The boy sat on his bike and looked at his reflection in the mirror.
He liked what he saw. A day’s stubble sat well on his face. He did a spot check of his breath.
‘Hmm, could have been better’ he thought. But he didn’t worry about it much. He doubted that he would get lucky this early in their relationship.
It was only their third date after both of them had professed that they were attracted to each other.
‘Confidence! Baby! Confidence!’ That’s the key to success he told himself.
But where was she? He’d already been waiting for half an hour below her building. Well not exactly below but well out of view from her balcony and dear daddy’s eyes.
Grimacing, he took out his cellphone and dialled her number. The not reachable message annoyed him further and he silently abused all telecom operators to eternal damnation.
He got off his bike and casually strolled towards her flat.
Oh Shit! Her daddy dearest was in the balcony looking out. He sprung back into the shadows.
She came out of her apartment complex. But she wasn’t dressed to go out. And the look on her face was far from relaxed. Tension was writ all over it.
She came towards him and said those 5 words he was not yet ready to hear – “Papa wants to meet you”.
Wordlessly he followed her and all along the way all too fully aware of the intense glare he was being subjected to from two storeys above.
He entered into her apartment feeling like a lamb being led into a slaughterhouse. It was the first time he had visited her home. In any other circumstance he would have noticed the shoe rack placed at the entrance and the potted plant placed just to its right.
But this wasn’t a normal circumstance and he managed to trip over the shoerack and the vase clattered to the ground. Mud spilled out and the plants privates were exposed for the world to see.
He started apologizing profusely and bent over to straighten the pot when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.
‘Leave it! The maid will clean it up!’
Colonel Randhir Singh Shekhawat’s booming voice had frightened the hardy Pakistani soldiers into giving up their arms at Tsang Po pass near Kargil.
The boy gave up on the vase much more easily.
They were sitting face to face. The Colonel didn’t say anything. He just kept on staring at the boy.
The boy not knowing what to say decided to concentrate on the Colonel’s fine moustache instead. And what a fine moustache it was! The Shekhawats since ancient ancestry were known for the magnificent moustaches. It was their one and only true love. They used to lavish more attention on it than on their wives. It was said that the Shekhawat women would be so jealous of the moustaches of their men that they would fantasize in their dreams about cutting those hairy monsters off but could never gather the courage to do so when they woke up.
Colonel Randhir Singh Shekhawat’s moustache had never flinched once – not even in the midst of the most difficult phase of the Kargil battle. But it was flinching now. Or so the boy imagined.
Finally the Colonel spoke. ‘So I hear you like my daughter? Is that so?’
The double question sounded so ominous that the boy almost said no. But he soon came to his senses and stuttered out a yes.
Another 10 second silence followed by a loud Hmmphh.
‘And what are your intentions?’
‘My intentions sir? They are to uh, you know to er, I’m sorry sir I didn’t undertand the question’
‘Your intentions Goddamit! Are you playing around or are you serious about my daughter?’
‘Ssserious sir! Very serious!’
The Colonel got up, went to the fireplace and brought the fire poker – a fine strong steel rod.
‘Young man! I am not someone to be trifled with. If I ever find out that you have hurt my daughter in any way. This is what will happen!’
And in one easy stroke the colonel bent the poker into a horseshoe pattern.
The boy almost peed in his pants.
‘Do you understand?’
All the boy could manage was a nod.
And all of a sudden the booming voice which manhandled the Pakistani sepoys was 10 tones friendlier.
‘So what are you waiting for young man? Go show my daughter a good time. Bring her back by eight!’
And in the earlier hostile tone an addendum ‘And don’t be late!’
As he exited her house in relief his inner voice was laughing at him. ‘Confidence! Baby! Confidence!’
