My name is Isha. I am 20 years old. I am a scholarship student at St. Xavier's College, Mumbai. My bank balance is 73 rupees. My biggest fear is the library fine.
His name is Rahul Malhotra. He is 21 years old. He is the heir to Malhotra Industries. His bank balance has more zeros than my roll number. His biggest problem is choosing which car to bring to college.
We are from two different planets. His planet has AC canteens, valet parking, and Switzerland trips. My planet has local train passes, second hand books, and 10 rupee chai.
These planets should never crash. But on Day 1 of college, they did.
*Day 1 of College. 9:30 AM. Library.*
I was already late. My bus from Virar broke down near Dadar. The conductor shouted at everyone to get down. I ran the rest of the way. My left sandal was brown. My right sandal was black. I had worn two different sandals in the rush. My dupatta was stuck in the bus door and now it had a big tear. I looked like a meme.
The library line was long. The librarian, Mrs. Deshmukh, was a strict woman with glasses on a chain. She looked at the clock when my turn came.
Mrs. Deshmukh: "Name?"
Me: "Isha Sharma. First year http://B.Com."
Mrs. Deshmukh: "You are 32 minutes late for card registration. Fine is 500 rupees. Pay now or come next month."
500 rupees. That was my food budget for 10 days. My mother gave me 2000 rupees for the whole month. Rent was 800. Travel was 600. I had 600 left for food, printouts, and emergencies.
I opened my old college bag. The zip was broken. I took out my purse. It had one 50 rupee note, two 10 rupee notes, and three 1 rupee coins. 73 rupees total.
My throat went dry. I could feel tears coming. Not because of money. Because of shame. Everyone in line was watching. Rich girls with iPhones were whispering.
I was about to say "I will come next month" when a voice came from behind me.
"Her fine. I will pay."
The voice was calm. Deep. Like it was used to solving problems with money.
I turned around slowly.
He was standing there. White shirt. Sleeves folded to his elbows. Black blazer with the St. Xavier's logo. Black pants. Shoes that were shining even in the library tubelight. His hair was perfect. His jawline was sharper than my future.
Rahul Malhotra.
I knew his name. His face was on the big banner outside the college gate. "Welcome Freshers! Chief Guest for Inauguration: Mr. Rahul Malhotra, Youngest Director, Malhotra Industries."
He did not look at me. He took out his wallet. It was not a wallet. It was a small leather card holder. He pulled out a 500 rupee note with two fingers and kept it on the counter. Like the note had no value.
Mrs. Deshmukh took the money. She gave me a form.
Mrs. Deshmukh: "Fill this. And thank Malhotra sir."
Rahul was already signing a small register. Probably a donation register. He wrote his name and walked away. He did not wait for my thank you. He did not even make eye contact.
I filled the form with shaking hands. My name was wrong in two places.
When I got my library card, Mrs. Deshmukh said something that burned me for days.
Mrs. Deshmukh: "You are lucky beta. Malhotra sir pays fines for 10 to 12 students every month. He calls it his 'education charity'. You won a lottery today."
Charity. Lottery. I was a charity case. A lottery ticket. My cheeks were so hot I thought I would get fever.
I wanted to run behind him and return his 500 rupees. But I only had 73. And my pride was not worth 427 rupees of debt.
*Day 8 of College. 4:15 PM. Commerce Building.*
Mumbai rain is not romantic when you are poor. It is a problem. My last lecture got over. The sky was black. I had no umbrella. My notebook was full of notes for accountancy. If it got wet, one week of work was gone.
All the rich kids were laughing and running to their cars. BMW, Audi, Mercedes. Drivers with umbrellas were opening doors. Tanya Singhania, fashion heiress, was sitting in a red Thar. She saw me and smiled. Not a good smile.
I stood under the shade of the commerce building. Water was dripping from the roof on my head. I was counting how many minutes I could wait before the watchman would tell me to leave.
