Metodología cuantitativa

didn’t go to college the next day, wanting to give an impression that I was depressed. I expected a sympathy call from Bhavna. It was like hoping for rain in Jaisalmer. I started plotting so that I could emotionally blackmail her. Yes, I was a bit sad, but was trying to project my fraud fracture as completely crushed.

Inside the hostel room, Gaurav was about to go to college.

“Gaurav I’m not well, yaar.”

“What happened? You should consult a doctor,” he said concerned.

“Nothing much, just viral fever. With severe body pain,” I added.

“Your temperature is fine. It seems like something else”, Gaurav felt my neck and wrist to check.

“Internal fever maybe.”

“Consult a doctor,” he suggested again.

“No, no. I’ll be fine soon.”

“Then, what do you want from me? My cock?” he asked, furiously.

‘Listen, brother. If Bhavna asks for me, tell her that I’m not well and…and am not talking to anyone in the hostel.” I called him ‘brother’ intentionally.

“Why, what happened? And what if she does not ask? Then?” he questioned.

I requested him, putting on a pitiful look, “Please understand, yaar. I’ll feel nice if a caring person calls me. If Bhavna doesn’t ask, then you still have to tell her this.”

“Hmm,” Gaurav said.

I pretended to cough again. “You can tell Beena as well. Please!”

“Buddy, please rest. The message will reach its destination,” Gaurav assured me.

“Love you, yaar,” I blinked with a cunning smile.

“Love, my ass! Saale tharki,” Gaurav retaliated and left.

I had purposely not asked Dipendra to talk to Bhavna as he would have easily guessed that something had happened between us. By using all unfair means, dramas, emotions and blackmailing, I still didn’t receive any call from Bhavna. My Valentine hadn’t called me on Valentine’s Day.

Bhavna had a badminton match on 15 February. I didn’t shave that day in order to look like Devdas. I reached late. Bhavna’s badminton match had already started, and after struggling, she eventually lost the match.

Bhavna, Beena, Gaurav and Dipendra were standing outside the court and were discussing the reasons for their loss. I was sitting at a distance and was busy pretending to be unwell. I was coughing like a dog. I had my own reasons for defeat. Bhavna came to me after five minutes. “Hi, Bhavna. Sorry about the result of the match,” I said looking away from her. It was now difficult for me to look at her beautiful eyes.

“Yes, you should be. I didn’t receive my friend’s good wishes before the match.”

“Sorry for being late. Actually, I wasn’t well,” I said and coughed again.

“Don’t lie. Gaurav already told me that you are not talking to anyone in the hostel.”

Love you, Gaurav, for hitting the mark, I mentally thanked Gaurav.

She continued, “Ajay, nothing has happened between us.” I remained silent. “Nothing has changed, Ajay. You are still a good friend.” For the first time, I hated the word ‘friend’.

“From now, you are not going to bunk classes. And no more looking sad. I want my friend back…the way he was before.”

She instructed me like a teacher and I nodded like an obedient student. I loved that she cared for me and at the same time I felt guilty for pretending. I decided not to do anything like that. If she loved me, she would accept me someday.

❖

A few more days passed. The series of formal ‘hellos’ and ‘byes’ continued. I left everything to fate.

No more emotional blackmail, no coughing, no more leaving my face unshaven. Nothing. I was lost in the recollections of the incredible Pioneer Computer class days and even cursed my luck sometimes.

21 February, 8.30 p.m.

My silver phone vibrated and the screen flashed, ‘Bhavna Calling’.

“Hello, Ajay. Hope you are not busy. Can we talk?”

“Anything for you anytime, ma’am,” I flirted.

“Listen carefully, Ajay. Please don’t interrupt. Allow me to finish,” she said very seriously.

“If today anyone asks me who my best friend is, it’s you,” she sighed. “Even if anyone asks me who I like most, then it’s still you.”

I jumped in excitement and said, “What about….?”

“Wait…Don’t poke your nose,” she ordered.

“Yes, if anyone asks me, whom I love, I will say, ‘Yes, I love Ajay.’ Or, yes, I love you. But…”

She sighed. This ‘but’ was killing me.

I remained silent.

“But…I don’t understand this love. What I’ve understood is that you are more than my best buddy. Once we finish our engineering and settle into our respective lives, we’ll definitely talk to our parents and marry. But till then, we’ll be best friends, nothing more than that. I’m hanging up. We’ll talk about this later.”

Bhavna was not the kind of a girl to first fall in love, experience the relationship and then decide whether or not to marry. Love and marriage were the same thing for her.

“Wait,” I pleaded.

“Not now. Today is my day,” she said and disconnected the call.

That day, Jaisalmer became Cherrapunji and there was even a cloud burst. I was on cloud nine.

I started dancing in my room, a customary drumbeat rolled internally and my mind started playing melodious music. This went on for the next fifteen minutes and I settled down on my bed, sweating badly. I could see the newspaper in which the love calendar was printed. I read it and began laughing

uncontrollably; it was 21 February, Breakup Day.

A