The Perfect Photo

Chapter 1

Saturday evening.

"He has accepted, Harsha", shrieked Neha from the bed across mine. She jumped off her bed almost letting her MacBook fly. She started twirling around the room like a ballet dancer repeating, "He has accepted, He has accepted."

It was five in the evening, and the weather outside my hostel room was so typical of Bengaluru. It was overcast with a hint of rainfall; with the chill breeze tingling the skin, this weather was capable of making even the most unromantic of people feel otherwise. But it didn't interest me in the slightest. I have been having a dreadful day till then, and the reason behind Neha's excitement could only make that go worse. I hadn't stepped off my bed the whole day, but I got down to reaffirm my assumption. I walked to Neha's bed and leaned into her laptop. Her Facebook page was open and on the top right corner of the screen read the notification, 'Pritam has accepted your friend request.'

Neha was still rejoicing in the moment. If someone from outside walked into our room, they would definitely conclude that some guy accepted her marriage proposal. But that was Neha, the sophisticated Neha Sharma from Panaji, Goa who has always known how to celebrate little things in life. I have been Neha's roommate for two years now. Most girls who started as roommates have at one point or the other developed issues with one another. But not us. Neha has been my best friend in college, and we have never had anything disruptive come between us.

Neha was still dancing around the room. We were lucky to have one of the bigger rooms in our hostel block. It was big enough to accommodate all our stuff with still enough space for Neha to twirl around without bumping into anything. We both went to MCSC college in Bengaluru, but we weren't classmates. I have taken up a major in commerce while she has chosen to study fashion. My college celebrated diversity in a big way and has the notion that diverse people learn a lot from each other. So they roomed the fashionable Neha Sharma with me, 'I don't give a shit about how I looked' Harsha Parkar from Hubli, Karnataka. I do have to concede that Neha has been a huge influence in my life over the past two years. I have learned a lot from her, such as the difference between a chemise and a slip dress which somehow seems to elude me even today.

Neha finished her dance moves and came back and dropped on her bed with her arms spread and panting. She was sweating a little now. Her fair skin covered by a thin sheath of sweat droplets which reflected the light from the reading lamp. She was wearing a white top which was now stuck right to her body showing off her figure. Neha was one of the hotter girls in my college. She had a sporty figure and was a fashion in college. She spends a fair bit of time in choosing her wardrobe, making sure that she was the trendsetter in the campus. She was tall with narrow hips and thin legs, a super model material. Any guy in my college would be lucky to have her as his girlfriend. But she had somehow chosen to be single all this while.

Neha opened her phone camera in selfie mode and pulled me closer so that I fitted in. While she posted it on Instagram, I stood there wondering what I should be doing to get a figure like hers, or rather how many meals I would have to skip.

I was single as well, not by choice, though. It wasn't that I was not pretty. I was charming in my own ways, but far from perfect, the perfection that Neha and some of the other girls in my college represented. I might have been a few inches shorter and a few inches wider than Neha. That wasn't just it. I have always spent too much time nerding out than spending time and effort in looking good and dressing up for parties. Neha was always willing to share her wardrobe with me, but size zero was just not my fit. I wished that my third year in college would be the year when I will finally get rid of my 'forever single' title.

"So things have already started going to plan, heh?", she said winking at me and bringing me back to reality. I did not respond. I could hear it starting to rain outside as I slowly walked back to my bed. Neha has implicitly assumed things seeing Pritam online. But I did not hear my phone make a sound. I opened Facebook and searched for Pritam Patel. The page loaded up, 'Request pending'.