1985. The City of dreams. Red double decker buses, khali-peeli taxis, radios, Doordarshan, video cassettes and rotary dial phones.
DCP Amarnath arrives in Bombay with a mission, straight and clear: To tackle the notorious Crime Syndicates.
As the c...
'Yep. My cousin says it's the ultimate cocktail in Florida; vodka, peach, orange and cranberry juice,' Gauri explains to the gang.
The wedding ceremony is over and so is the wedding toast. The snack buffet had been laid out in the dining hall. Now, all are up for a mandatory round of cocktails.
As Gauri and the other girls lounge at the drinks station, chattering noisily, around three to four of the groom's unmarried batchmates enter the scene. Conversations get flowing.
Within a few minutes, Gauri makes an observation which she registers with mild confusion and irritation. None of them are interested in talking to her.
But they have a reason to do so. The event of Amarnath speaking to Gauri for such a long time (ten minutes!) is deemed to be on the lines of a rare celestial event. The chances of Amarnath talking to any other girl for more than ten minutes are lesser than that of spotting Haley's comet.
Hence, they have fixed upon the pair. And Amarnath is always so grim that no girl would even bother to strike up a casual conversation. Let alone holding his hand! So, she has already been labelled as 'Amarnath's Girl' amongst them. They just exchange formal greetings with her and unapologetically converse with the other girls. Her mother's words reverberate in Gauri's ears.
Yes, you know how to talk boys into never talking to you again.
Gauri frowns, picks up her second glass of Pina Colada and moves away to the calmer side of the counter where Amarnath and Murali are stationed.
●●●
'There's nothing like that' Amarnath says.
'I know' Murali agrees. 'She's not your type'
They are drinking scotch cocktails at the opposite end of the drinks station. The bridesmaids and the groomsmen had gone separate ways after walking down the aisle, and sat on opposite sides of the church for the rest of the ceremony, occupying the first row of seats. After the wedding rituals, there was raising a toast.
Though Amarnath did not speak, he listened to Gauri's toast, impressed and even borderline intimidated by her proficiency in English. She had spoken about her friendship with Fiona, how they grew up over the years, and the numerous combined studies-sessions-turned-into-movie-nights. Also, how they secretly snuck up on their mom's makeup kits to try out the different shades of lipstick in middle school and mourned that Indian schools never conducted high school promenade dances like the ones in America.
Amarnath remembered his school days too; only that he, along with his friends would sneak into the guava fields to steal some ripe fruits in middle school and study in the dim light of the kerosene lamp until midnight in high school, wondering when their village would be blessed with proper electricity like big cities.
Overall, he has concluded her to be a rich, modern girl who went to hi-fi schools, spoke hi-fi English, and led a hi-fi life. It is better to stay away from girls in general, but it is mandatory to stay an extra mile away from such girls in particular.
But he gets offended when Murali says the same thing. 'What do you mean "not my type"?'
'Your type is soft-spoken, traditional and innocent. This girl is actually my typ- she's coming, she's coming ... ' Murali sits up straight on the barstool.
'Huh?'
He looks beyond Amarnath's shoulder. 'I think she's coming here'
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