiescence.

“Who is Ragini? I’m sorry if it is intrusive, but I heard your friends tease you about her.”

I fell silent. I was in a dilemma. Should I tell her the truth about my relationship with Ragini?

That there is nothing between us and we are only good friends? I pondered and decided to use her curiosity to my advantage

“Actually Ragini used to be my girlfriend,” I said, looking embarrassed.

“She used to be? Does that mean…?” she asked, eagerly.

“Yes, actually she is pursuing an engineering degree from Bhopal and I’m here, in Allahabad.

So there is very little interaction between us, which is why I’m thinking about ending things with her,”

I said quietly.

Meanwhile, we’d reached our destination – the Scooty repair shop. The mechanic checked her Scooty by trying to kick start it after which he said, “Pin change karna padega. Carburettor ko bhi saaf karna hoga, ek ghanta lagega.” He had to change the pin and clean the carburettor. It would take an hour.

If the mechanic had been a girl I would have kissed him for saying it would take an hour.

“Bhaiya, please. Fix it fast,” Bhavna requested

“Hundred rupees,” the mechanic said, quoting his price.

“Please start your work,” she instructed.

I was lost in my own daydreams while she was talking to him. What a day. One whole hour, just Bhavna and I together. Please use it well, bro.

“Relax, Bhavna. Bhaiya take your time but do it well,” I told the mechanic. “Bhavna, don’t you worry. I’m here,” I whispered. “If you rush, he might not fix it properly, understand?”

She nodded. We stood on the side of the road and started talking to each other.

“How many siblings do you have, Ajay?” Bhavna asked.

“There are three of us. I’m the middle child. My elder sister is pursuing a degree in fashion design and my younger brother is in class 10.”

“Why are you thinking of breaking up with Ragini? Is it only because there is less interaction?”

she asked curiously about Ragini. Her hidden jealously excited me.

“There is one more reason, I must admit. She belongs to a rich family and our lifestyles are not compatible,” I said intentionally to see her reaction. By putting Ragini in the middle, I was cooking my chicken around Bhavna.

She thought for a while and asked, “Who proposed to whom first?”

“Ragini proposed to me,” I lied, like I was the famous Shahrukh Khan and Ragini was dying to be with me.

“Look, Ajay, Ragini seriously loves you. Money doesn’t matter to her,” she said. “You should not be under such an illusion.” I felt happy.

“Everyone in her family is very qualified. In fact, her mother was a teacher at my school,” I said, planting another fact intentionally and waiting for her reaction.

“Come on, Ajay. All these things sound silly.”

“How can you say this so firmly? Have you…have you ever been in such a relationship?” I asked with a heavy heart, hoping an answer in negative. My heart was running a marathon. I was about to get a cardiac arrest but she saved me.

“No, Ajay. I never had an affair or any of that stuff. Pooja di has one with a guy. And knowing what they went through, I can say your reasons seem silly compared to what real lovers go through,”

she replied.

“But for real lovers,” I sighed and she seemed to fall into deep thought. It was dangerous to make a beautiful mind work. I fired my other question.

“What does Poojadi’s boyfriend do?” I asked with intent, trying to compare myself with him.

“Calling him ‘would-be-jiju’ is better,” she said. “The word boyfriend doesn’t sound serious.”

So I’m your would be husband, I thought.

“Okay, what is your would be jiju doing?’ I grinned ironically and thought, such intense love, saying would be Jiju.

“He is studying with Poojadi.”

“So Bhavna, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you cry after the results of the freshers’ party competition were announced?”

“Oh, you noticed that? I was with Beena the whole time and even she didn’t notice.”

“A true friend sees the first tear, catches the second and stops the third,” I said intentionally, hoping these lines were not too much.

“Yes, a good friend. A true friend, actually,” she murmured, then smiled and sighed.

“You felt bad because you had lost?” I poked again.

“I don’t know, but it felt good when you told us about the tie between me and Akansha.”

“What is your date of birth, Ajay?” she asked, changing the topic. Maybe she was still not comfortable discussing that episode.

“Eighth of July,” I answered.

“Wow, you are a Cancerian and you were born on the eighth, too!”

Girls are really weird. My birth date never excites me, or my family.

“What is exciting about being a Cancerian?” I shrugged. “Are you also a Cancerian, or what?”

“No, I’m a Scorpion but my birth date is the same as yours. The eighth of November,” she said, happy.

Cancerian and Scorpion sounded like Troy and Spartan to me. I was confused. Is being born on the same date a reason for happiness?

“What time is it, Ajay?” she asked, concerned.

“A quarter past eight.”

Bhavna worriedly asked the mechanic, “Bhaiya, kitna time aur lagega? How long will it take?” The word ‘bhaiya’ echoed in my mind. It seemed so disgusting.

Thank god I’m not a mechanic, I thought.

“Almost done. Two minutes more, madam,” the mechanic answered.

“Bhavna, isn’t your father worried? I mean, he didn’t send someone to help you,” I asked, concerned.

“Actually, my papa wants his kids to be independent,” she sighed. “He always says I am his son.”

“Nice thought. Quite a logical person,” I said, praising her father intentionally. “So don’t you have any brothers?”

“No Ajay, I don’t have any brothers. That’s why my father wants to make us strong and confident, so that we can handle small problems like this independently. It is only us two sisters,” she said in very low voice and stared sadly.

She went silent, and I, retrospective. Did she miss having a brother? The way she stared at me the moment I thought this, I felt she would call me ‘bhaiya’.

No, Bhavna I’m not your brother. Run Ajay! Run! Before she calls you ‘bhaiya’. And you did make a mistake by mentioning Ragini, I said to myself.

I was about to say, ‘Sorry, Bhavna. I’m getting late for dinner. The mess serves dinner only till 9.00 p.m.’ when I was interrupted.

“It’s done,” the mechanic said, suddenly.

“Good timing,” I murmured.

“Hundred rupees,” the mechanic reminded us.

“Take eighty, bro. Student-discount,” I negotiated.

Allahabad is the only place where a majority asks for discounts as there are students everywhere. They can seek a discount at any shop. Even the tea maker charges one rupee less from students. Finally the mechanic agreed to take eighty rupees. Bhavna smiled at my bargaining skills.

“Bye, Bhavna,” I said getting on my cycle.

“Thank you, good friend and good night.” When she said the word ‘good’, it felt like I was receiving a gallantry award.

I was on cloud nine on my way to the hostel. My head was spinning. I felt so much in love. I drove my cycle at a slow speed; now this turtle was happier crawling. I kissed the handlebars of my cycle and said, “Sorry, dear. I had a chance to spend one valuable hour with Bhavna because of you.

Otherwise, I would have been on my way back like the others.”

I swayed on my cycle and began singing:

‘Ek ladki ko dekha to aisa laga, jaise khilta gulab, jaise shayar ka khwab, jaise ujali kiran, jaise bun mein hiran, jaise chandni raat, jaise narmi ki baat, jaise mandir main ho ek jalta diya…’

So lost was I in my dreams that I ended up reaching the hostel at around 9:30 p.m.

The mess was closed.

“Please see if there is something to eat,” I pleaded with the mess staff.

“Nothing, bhaiya. Everything is finished,” the mess worker answered.

But my repeated requests softened him.

“Only some daal is left. You want to eat it? No rice, no chapatti.”

“Please give it to me.”

I had that daal with internal customary drum beats. I had it like I was having the world’s most special cuisine. Only a person in love can enjoy such a dish.

T

In document UNIVERSIDAD COMPLUTENSE DE MADRID (página 151-156)