“Please remove your car, it’s in the wrong slot. Flat 405”. The yellow post – it on her windscreen early in the morning was enough to make Mira fume. It had been late when she had returned from work last night and she had been very tired, so she must have unknowingly parked in the wrong slot. She reversed out, grabbed the post – it and wrote on it’s back, “Happy now?” in capital letters and thrust it in the post box of flat 405.
There she was, Mira Singh, all of twenty three, in her first job in Bombay
Mira had just landed a good job at an advertising firm and was learning the ropes of the business. Her parents were in Pune and so for the first time, she was completely on her own. It was fun, cooking for oneself and keeping house. Now she understood why her mother used to fume and fret when the bai did not turn up. Life was rocking, her colleagues were nice, work was challenging, what was missing? Adventure of the romantic kind of course.
Well, there was Sanjay at the office, the local flirt, in whose company time flew in an interesting manner, but the problem was that he was the same with every female in sight from the age of six to sixty. Payal, her friend, had warned Mira about him earlier. So she dimpled and twinkled in his presence and batted her eyelashes at him and kept it at that.
Mira reached office before time as she had to give a presentation to a new client. Everything was ready. The client walked in dot at ten o’ clock, dressed in a blue shirt and a striped tie. He looked a very nice person, listened attentively and asked pertinent questions. Mira felt her interest awakening. At the end of the discussion he got up to leave.
“Thank you very much Mira, I will discuss it with my business partner and get back to you,” he told her.
“When will that be?” She asked.
“Over dinner… My business partner is my wife” he smilingly told her.
“Too bad”, she thought, “end of the road here”. That’s the problem, she realised, all the good guys were committed or taken and the rest were not interested. Where was Mr. Right?
“How are you, beta?” her mother asked at night. The night call was a strictly observed ritual. A couple of days back her mobile had not been charged and she had fallen asleep. Her worried parents called up Balakrishnan Uncle from the next flat to check up on her. If he hadn’t been able to wake her up and confirm all well back to Pune, her parents would have driven down in three hours flat.
The next morning she was highly annoyed to find another post – it on her windscreen. “Your parking is atrocious. Your right wheel is in my slot. Please be careful. Flat 405.” Who was this serpent in Eden
“Arre Madam, that is Mr. Rao. He is that short, bad tempered gentleman. Yesterday he had a fight with Mr. Kumar from the fifth floor about the garbage.” “Oh no!” she thought, trust her to be cheeky and antagonize the volcano in the block. She wished she could open the post box and retrieve the note, but alas, it was too late. Why couldn’t the occupant of Flat 405 be the young, handsome guy she had seen in the lift the other day? The one wearing faded jeans, T-shirt, a pleasant expression on his face with a crooked smile? Mira’s dimple had peeped out, but her floor came and she had to get out of the lift. “Be realistic”, she told herself “he’s probably married to a fantastic looking female and has a brood of kids”. Even though he didn’t look the shackled type or the harassed dad, one could never be sure.
“Let’s go out for lunch,” suggested Payal as work was at a standstill for some time. Together they went to the restaurant next door and ordered their usual fix - burgers. More interesting than the food were the guys there. Most of them were smart and good looking, good to drool over but Mira knew that none of them would be intelligent and interesting to talk to. However, Payal and Mira had a wonderful time fantasizing and passing comments.
It was late when Mira returned. She was tired and the parking was dimly lit as usual. She misjudged the distance and dented flat 405’s car, a smart Skoda. Surely it was strong enough to withstand the tiny bump made by a delicate Nano. “Damn, damn!” she cursed out loud “now I am done for”. With shaking hands, she opened the door and went to inspect the damage done. Sure enough the dent was visible. With her hands still trembling, she took out a piece of paper and wrote, ‘I am extremely sorry, I have dented your car. I shall reimburse the repair expenses. Flat 306.’ She dropped it into the mail box feeling scared and nervous.
Her low mood was apparent to her mother. “What happened? Are you feeling ok? Is everything alright at work? Take a day’s leave and come back home tomorrow.” She was grilled over the phone that night.
“No, Ma…! Everything is alright. I am just feeling very tired.” She deftly fielded the questions and with suitable responses ended the call.
“Where is my knight in shining armour when I need him the most?” Mira thought. Female equality was all very well, but she was realising the comfort of a strong shoulder at hand. She wished there was a certain someone in her life, someone who was a friend and companion all in one and on whom she could depend.
The next morning there was another note on her windscreen, “Your parking is really and truly atrocious. Please come to my flat at 8 pm to discuss the damages. Flat 405.”
The day would not pass. Every minute dragged. Mira was irritable, distracted and couldn’t concentrate on her work. She saw her boss looking at her in exasperation as she fumbled in her presentation. Where was her confident self? Why was she getting so unnerved by this Mr. Rao. He couldn’t eat her up, could he? At most he would be nasty, demand a lavish compensation and that would be it. She just needed to avoid him and more importantly, his Skoda, in future, and all would be fine.
Sharp at 8 o’clock, she made her way upstairs with shaking knees and a dry mouth. The entrance to flat 405 had a forbidding look. There was no name plate nor were there any artefacts or plants to soften the stark appearance. Mr. Rao opened the door with his usual frown. “I have come about the car,” she managed to say, “I am so sor… ”
“It’s my son’s car.” He cut off her apology. “Please come in. I will just call him.”
A few precious moments’ respite were granted to her. Then the son strolled into the room, faded jeans, T – shirt, crooked smile and the twinkle in his eyes very much in evidence. Mira’s dimple peeped out. Suddenly the world started looking very interesting.
Was this the adventure with a capital ‘A’ that she had been looking for?
Hi you romantic! I simply love it
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