“Excuse me” someone yelled in a hurried voice. When at a
public place, you don’t respond to random excuse me’s and that too coming from
a lady would certainly not be addressed to me. I kept doing what I was best at,
minding my own business. 2 seconds later, another “excuse me” and a gentle tap
on my shoulders startled me. It was for me, I thought and my heart skipped a
beat. The police within me started questioning me if I stared at someone, or said
something aloud which I shouldn’t have. I looked back to find a lady in her mid
twenties, clad in a pink top and jeans. Her bigger-than-face shades did
injustice to her otherwise pretty face. “Is this the counter for getting the
online tickets?”, she interrogated me. I replied with a cool “Ahaan !!”, stole
a glance of hers and looked in front. I was groggy having slept less than 3
hours the last night and this was the worse that could have happened, a pretty
girl talking to me when I was not looking my best. I cursed my room-mate, a die
hard Salman Khan fan. He somehow coaxed me into accompanying him for the 1st
day 1st show of Bhai’s latest adventure, “Ek tha tiger”. I hated
Salman Khan for his shitty movies, and now my room mate too, for waking me up
so early in the morning, just to see a stupid movie.
The counter had not opened yet and the crowd kept coming in.
I seriously expected a stampede to happen any second. People jostled their way
to the ticket counter. I was genuinely concerned about the damsel in distress,
who stood behind me. For a second, I thought of asking her to move in front of
me, but the sight of crowd which was still coming in huge number made me change
my mind. “You a big Salman khan fan”, she said as she tried to start a
conversation. “Big Salman Khan fan ??”, I felt as if someone abused me
publicly. “Well, I was kind of forced into it. I don’t understand his logic
defying films, but since it was off day and I did not have anything to do,
sitting in an otherwise air-conditioned room was after all not a bad idea”. She
broke into pearls of laughter. “Really, you don’t like Salman”, she questioned
the sanctity of my earlier statement. “I do not lie to pretty ladies”, I tried
my own ways to flirt with her. As I said this, we both laughed and I could
observe a number of raised eyebrows though my peripheral vision. I hitting on a
pretty lady, right in front of ever bachelor “Bhai” fans, was certainly not a
very pleasant sight.
“Its so hot out here, why can’t they have a shade for the
patrons atleast”, she complained with her eyebrows raised. “You are at Talkie
town, which offers ticket at less than half a price of what PVR does, what do
you expect”, would have been my usual response. “Yeah, no one cares about the
customer”, I joined the band wagon and cribbed about the perils of seeing a
movie. “You alone for the movie”, I couldn’t resist asking her. My deepest
insecurities told me that, she was here probably with her boyfriend (had ruled
out the fact that she was married from a single glance), or with her family,
both could have been highly catastrophic for my new found profound interest in
her. “I am here with my roomies”, she pointed out to gang of ladies, all of
whom wore shades of different shapes and sizes. Now, I was in complete fix. Is
she the one for me, or could she be my wingman, to get her prettier room-mate.
I contemplated, looked at the pros and cons, and finally decided to settle in
for the buck I had in my hand. “How about you ?” she boomeranged the same question
to me. I would have easily lied that I was alone and joined the girls gang, but
I realized I had earlier told her, how I was cajoled into seeing this movie, so
I had to utter out the truth.
I was still playing like a rookie before showing my prowess
at impressing a chick, when the ticket counter opened with a bang. I had no
other option, but to help myself with the ticket. I earned some grey points by
getting her the tickets too and helped ourselves out of the crowd. It was time
for the show and my room-mate who was waiting for me at the entrance started
panicking. He started calling me at the same time when I had to bid adieu to my
new princess. “Damn!!”, I said to myself after putting my cell in the silent
mode. “Well, thanks a lot” she said. Before I could say any other word she
followed it up with a “Bbye, see you around” giggled and hopped back to her
gang.
I was perplexed. “See you around ??”, but how ?? Did she
know me or even my name. May be she knew me from some common friends, or was
she just fooling around and used me to get the tickets in the crowd. The latter
made a lot of sense. I stood there brooding, feeling used and strolled my way
upto the entrance of the theatre. “What happened ? Did someone kick your ass in
the crowd”, my room mate joked seeing me upset.”Yeah, kind of”, I replied to
him. I wasn’t sure if she used me or I let myself being used. Either ways, I had
a company of a hot female in the crowd, made quite a few guys jealous in there.
As we stepped in the theatre, I looked all around if I could see her or any of
her friends. It was pitch dark in there and that made it literally impossible
to find her. I just wanted to walk upto her and ask if she just wanted to get
the tickets or striking a conversation with a random stranger was the part of
her plan. I decided never to help any female unless they asked about it explicitly,
ever. I decided to concentrate on the cheap samosa and popcorms rather than
brood about some female whom I met hardly a minute ago.
I was sure I would never see her again, even if I did, will not recognize her, and even if I did recognize
her, she would pretend she did not. Never did I know that not even a month
later, I would see her again, at a chaat counter, at my colleague’s wedding
reception. “Oh its sooo spicy, can you get me some water”, she yelled at the
same hurried tone, I couldn’t help looking back as the voice was very very
familiar. Damn, it was her, with water coming out of her kohl lined eyes,
induced by the extra spiciness of the chaat. She was trying hard to keep her
make up intact, when she looked up and caught me staring at her.
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