Ep 3

NEO POV:

Yours truly is no exception to this rule. I feigned interest in the pile of tissues in the waste

bin behind her as I dug into my pocket. Finally, I produced the hundred rupee note and

extended my hand to pay. At the same time, she stretched hers too and ended up accidentally

touching my fingers. I cringed as my fingers tingled, feeling like a biscuit that’s been dunked

in the tea a bit too long. I went back to the table with eyes squeezed shut hard.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ I heard a voice in a couple of minutes. It was her voice. She meant me.

Me!

‘One schezwan paneer Frankie.’ She gave me a roll with salad and cubes of cottage

cheese lathered with sauce and gravy peeking out of the open end.

She had pronounced ‘Schezwan’ as ‘Shej-waan’. In spite of the culinary wonder in front

of me, my heart sank. I felt like stabbing myself with a spoon. Smooth.

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said. ‘Hope to see you again.’

That night, I slept smiling ear to ear. In spite of having absolutely no dreams involving

her, I woke up fresh as a deodorant!

The next day I borrowed a fifty from mother and pressed the elevator button. The same

noise on the ground floor lobby, the same guys playing the football, and this time, a penalty

shootout. I saw Fatso taking his position in the D and stopped walking. It was the Tall Stick

taking aim this time.

‘Ready!’ screamed the goalkeeper from Fatso’s team. The next instant, the ball was

kicked. Fatso used brute force and jerked aside the guys from the opposing team standing onboth sides and jumped high, his head deflecting the ball to a corner.

‘Foul!’ alleged a hysterical bunch. Fatso couldn’t care less and bent double laughing. Tall

Stick pushed him to the ground but Fatso was clearly having a time of his life. I grinned at

him. I was impressed. Again.

The same traffic, the same pedestrians, the same road, the same mall, the same first floor

and the same Frankie Girl. Bless her. I walked up to her and went straight to the counter.

Today, I had taken special measures to make myself presentable. I was wearing my best pair

of shoes and my wrist sported father’s metal-strap Sonata watch. I had taken the pain of

applying a small amount of face powder, just the perfect amount that separated complexion

from make-up. My gait was confident and tone smooth. I went up directly at the counter and

ordered without referring to the menu. She gave me her known-you-since-ages smile and

asked me to take a seat. Since there were hardly any customers, the mood was relaxed. I

took the seat facing her, careful not to slouch.

She was an epitome of effortless grace. The way she fluently dealt with cash, her eased-

out demeanour as she mimicked one of her colleagues, the elegance with which her features

aided every word of hers and the voice that wafted, like an elixir to the ears. The more I

observed, the more I was drawn towards her. Ask what her name is, I scolded myself. It

won’t compromise the national security. But I knew I wouldn’t. I dreaded the moment I

would finish my roll and walk back.

Finally, she summoned me and I went up to the counter. Taking the Frankie, I turned back.

I wanted to disappear from the spot that made me feel like a coward. I hurriedly walked to

the escalator. Even when I heard a minor commotion in the background, I didn’t bother to

check it. Like I even cared. As I was just stepping on it, I felt a pat on my shoulder.

It was her.

My heart violently jolted into a see-saw. She smiled at me. The same sunny smile. I

smiled back stupidly, not knowing what else to do.

‘Sir, you forgot to pay,’ she said.

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