Ep 2

NEO POV:

The elevator doors opened to a shockingly electric environment. I mean, when you come to

such a colony, you expect people to be silent and, what’s the word, ‘sophisticated’ to the

point of being considered curt. But with the noise these kids made with their Ringa Ringa

and catch and hopscotch and whatnot, I almost felt like I was back in Nashik. I avoided eye

contact and went to the main gate. The path to the street was blocked by a team of sweaty T-

shirts and delirious outcries of boys of my age and less playing football.

Let me tell you something about me and football. First, I hate this game. Second, and by

no way because of the first pointer, I am no good at it; although, that doesn’t stop me from

admiring a good game when I see one. And admire I did the fat guy in the midfield as he

dribbled the ball between his legs. A tall stick lurched towards him. Our fatso quickly

defected to his left and furiously kicked the ball at a scared teenager who turned reflexively

to his side. The ball hit his elbow.

‘Hand!’ the fatso screamed in delight and duly encashed the free kick. I was impressed.

I looked at them from a distance, hoping they would notice and call me over. Maybe they

were too engrossed in the game or maybe they didn’t care about a stranger gawking at them.

I stood unheeded. Sighing, I made my way to the exit.

Spencer Mall is more of a two-floored convenience store. I was thrilled to spot an

escalator and hopped right on. The first floor hosts a small cafeteria consisting of three

chairs each around circular wooden tables. There is a glass counter on the left where you

get ‘The best Frankies in town’.

Confession—I had no idea what Frankies were. I wondered if they were so expensive

that it would drive my pride of being loaded away.

At the first floor, one takes a U-turn to face the cafeteria. I occupied one of the empty

tables and studied the menu. The contents were reassuring. A basic vegetarian Frankie cost

around forty and went up to fifty five if you wanted many fancy fillings. Schezwan paneer

Frankie commanded my interest. I went to place an order at the glass-top counter and there

she was—the Girl behind the Counter.

‘Hi! And what would you like to have today?’ she smiled at me affably. It was almost a

smile of recognition, as if she had been privileged to have known me since ages and that I

was her favourite customer. I bit on my braces—her perfect pearly whites probably never

needed dental treatment. The thick and sleek black tresses almost shone and one lock of hairhung cutely on her dusky face. Her eyes were everything the on-screen actors swoon to and

poets write couplets about. You get it, don’t you? She was probably a few years older than

me and wore a black T-shirt that read ‘Joe’s Frankies’.

I tried to power up. Speak up, I screamed inside and mentally rehearsed what I had to

say. Just order as you would normally do and say ‘Thank you’ when you get it. How hard is

it? A question popped in my head—how is schezwan pronounced? C and H are silent, duh,

came the answer. How can two consecutive letters be silent, I wondered. Well, it just

sounds better, doesn’t it? ‘Sez-waan’, I reasoned. But this is taking too long, way beyond

the line that separates a customer from this pint-sized nincompoop. And was that sweat on

my forehead?

‘Sir?’ the girl asked unflinchingly, her expressions intact. I hoped she wasn’t just

pretending to be calm while hunting for an alarm button under the counter.

‘One plate schezwan paneer Frankie,’ I said and instantly felt proud that I didn’t stutter.

Smooth, I praised myself.

‘That would be fifty rupees, sir,’ she looked into my eyes, smiling all the while.

I must tell you, gentle reader, that continuous eye contact is worse than browbeating. You

see, girls are not intimidating. Only pretty ones are. I understand I sound shallow but I call

upon the puberty-license.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***