Chapter 5

Akira

“Akira, where are you going so early on a Saturday morning?” Megha asked as she sipped her chai. My three roommates looked like they’d just rolled out of bed. “I have this site visit with a classmate for our studio project. We need to roam around the city and find a prospective site for us to use for a design project for the rest of the semester.” I knew Shruti, my other roommate, would relate to this. Like me, she was in the construction industry and studied construction management, and had experience going for site visits. Poor Megha and Vidya were the tech people in our group and had to study all the computer programming jibber-jabber. Shruti prodded, “So, who is this classmate? Is he Indian?” “No, babe. Not an Indian. His name is Sam.” Immediately a chorus of Oohs and Aahs broke out, and I wondered if I should proceed any further. That decision was taken out of my hands when Vidya said, “Tell us more. You and Shruti are our only hopes to meet hot and cute American boys. Megha and I don’t even have any American classmates.” The considerable lack of Americans in their computer science classes was a huge disappointment for them. On the other hand, Shruti and I had an abundance of American classmates. Maybe because most of the Americans had the freedom to study whatever they were passionate about, which gave them a hundred different career options. Or maybe because Indian students were usually forced into two professions—engineering or medicine. The rest of us, who were interested in doing something other than that, were paid so little that we couldn’t afford to continue our passion in India. “Well, he has these gorgeous blue-gray eyes. You should see them. I can look at them for hours, not that I’ve had an opportunity. All we’ve exchanged so far are smiles, nods, and polite hellos. And, he is so smart. He doesn’t talk a lot in the class, but he does have a hundred questions during the lectures. But I don’t think he has a lot of friends here. He keeps to himself and doesn’t talk to a lot of people. And you know, he seems like a very professional guy. Every day, he wears these boring clothes, like a

sweater or a shirt or sweater over a shirt. And it’s always either blue, black, or gray.”

Vidya snorted and pointed at my dress, saying, “You want him to dress up in bright yellow clothes with insects printed on them?” I snorted at the image of Sam in something as cool as that. What I didn’t admit was how he made everything he wore look so sexy. Every sweater and jeans combo, or white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, paired with the thick, black watch that he wore every single day, made him look lethal. Like just a glare from him would make you cower. Every day, his hair was styled in a sleek look. Even by the end of the day, not one hair would be out of place. I usually went from a ponytail to a braid to a bun in the span of a few hours. I don’t know why I kept noticing him. Maybe because he was my first friend, or more like my first acquaintance, in the class. Or maybe because he was so prim and proper, I wanted to ruffle his feathers a bit and make him less him.

“So, is he friendly with you? How are you going to work with him?” asked Megha.

“Oh yes, he is friendly with me, I guess. As I said, it’s not like we’ve talked all that much. But he was the first person I talked to in our class. So, we kind of acknowledge each other with some sort of greeting every day. And some days, he sits beside me in lectures.” “So, when and where are you guys going today?” Vidya asked me.

“We’re going to explore the Battery Park and Wall Street area and walk up north from there. See what we find.”

I looked at my watch, and it was 10:25 a.m. already.

“We’re meeting at eleven. I better hurry. He’s very punctual. I’ll see you all later.”

I’d never been happier about having an apartment near the university campus. It was a ten-minute walk from the university entrance, so all I needed to do was pack my bag and leave. In moments, I was out the door with my sketchbook, favorite pencils, a camera, and a water bottle. The crisp, fresh air hit my face, and I inhaled a big gulp of coolness. I’d never get used to it. I didn’t understand why some people thought New York City’s air wasn’t clean enough. Where I come from, the weather was so hot, and the air so polluted, that every time I stepped my foot out the door, I had to cover my face with a scarf, put on my sunglasses, hand gloves that covered my whole arms and a helmet to protect my head while driving my two-wheeler vehicle. The air in New York was heaven to me. It was almost the end of September, and the weather had started to cool down a little after the brutal heat of August. I opened the group chat my siblings and I shared as I walked toward the campus. And like every time, I was struck by the monumentality of the buildings around me. I sent them a selfie showing my morning time and the streets of New York. I clicked a few pictures of the buildings along the “street,” which ran east–west in Manhattan, and sent them in the group chat. They were mostly three- to four-storied pre-war structures, usually made of bricks, sometimes red and sometimes yellow, with stone quoins at the corners, and decorated with ornamental doors, windows, pediments, and cornices.

A few comments of Wow and Amazing popped up in the messages. Once I walked along the “avenue,” the road running in the north–south direction, I clicked a few pictures and sent them again. My attention kept getting divided between chatting with my cousins and looking at the delicious food people were having in the outdoor cafés. Despite being a vegetarian, everything looked and smelled delicious. I was walking along Broadway Avenue, laughing at the photo Ria sent of Mom shouting at Abhi, when I spotted Sam heading toward the university entrance from the opposite direction. He walked as if each of his steps had a purpose. Even when he entered the classroom, or went for a bathroom break, his stride didn’t loosen. He walked with his shoulders straight and his gait smooth. His entire demeanor oozed confidence. I wished for half of his self-assuredness. Today, he wore tan pants and a dark brown cardigan over a white shirt, which had been folded up to a little below his elbows. He always wore his thick black watch, which went perfectly with his square-ish, black-rimmed glasses. His dark brown leather bag was slung across his shoulders, his hand holding the belt of the bag. Objectively, he was just a student walking toward the university.

Personally speaking, why did he have to look so hot in something so basic? And how could a guy that hot be so aloof? I waited for the signal to turn green when I noticed Sam waving at me from across the street. I waved back and gave him a smile, indicating with a raised finger that I’d be right there. Today would be the first time that I would be out exploring the city, and I was so pumped. The only thing that could make it better was some good conversation with Sam and being able to find a site for our project.

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