Chapter 3: One Crore and a Nation Watching

Arjun went silent. All you could hear was the soft rustle of bedsheets through the phone’s mic.

Any second, I thought, he’ll unleash a savage comeback.

But after a low, mocking laugh, he just hung up—decisive and final. The busy tone was drowned out by the collective gasp in the studio.

The host tried to smooth things over, stretching his smile. “Looks like Mr. Malhotra really is tired after working all night.” He gestured for calm, but the whispers grew. Aunties started speculating about Arjun and Ritika’s supposed romance. The old uncle in the front row nudged his wife, shaking his head like he’d seen it all.

[Barrage: See? He doesn’t even want to talk to you, Meera. Take the hint.]

[Barrage: So much chemistry, Arjun really is asleep—maybe two hours ago Ritika was in bed with him, sob sob sob.]

[Barrage: Meera, get lost. You know you’re the third wheel, and we even stood up for you before. Backstabbers never end well.]

Sometimes I wonder if being on TV is like living in one giant joint family—everyone gossiping, everyone judging, no escape from the drama. One day you’re the family’s favourite, the next, you’re the one who burnt the chai.

I could feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. Normally, Arjun’s tongue is so sharp he gives himself a headache. Why is he so unreliable when I actually need him?

The camera zoomed in on my phone. I tried to exit WhatsApp, but before I could, a notification popped up:

[Your HDFC card ending in 8975 received a real-time NEFT transfer of ₹1,00,00,000 at 08:13 on September 11...]

At first, I stared, thinking it was a glitch. But the bank, the timing, those zeroes—sab kuch match kar raha tha. My hands trembled. Suddenly, I heard my mother’s voice in my head, scolding: “Meera, kitni baar bola, don’t mess around with money, especially on TV! What if your chachi or bua sees?”

One crore?

Arjun must be totally out of it. That kind of money—he might as well send me to Kashi for my last rites! I remembered my dadi saying, “If you get too much money at once, beta, you’ll end up giving it to charity or for someone’s wedding.” My mind raced with what Chachi would say if she saw this: “Finally, Meera found a rishta—paisa wala!”

The studio exploded. Everyone gasped, eyes glued to the row of zeroes on the screen.

The host blurted, “Did Mr. Malhotra really just transfer that to you?”

“No, no, maybe it’s the studio paying her fee...”

But before he could finish, Arjun’s messages started pouring in:

[Little bit of money is yours.]

[I really am not wearing any clothes.]

[If you’ve got the guts, answer the video call.]

Suddenly, the video call ringtone echoed through the whole studio. The studio AC was on full blast, but a bead of sweat trickled down my back. Even the spot boy in the corner had stopped mid-chai sip. My heart thudded so loudly I was sure the whole country could hear. Was I about to become a meme, or something much, much worse?