Chapter 4: Showdowns and Revelations

'Well, look at you, still putting on an act in front of me. Afraid you haven’t done well and can’t show your face?' Her tone was half-teasing, half-accusing—the queen bee, just like old times. I felt a sneeze building from her perfume and covered my nose with a napkin, blinking away tears as the onlookers snickered.

She looked familiar, but her name escaped me. My mind flicked through old class photos and memories—a girl always with a new pen, a loud laugh, the first to grab the teacher’s attention.

Seeing my silence, she curled her lips into a smile. 'Amit, do you really not remember me?'

I shook my head, polite but honest. 'Sorry, I’ve met too many people over the years. And you are?'

At this, a chubby, big-eared classmate burst out laughing. 'Amit, are you trying to be funny? This is our class beauty, Sneha! Did you forget you chased her for three years?'

Sneha. The memory clicked. Yes, I had chased her—notes under desks, nervous glances in assembly, competing for the last samosa. But it was all in the past, more about rivalry than romance. Now, these old friends twisted the story into something else.

Sneha raised her voice. 'Amit, I know you must feel awkward seeing me and the class prefect together, but after all these years, you should really let it go. The gap between us just keeps growing. Besides, I’m already engaged.' She flashed her diamond ring, letting the chandelier spotlight her triumph.

I smiled wryly—what did her engagement have to do with me? Years of negotiations had taught me to lock my feelings away from cheap theatrics. 'So, don’t get any ideas. My fiancé is Rohan, and his father is the chairman of Mumbai’s Arya Group—Mr. Rajendra Singh.'

Rajendra Singh. The name rang a bell in my mental files, but I let it pass. My phone buzzed—a reminder of my real world. I stood, quietly wishing her well, and prepared to leave.

Rohan grinned wider. 'Amit, looks like you’ve hit a rough patch. For the sake of old classmates, why not come work as a security guard at my company? Eighteen thousand a month—much better than following your boss around serving chai.'

The table burst into orchestrated laughter. Even the waiters paused to catch the joke. Another classmate chimed in, 'Exactly, Amit, Rohan could get you a job in no time. That’s way better than being a low-level clerk.' Their sympathy was false, their eyes bright with mischief.

Inside, I was tempted to laugh at the absurdity. The same people who copied my homework now pitied me for not having a fat pay packet. Faces once full of childish curiosity were now sharpened by ambition. I made a silent vow—no more reunions for me. Next year, I’d spend the night with Amma’s kadhi chawal and Doordarshan reruns.

They say reunions are for showing off and putting people in their place. I hadn’t believed it—until now. 'Log kya kahenge' finally made sense. Sighing, I headed for the door, a heavy, final sigh. Their laughter followed me, but I kept my head high.

I picked up my coat and stood up. 'Sorry, I have things to do. I’ll be heading out.' My voice was steady. I buttoned my jacket, nodded gratefully to Priya, and took a step toward the exit.

Before I could reach the door, a loud bang startled everyone. Rohan, face flushed from drink, slammed a bottle of Royal Stag onto the table. Soup and juice splattered, and the sharp tang of spilled whisky mixed with the earthy aroma of cardamom chai, making my stomach churn. Waiters rushed to clean up. The tension in the room spiked.

Rohan glared, slurring, 'Amit, did I say you could leave?' The private room erupted in nervous laughter. I stared back, anger rising. 'What, do I need your permission to leave now?' Our eyes locked, like two wrestlers circling each other before the first move at the akhada.

Rohan’s eyebrows shot up, mouth open in disbelief. He shoved my shoulder roughly. 'Amit, what’s your problem? If you don’t explain yourself, don’t even think about leaving.'

Before he could finish, seven or eight burly men rushed in, all in black shirts with the Arya Group logo stitched above the pocket. Their gold chains glinted as they blocked the exit—Mumbai bouncers, unmistakably.

So this hotel belonged to his family too. The staff bowed to Rohan, the waiters hovered at his table—his territory, his father’s empire. I admired his audacity, but resented the abuse of power.

Priya quickly tried to mediate, her voice soft but urgent. 'Bas karo na, we’re all classmates here. Why let a little alcohol ruin the mood?' She glanced around, lowering her voice, eyes flicking to me with worry.

I nodded to her, grateful, but my patience was thin. My phone buzzed again—another missed call from Amma. 'Sorry, Rohan, I really do have something urgent. You’ve had enough to drink, maybe slow down a bit. If you all think I’ve ruined the mood, I’ll drink this cup of chai as an apology. Please accept it.'

I picked up the cup, feeling the heat in my palm. Priya exhaled in relief. But before I could sip, Rohan slapped the cup away. Hot tea splattered, the scent mingling with whisky. My palm stung, but I kept my composure.

'Amit, do you really think you can act all high and mighty just because you’re a government babu? I’m telling you, I’m not letting it slide this time. What could be so important for a little clerk like you?' His face was close, whisky and arrogance overpowering. Some faces looked away, others watched with glee.

A few classmates, worried things would get physical, stepped up with conciliatory words. Kunal came too. 'Amit, you’re in the wrong this time. Just apologise to Rohan and let it go. Why make everyone unhappy?' His tone was patronising, gesturing to the cup on the floor.

I clenched my fists under the table, pressing my lips together, just as Ma had taught me—never let anger show in public. Rohan continued, 'Amit, do you know why successful sarkari officers never come to reunions? Because they’re afraid everyone will ask them for favours. You think you can show off in front of me? Sapna dekh raha hai kya?'

I was about to retort when another classmate piped up, 'Forget it, Amit, just apologise to Rohan. If you really offend him, you might lose your government job.'

Inside, I chuckled. Lose my sarkari naukri because of Rohan? If they weren’t drunk, I’d think they were mad. I patted this classmate on the back. 'Don’t worry, yaar, these things aren’t as simple as they look.'

'Rohan, if you’re still hung up on the fact that I used to have a crush on your fiancée, let me make it clear: I’m not interested anymore. Everyone saw it—I even forgot her name. Since you won’t let me apologise with chai, can I leave now?'