“Chinni” Episode-02

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  Chinni’s first urge was to walk up to Curly Hair, look deep into his intense eyes and introduce herself. “Hi! I’m the groom’s cousin; you must be the bride’s cousin, right?” Before he answered, she would add, “Frankly, I wouldn’t care even if you were my own cousin! You’re such a hottie, dude!” And then she would giggle wantonly, making sure that her dupatta carelessly fell and her assets mesmerized him. But good girls didn’t do that.

Chinni was a good girl. Truth be told, other than certain involuntary passing feelings, she had never actively thought of guys in such a manner until today. Her friends had almost always been boys, what with her football fixation and all. For sure she wasn’t a tomboy, but wasn’t too girlie either. Having had spent so much time with the opposite gender, she wasn’t in any awe of guys as such. And since her family was always fine with her having boys as friends, there was no reason why she would crave for male attention.

But there was something about wedding-related rituals that made some girls mushy inside. And Chinni was no different in that respect. This was going to be the first wedding in the family after she was born. Like everyone else in the house, she, too, had been so looking forward to Sauri Bhaiya’s wedding ever since he had completed his MBA. And two months ago, when she had noticed him blush red upon seeing Aanchal’s photograph for the first time, she had felt something inside. It was a new feeling, that someone special was out there for her, too.

So therefore, Curly Hair. He was still at the other end of the hall, with four others of a family that she had seen somewhere before. A female her age was busy narrating something and he seemed to be listening intently. The girl was very fair, had a face that reminded her of a Goddess Durga statue, and was slightly taller and more well-endowed than herself. But that didn’t bother Chinni. The babe’s expressions and body language were too nice and polished for guys to fall for. She was clearly the goalkeeper variety. The ones that didn’t score.

So that evening, for the first time in her life, Chinni set out to score a different kind of goal. It was almost six feet tall, had brown eyes, and oh no, it moved! Curly Hair was heading towards the food stalls.

Suddenly, the goal and its keeper had become one. To tackle that, Chinni had to turn herself into both the hitter and the ball. Fine.

Rule number one. Never just stand still when on offence. She moved, passed and dribbled herself through various groups of guests, a hello here and a duck there. Pausing briefly now and then, whenever there was a chance of a clear lane to get a glance passed from him.

She had expected him to go for the salad section first, but he went for the water counter at the far end, instead. The field was too crowded to get a clear shot. The attack had to be switched. With a long pass. She dashed to another area of the field- the ice cream corner, a much emptier space.

He emptied the whole glass in one go. Thirst was a good sign. But despite her strategic vantage point, he didn’t see her. She turned around, and with her back to him, tried to re-group and huddle her team of ideas to form a new attack on the goal. She thought that the corner kick from the left side where there were only oldies would be better than from right where she would get camouflaged by so many colourful youngsters.

A few minutes after she started mingling with the mostly sitting elderly guests, inquiring whether the food was okay or if they needed anything, she caught Curly Hair observing her from near the stage of artificial clouds.

It was Goal Number One.

But she didn’t reward him more than a blank, passing glance. She had got a lead, and so she could afford to keep possession of the ball.

It wasn’t as if that took less effort than the chase, but Chinni wanted to try her hand at being a tease. Even while playing the efficient little hostess to a couple of grannies, arranging for an extra chair and some hot beverages, she calculated her angles to ensure that he could watch her.

Soon, her generosity was taken for granted. One of the ladies asked her to go fetch her daughter-in-law from somewhere.

Chinni decided that she’d teased enough. She should pick up the ball and throw it back in, to set up the next play. It would be full-on eye contact now, as men were known to be visual creatures. But by the time she assigned the errand to a little boy and turned, Curly Hair wasn’t there!

Her eyes quickly scanned the entire area the way she would scan the field, the scoreboard and the stands minutes before the final whistle. But the goal post was nowhere.

She rushed towards the main gate of the Circuit House. There he was, busy talking on his mobile, and heading hurriedly towards the parking lot.

She wanted to get out first and walk ahead of him a bit, to provide him with an opportunity to appreciate the heart-and-arrow tattoo. And while at it, her shapely behind.

But she stopped in her tracks upon seeing Papa coming. To Curly Hair.

Jasraj Devgarhia met the young man, shook hands with him and after some inaudible small talk, waved at him as he drove off in some car that she was too distracted to register.

It was final whistle. Despite the one goal she had scored, she had lost.

***

An hour later, Chinni put her brightest smile on as she posed for the official family photos with the newly-engaged twosome.

She was a good loser. At least she had oh-so-casually elicited some information from Papa. Curly Hair’s name was Naman Rathor. He was the son of their Jaipur distributor, and had driven down to Royalpur just so as to represent his parents who were, for some reason, unable to attend the engagement ceremony. It was obvious that she would soon meet him at the wedding ceremony in Jaipur.

So she forgot all about the minor setback, and chatted up the bride. It was easy because though there were different extended families that sought to get clicked with the couple, Chinni was a permanent fixture, and upon Aanchal’s insistence, stood next to her in all the snaps. A few exchanges between clicks and she could tell that Aanchal was a very sweet person. Chinni was happy for Sauri Bhaiya, because his future wife clearly adored him. But she wondered if the young lady actually lived in the real world. She didn’t like sports because she thought they’re a waste of time. As opposed to what? Fashion Designing?

It seemed that Aanchal sensed her thoughts. Because after tens of snaps, she now sweetly asked Chinni to step aside so that her dear cousin Lavanya could stand beside her.

Lavanya turned out to be none other than the goalkeeper girl with the Durga face. She performed an oh-so-perfect grin and hug routine with Aanchal before posing for the photo.

Aanchal nudged Lavanya teasingly and whispered, “Where’s your boyfriend?”

Lavanya blushed and whispered back, “Naman had to leave early.”

Chinni’s eyes popped out just as the camera clicked.

***

Chinni couldn’t sleep at all that night. But by five thirty am, she had made up her mind. No more sulking. No more feeling sorry for herself.

It was still dark. But she decided to go for a jog.

She put her earplugs in, put her MP3 player on, and dashed down the wide footpath of Raunak Lane. She hoped that the rough, angry sounds of heavy metal would scrape the filth that she had actively collected in her mind last evening, and cleanse her soul.

Despite the high volume, she felt a message buzz of her mobile in her pouch. She ignored it once, but a few more followed. So she stopped at the next turn, and fished it out to check.

An unknown number had sent her a few pics. Pics of hers.

God! She didn’t know she looked so ravishing. Though they were all close ups, it was evidently from the last evening.

Before she could wonder who the sender was, it buzzed again. It was a message this time. From the same number.

“Have a nice day! – Naman Rathor”

The first light of a new day fell on Chinni’s face.

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