The Perfect Encounter

She rushed out of the cab, handing over some crumbled notes for the fare. Unwilling to wait for change, she sprinted across the gates of Prithvi Theatre to make it in time for the show. Everyone in India adheres to Indian Standard Time; all except Prithvi Theatre – they start their plays bang on time. A staunch supporter of punctuality, today she’d have to bare the sweet brunt of her own principles. Even as she bolted towards the theatre, she could hear the faint sound of bells ringing in the distance, announcing the doors for entry have shut.

“I’m just a few seconds late, can you let me in?” She said catching her breath.  

“Two-and-a-half minutes, and no.” Said the gatekeeper whose guts she’d already begun to hate. He was stout, dark and sported a Nathulal moustache.

“I know how this works okay? I’m a regular here. Right now the director is chatting up the crowd to make up for the backstage delay. I won’t be interrupting anything” Yeah, she was relentless like that.

“Lest you interrupt that important proceeding? That dialogue is a tradition here, just like the doors shutting on time.” He replied. She had a feeling he was starting to enjoy their back-and-forth. She was lending meaning to his idle two-hour guard shift, may be even providing material for him to go back to his wife at night, and for once, have a mildly interesting incident to narrate.

Unwilling to give Nathulal more fodder for his story, she began to retreat when she heard someone say, “Let us in, will you? There was too much traffic today.” She looked up to find a caramel-skinned, lean boy standing at about 5 feet 11 inches, make puppy eyes at Nathulal.

Nathu retorted, “Are you from Bombay?”

“Yes” The boy responded.

“Then you’re not allowed to refer to the Bombay traffic as an excuse. You might as well cite the potholes on the road as an excuse” The real Nathulal would have never been this rude to us.

Barging in, she said to the new entrant in this scenario, “Let it go. We’re going to lose this war of words.”

“You’re right. He’s painfully good at his job. I bet if he was present at a bank heist, he’d mindfuck the robbers to turn back and leave.” He said, as they turned away from the entry gate.

“This is a bummer. All of my friends are inside.” She sighed.

“Mine too. I think I’ll just wait for them at the cafeteria.” He replied.

She nodded to acknowledge him, and began to walk towards the quaint bookstore next door. She had 45 minutes to kill until the interval.

“Do you want to join me? We’re both stuck outside and misery enjoys company” He quickly blurted out, watching her leave.

“Hmm..Why not? I’ll get us a place” She said.

“And I’ll get us some chai” Pat came his reply.

She made her way to find a table close enough to the flute player; she liked having background score to her interactions.

“There you go. Sulemaani Chai on the house! I think the waiter probably overheard us, felt pity.” He said as he seated himself across her.

“Either that or you made your puppy face again” She said as she circled her palms around the steaming hot, free chai.

“This face has failed me today. It didn’t stir the watchman one bit.” He said, mocking his own anger.

“Men don’t have many other weapons at their disposal. I don’t blame you for trying” She said. Continuing on, “Are you a regular here?”

“Do I watch a lot of plays? No. I was talked into coming here. I thought I was walking into a movie theatre, hence the characteristic delay” He replied.

“Tried to escape the national anthem, eh?” She smiled, knowingly.

“Aren’t we all?” He smiled back at her. “Theatres and movies aren’t my passion anyway. Flying is”

“You know normal people just list reading or music as their passion. You have expensive taste Mister.” She remarked.

He started off, “Can’t you see the appeal? Soaring in the skies, the speed cutting through air...”

She cut in right there, “The free food, the complimentary toiletries.. I do, I do. I’m starting to understand your fascination”

“I’m glad you do. Few people realize the marvel of being between clouds. Just because the invention is old, doesn’t mean it still isn’t mind-boggling.” He said, passionately.

“I agree. I can’t decide what feeling gets me more ecstatic – an airplane taking off, or a camel trying to get on its feet. Personally, both give me the jitters.” She replied, jokingly.

His lingering smile turned into words when he said, “Mock away, mock away. Let’s hear what gives you a high?” He asked.

“You mean besides Haywards 5000?” She asked.

“Yes! Not to belittle the great invention that desi daaru was. What else?” He coaxed.

She sat there waiting for a few moments mulling on her response. He patiently waited, studying her face.

“I don’t know. I’ve always gotten through life eliminating options. I know what doesn’t make me tick..But that feeling of utter passion? No, that’s alien to me.” She replied, slowly.

“Like, a reality show? Eliminating the contestants, and whoever’s the last man standing – gets to be the winner?” He asked, perplexed.

“Right. I just haven’t come across anything I’d pause an episode of South Park for” She clarified.

“Now those are high standards. The winner will have to pass that test of mettle eh?” He asked, dramatically.

“Mock away, mock away. While I have to get philosophical, the rest of you know exactly what makes you tick” She replied.

“True. My answer did kick your answer’s ass.” He joked, and then changed his demeanor and leaned forward, “Just because your answer was convoluted doesn't mean it didn't intrigue me endlessly.” He continued on, “Some people get through their entire lives without learning what they’re passionate about, you know”

“And the rest of them?” She asked.

“They fake it.” He responded, looking directly at her. Silence ensued, not the awkward kind.

“You fake it too? I was starting to think you were really passionate about fraternizing with hot air hostesses.” She said, on a lighter note.

He laughed, “It’s the only thing I’d pause Game of Thrones for”

For the next 45 minutes, they shared stories, laughs and silences. When the interval bell rang, they joined their respective gangs inside.

As she walked out at the end of the play, she met his glance.  And in that moment she finally knew what gave her a high - Meeting an absolute stranger, unplagued with familiarity, confiding their innermost passions and thoughts.

They continued to look at each other from a distance – their gaze unwilling to bid goodbye. That’s when she decided – nothing would ruin this pureness, not even a second meeting.  She’d nurse the illusion of this perfect encounter.