A black car stopped right in front of me. Not BMW. Not Audi. It was a black Range Rover. The window rolled down slowly.
It was him again. Rahul Malhotra. He was on his phone. He ended the call and looked at me for one second.
Rahul: "You are the library girl."
His voice had no emotion. Like he was stating a fact. The sky is blue. The grass is green. You are the library girl.
I crossed my arms. My wet dupatta was sticking to me.
Me: "I have a name. It is Isha."
Rahul: "Isha." He said my name once. Like he was testing how it sounds. "Get in the car. You will fall sick."
My mother's voice came in my head. Clear like a loudspeaker. "Ameer logon se door raho, beta. Ye log gareebon ko khel samajhte hain. Izzat se badhkar kuch nahi."
I looked at his car. Then at my wet notebook. Then at the sky that was getting darker.
Me: "I don't take lifts from strangers."
Rahul: "I am not a stranger. I paid 500 rupees for your fine. That legally makes me your creditor. And creditors can give lifts to their debtors. Get in."
He said it so seriously that for a second I almost believed there was a law like that.
I should have said no. Isha Sharma from Virar does not sit in Range Rovers. But my accountancy notebook was my future. I opened the door and sat in.
The car smelled like expensive perfume and silence. The seats were leather. Softer than my bed at home. The AC was too cold. I started shivering.
He did not say anything for 5 minutes. He was driving himself. No driver. That surprised me.
Then he pressed a button. Hot air came from the AC. He still did not look at me.
He stopped the car after 10 minutes. We were still 2 gali away from my chawl.
Rahul: "Walk from here. This car cannot go inside."
I looked outside. It was true. The gali was small. But I knew the real reason.
Me: "You care what people will say if they see me getting down from your car?"
Rahul: "No." He finally looked at me. His eyes were black and serious. "But you should care. You are not me. People will talk about you, not me. Girls like you get names very fast in this world."
He was insulting me. Or he was protecting me. I could not tell. My heart was confused.
I opened the door. My sandal made a squish sound on the wet road.
Me: "Thanks for the lift... creditor."
I closed the door before he could reply.
That night I could not sleep. Because a rich boy had called me "girls like you" and then put the heater on for me.
*Day 20 of College. 2:00 PM. Classroom.*
Professor Khanna was making groups for the business project. "Four students per group. Choose wisely. This is 30 marks."
In 2 minutes, all the rich kids made groups. Tanya, Vikram, and Sameer were one group. The NRI kids were another. The scholarship students were all looking at each other. We were the leftovers.
Professor Khanna pointed at me. "Isha, you join Rahul's group. They are only three."
My heart stopped. His group had Rahul, Tanya Singhania, and Vikram Mehta, whose father was a minister. And now me. The 73 rupees girl.
I walked to their desk. Tanya was looking at my bag. It was a free bag I got from a coaching class. The brand name was peeling off.
Tanya: "Do you even have a laptop for the presentation? Or can you afford color printouts? This is an A grade project, not a school craft."
Her words were knives. I wanted to pick up my bag and run out of college forever.
Before I could speak, Rahul closed his MacBook. He did not look up. He did not look at Tanya. He did not look at me. He looked at his screen and said in the same bank balance voice:
Rahul: "She is in my group. That means she can afford anything this project needs. Group meeting at my house. 5 PM sharp. Don't be late."
He stood up and left. Tanya's face was red. Vikram was smiling like he was watching a movie.
I was still standing there. He had defended me. Or he had claimed me as his property. Again, I could not tell.
*Day 20. 5:00 PM. Malhotra Mansion, Juhu.*
His house was not a house. It was a white mansion with a big black gate that opened by itself. The garden was bigger than my college ground. There were three big dogs running around. They were the size of small calves. A watchman took us inside.
I was scared to breathe. My sandals were leaving marks on the marble floor.
