Chapter 2: Birthday Crowds and Electric Touches

1

I’m intersex, and I have a secret crush on my cold and aloof roommate, Arjun.

It was Arjun’s birthday.

Just as if Lakshmi herself had smiled at me, the Bluetooth mouse I’d ordered from Flipkart finally arrived that day, the cardboard box still warm from the afternoon sun and the courier uncle’s scooter.

Arjun’s old mouse had conked out a few days ago, so my delivery couldn’t have picked a better time to show up.

How the news of Arjun’s birthday spread, I’ll never know. Maybe someone posted on our college WhatsApp group, or maybe the chaiwala outside our hostel is a secret informant. But somehow, everyone knew.

Someone’s perfume mixed with the sharp smell of samosas, and the corridor buzzed with half-heard gossip. Arjun, being the heartthrob of the campus (even the canteen aunty tries to slip him extra samosas), had a whole crowd lining up with gifts—chocolates, perfume, some even gave him fancy gel pens from Stationery Bazaar.

I, being the quiet, wallflower type—just another face in the crowd—stood right at the edge, fidgeting with my dupatta (okay, shirt sleeve) and wondering how to give him my simple present without anyone noticing.

While I was still overthinking, biting my lower lip, Arjun, as if he had an inbuilt radar for my awkwardness, reached through the throng, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me to his side. I almost yanked my hand away, like Amma would if a lizard dropped from the ceiling. His eyes—sharp as always, but softer now—leaned closer and asked, “Why are you hiding all the way over there by yourself, Kabir?”

His touch sent a jolt through me, and I clutched the mouse-shaped package like it was my only lifeline. “Uh, I remember your mouse broke the other day, na? I happened to get a new one, so… I thought I’d give it to you.”

That’s when the WhatsApp forwards started up again in my mind, as if my subconscious aunties couldn’t resist:

[He just handed himself over, what a little fool.]

[This clueless kid still doesn’t realise that the mouse is now connected to his most sensitive spot.]

[Isn’t this silly baby intersex? Wah, even better!]

[From now on, whenever his roommate spins the mouse wheel with his middle finger, won’t this silly baby get so worked up he’ll grab the bedsheet and stick out his tongue like a rasgulla?]

[Beta, don’t give gifts on birthdays—bad luck for love!]

I frowned, chewing the inside of my cheek. How do these WhatsApp forwards know I’m intersex? Did someone’s elder sister’s neighbour’s son overhear my secret? And what do they mean by connected? How could Arjun spinning a mouse wheel affect me? For a second, I glanced at Arjun’s hands—his fingers were long, fair, the nails neatly trimmed, knuckles standing out just so. Hands made for holding, I thought, then immediately scolded myself for getting filmy.

He looked down at the gift, and his eyes crinkled with a rare, genuine smile. “For me?”

Another WhatsApp forward popped up, this one dripping with that typical aunty concern:

[Little fool, you even gave away your most precious thing. What will you do if he takes advantage of you in the future?]

[Dummy, it’s not too late to take it back. If you don’t, you’ll lose all control and end up crying, mark my words.]

But honestly, I’d only bought this one gift. It’s just a mouse, right? What’s the big deal? I looked around, hoping no one else had heard the mental forwards buzzing in my head.

But while I was zoning out, Arjun’s hand had already reached for the mouse. My stomach did a somersault, and before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Wait, don’t touch it yet—”

But I was too late. Arjun’s thumb hovered over the wheel, and I forgot to breathe. His slender fingers spun the mouse wheel, and in that instant, my knees turned to jelly. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, a low moan escaping my throat, shame flooding my face.

My eyes reddened, and tears threatened to spill over. All around, classmates glanced at me—some curious, some snickering quietly as if they’d caught me tripping on my shoelace. I felt every eye on me, like when someone’s ringtone goes off in the middle of a lecture.

I bit down harder, fighting to hold in the noise, my whole body rigid.

Arjun frowned, his voice laced with genuine worry. He reached out and touched my forehead, palm cool and steady. “Kabir, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you feeling sick? Should I take you to the infirmary?”

I shook my head furiously, forcing a weak smile. “N-no, I’m fine, really.” My voice sounded fake even to me, but he didn’t press further. I stared at the mouse now nestled in his palm, heart racing.

Turns out the WhatsApp aunties were right. This mouse was… connected to me. In the most embarrassing, unthinkable way. Every time Arjun touched it, I felt it deep inside—the kind of feeling I could never tell anyone about, not even my therapist.

Regret crashed over me. I wanted to grab the mouse back, to erase the whole incident. But before I could muster up the courage, Arjun reached over, ruffling my hair the way he always did. “Thanks for the gift, Kabir. I really like it.” His eyes sparkled, his smile lopsided. “I’ll use it every day, promise.”

Every day? My head swam. For a second, I thought I might faint right there on the hostel floor, surrounded by wrappers and birthday balloons.

The WhatsApp forwards cackled gleefully in my mind:

[Gift given, no returns! Now he’s fully at his mercy.]

[Perfect, the little one’s going to get played with every single day by his roommate. Arrey, this is better than any TV serial!]