Sunjeev Sahota - The Year of the Runaways

She arrived in a thick green duffel coat with fur-trimmed hood, removing it as she sat beside him on the bed. Her arms were brown and thin and beautiful. She smelled of almonds, and a few forgotten breadcrumbs stuck to the corner of her mouth. She must have rushed over here.

‘You didn’t have to come,’ he said.

‘Don’t be silly.’ She linked arms with him. ‘We’re friends. You sound like you’ve been crying.’

He told her about how his father had tried to strangle him and how he’d had to feed him forkfuls of rice like a baby. He told her that he’d been better the next day, they’d even played backgammon, but it must have all been a pretence, and that when he’d seen his feet hanging in the air like that he’d never felt so scared before in his whole life. He wasn’t sure why but he didn’t mention the helpful neighbour. He found himself saying that he’d untied the flex and lifted his father down.

‘I really thought I’d lost him.’ He felt her arms circle his waist. ‘I was so scared.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

She held him tighter and that felt good. To be wanted like that. He wanted her too. He put his arm around her back and kissed the top of her head. She didn’t seem to mind.

‘Thanks for coming.’

She held him tighter still. ‘We’re friends.’

He adjusted a little, kissed her forehead, and made the slow drive towards her lips. She responded, reaching up to meet his mouth. He’d never felt this kind of drowning sensation before. It was his first kiss. His first anything, and suddenly the world seemed like a less difficult place. Maybe things would turn out all right. His father would get better and he’d go to NIT and Jaytha would be welcomed into his family.

‘You’re the only one who understands,’ he said, easing her down, her head on his pillow. A nervous look crossed her face, which she tried to smile away. They resumed kissing. Her hands roved around his back as if not sure what they should be doing. His were on her waist, then her bottom. She pushed against his shoulders, but when he insisted on kissing her neck she seemed willing to let him. He wanted to show her how much he loved her. How much it meant to him that she understood. He pushed up her top and couldn’t believe that under it were her breasts. Just there under this thin top. The pink-brown tips revealed. He heard her say something and try to move away but he knew she liked him and he held her arms and kissed her breasts. She was saying it louder now and the louder she said it the stronger his grip, the more fiercely he applied his mouth to her body. He felt her knees in his stomach, pushing him away. That didn’t make sense. He rubbed his cock against her and she screamed but he was groaning himself and he bit her breasts and dug his fingers into the maddeningly soft flesh of her arms and pushed his weight down, down on her. He was telling her how much he really loved her when he felt a pair of arms around his waist yank him violently away. Randeep gasped, as if only now coming up for air. Abhijeet was telling him to get out. On the bed, Jaytha reached for her torn top, face turned away.

In an alleyway behind the art block, he ground his teeth and smacked his forehead against the wall, again and again, as if trying to knock all feeling out. Her frightened bedsunk face wouldn’t stop floating into his mind.

He walked for hours. The streets were quiet, the only light coming from a top-floor dance studio where a girl was pirouetting, practising for the end-of-year ball. He passed the tennis courts and sports gym and saw another light on in the student study rooms. He thought Jaytha might be there. This close to the exams, maybe she’d forgotten what he’d done and was in there revising. He opened the door. ‘Ja—’ It was some other girl, head bent delicately over her books. She turned round.

‘Sorry,’ Randeep said, and withdrew to the street.

Across the road an auto applied its wheezy brakes and two males got out. They had a crate of alcohol with them, though they already seemed pretty drunk.

‘Randeep,’ one of them said. Harshly?

They were friends of Abhi’s. ‘Oh, hi.’ He waited for them to do something, his stomach cowering. They must not have heard yet.

‘There’s a party. Wanna come?’

‘Not tonight, yaar.’

‘Sure? Plenty of. .’ The boy made a V with his fingers and ran his tongue inside it.

‘Arré, sahib — paise?’ the auto driver said, and the boys paid and told Randeep to come along later if he felt like it.

He stayed out all night, until he was sure Abhijeet would have left for lectures. As he re-entered the dormitory no one turned to stare. The few students were hunkered over desks, preparing for finals. He went up to his room and sat on the bed and scrolled down to Jaytha’s number. No one answered. He untied his shoelaces and fell against the pillow. Her smell lingered. Briefly, he noticed a new cricket poster on the door, and then he closed his eyes and hoped he’d sleep through it all.

The sun forced him up, hitting his face. He reached for his phone but she hadn’t called. Perhaps she’d left a note in his locker box. He used the kitchen stairwell, with its squeaky suggestions of guilt. There was no note from her. Only a card from the Senior Pastoral Care Warden ordering him to her office at four o’clock. Randeep read the card again. His hand started to shake. He thought he was going to cry.

Her office was on the sixth floor of the humanities block. He shared a lift with two teachers discussing their sons’ prospects in Canada, and followed the signs to the warden’s door. A battered plaque read Mrs Bimla Manapadhay, IPS. Randeep, head down, knocked.

Jaytha was already there, in a cushioned armchair at Mrs Manapadhay’s side. Her hair was tied back. She was dressed normally: blue blouse, black skirt and shoes. Randeep smiled with relief. She was all right. She was alive. Mrs Manapadhay asked him to take a seat. She looked too young for a widow-white sari. Her hair, deliberately messy, had two chopsticks criss-crossed into it, and her single gold bangle kept clinking against the glass top of her desk. Randeep sat down. His eyes were fixed on the patch of carpet between his shoes. He felt Mrs Manapadhay leaning across. She had a surprisingly soft voice.

‘Mr Sanghera, a complaint’s been lodged against you.’

He nodded.

‘It’s in relation to your behaviour towards Jaytha. That you tried to force yourself upon her in a sexual way.’

He nodded again. But he felt confused. He’d not thought of it in those stark terms. He’d thought he was only guilty of loving her too much too soon. Stupid boy. He didn’t dare look up.

‘You admit that you did behave inappropriately towards Jaytha and tried to force yourself upon her in a sexual way?’

‘I do,’ he croaked.

She sighed. ‘I should tell you that it was not Jaytha who made the complaint. It’s my unfortunate experience that girls rarely say anything at all.’

He nodded.

‘You’re very lucky that she insists on not involving the police. She doesn’t want to put her family through that.’

Again, he nodded. But he didn’t know what this all meant. He wished his hands would stop their trembling.

‘But we have our own internal procedures which Jaytha cannot influence and which we must adhere to. Even more so when there’s a caste factor involved.’ And she said that she was sorry but they had no choice other than to remove him from college and discredit all his examination results to date. This was with immediate effect. ‘Do you understand, Mr Sanghera?’

He nodded.

‘I’ll complete the paperwork by the end of the day and the SEB will be notified in due course. I suggest you speak to the college careers adviser while you still can about the options now available to you. But as you live only in Chandigarh I’m expecting you to have vacated your lodgings by tomorrow. Let your college warden know if you require assistance arranging your travel.’ She paused. ‘Is that all clear?’ she asked, not unkindly.