But his room was different. It was on the first floor. It was big, but it was messy. There were posters of bikes on the wall. Clothes on the chair. One PlayStation. And one photo frame on the side table. It was an old photo of Rahul as a small boy with an old woman. She was wearing a simple saree and smiling. His dadi.
We started work. Tanya and Vikram were talking about their trip to Bali and how the project should be "aesthetic". I was silent. I was scared my ideas would sound poor.
At 8 PM, a servant came with a big tray. There were sandwiches, fries, and cold coffee for them. And in front of me, the servant kept a different plate. It was a big plate of hot rajma chawal. Steam was coming out. There was a spoon of ghee on top. It smelled like my home.
I looked at Rahul. He was typing on his laptop. He did not look up.
Rahul: "Dadi saw you on the CCTV when you came in. She told the kitchen staff. She said 'the thin girl looks like she hasn't eaten a home meal in days'. So she sent this. Don't waste it. Dadi gets angry."
He said it like he was giving a weather report. But my eyes were burning. Someone's dadi noticed me. Someone's dadi thought I looked hungry.
I ate every grain of rice. It was the best meal I had in Mumbai. Tanya did not eat her sandwich. She was looking at me and then at Rahul.
*Day 45 of College. The Rain Again.*
We were not friends. We were not enemies. We were something in between.
He would pay for my printouts and say, "Add it to your tab. Return when you are a CEO."
I would keep his class notes ready when he missed lectures for business meetings and say, "Add it to your tab. Return when you fail http://B.Com."
He would drop me 2 gali before my home. Always.
I would get achaar from my mom for his dadi because he once said, "I miss dadi's achaar when she is in Delhi."
Tanya found me alone in the canteen one day.
Tanya: "Why do you follow him everywhere? Listen, scholarship girl. Rahul Malhotra will marry me or someone like me. Our fathers are doing a merger next year. Business marriage. You are just a timepass before he gets serious. Don't fall for him. You will be hurt."
I had no answer. Because I was scared she was speaking the truth. What was I? A charity case? A debtor? A timepass?
That evening, it rained again. I was standing under the same commerce building. Same spot. No car came today.
I was tired. Tired of being confused. Tired of being poor. Tired of being a "maybe" in someone's life. I decided to walk home in the rain.
I took one step out and then I saw him.
No Range Rover. No blazer. No shoes.
He was standing in the rain. In a simple black t-shirt and jeans. His hair was wet. Water was dripping from his face. He was looking at me.
He did not come under the shade. He stood there, in the rain, waiting.
Rahul: "Why did you not call me for a lift today?"
Me: "Why are you standing in the rain like a fool? Where is your car?"
Rahul: "Car is for creditors and debtors. And business." He took one step closer. Rain was very loud. "I left the car at home. Because today I am not here as a creditor." He stopped. He looked down, then at me. "I am here as..." He stopped again. The word was hard for him. "As Rahul. Just Rahul. No Malhotra. No money."
My heart was beating in my ears.
Rahul: "Will you walk with me? In the rain? For free? No debt. No business. Just... walk?"
My mother's voice was silent today. My brain was silent. My scholarship was silent. Only my heart was shouting.
I took one step into the rain. My sandal got wet. My hair got wet. My soul got wet.
I said, "Yes."
We walked side by side. Not a word. Just the sound of rain and our footsteps. Two people from two planets. One was a billionaire. One had 73 rupees in her bag. Both were wet. Both were stupid. Both were... something new.
I did not know it then, but that was Day 1 of us.
Not friends. Not lovers. Not creditor and debtor.
Just Rahul.
Just Isha.
And a 500 rupee library fine that was about to become the most expensive debt in the world. Because some debts you never want to repay. ....
Author's Note:
`Do you think Rahul is falling for Isha, or is this just friendship? Comment 🌧️ if you believe it's love, or 💼 if you think it's still just business. 100 comments and Chapter 2 drops tomorrow at 10 AM! In Ch-2: Tanya's big attack and the first time Rahul takes a stand for Isha!.
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