I'm sure this happened to most of
you guys, but I bet, not the way it happened to me. So, I guess it's worth
sharing.
Like most women I claim that I'm
not much of a shopaholic but I do a window shopping when I have nothing better
to do. I was having a stroll on a forlorn autumn dusk, tucking my hands in the
pockets of my Nike jacket, playing hide-N-Seek with the moon lit shadows on the
pavement . I love it when the breeze caresses my cheeks pushing away the stray
strands of hair that bothered me. I was so engrossed in my own world that I
hardly noticed the towering shopping mall until I was standing right under its
nose. Bunches of plastic roses of all colors, huggie-bears, Swarovski crystals,
porcelain dolls, coffee mugs showcased
in the mall begged me to come and have a peek at them. I walked in to the
store, all twinkle eyed and jewel smiled.
No sooner than I stepped in to
the store, I was face-to-face with this jeans clad sales person carrying a
truck load of stationary. He split in to an ear to ear grin like a eager
beaver, who waited all his life for this very moment in his life. I smiled a
courteous smile and walked my way in to the books section of the store. I was ogling
at a pile of Mills-N-Boons when I noticed that I'm being stalked. What
for? I questioned myself. The very
sales rep who welcomed me with a daisy fresh smile now tailed me cautiously as
if he were an undercover agent and I were a Kleptomaniac. Do I
look like a thief? or Is he the kind of person who takes his job way far too
seriously?
He looked every bit of those
showy kinds. He wore a glittering gold chain, Denim jeans with a white polo tee,
some sports shoe and most important of all, a cocky smile, which of course is
now laced with a little of vacillation and suspicion. What does he think of himself? James Bond in disguise? In fact
reading his face was like rapidly flipping through the pages of a ghatiya (boring) thriller. Kabhi nervous, kabhi suspicious, kabhi
hesitant toh kabhi cheesy.
I didn’t showcase the surging
annoyance on my face lest he might validate his faulty allegations. Instead I pulled out my hands from the pockets
of my jacket and brushed them through my hair with etiquette while my insides
howled 'How the hell am I supposed to choose the most romantic pick with a nosy
stalker snooping around?'
I decided to give him a loose. I ducked
behind the racks trying my best to hide myself from this unwanted escort, but
no luck. He followed me pug faced like the hutch-dog with a BGM (Back ground
music) "you and I, and the beautiful world…..green grass, blue sky and the
beautiful world".
I stared at him in a 'why-don’t-you-go-and-mind-your-own-business'
manner while I moved on to the next segment. I gawked wide mouth at the marble
Taj-mahal, the musical jewel box with a dancing couple, the kissing bears, and
laughing Buddha. He was in pursue with his obsessive 'where-ever-you-go-I-follow'
stand.
I sauntered in the women's wing intriguing
to lose the trail. He waited patiently as I spent my time checking out the bilng
jewelry. In fact he seemed to check me out top-to-toe perhaps for a red-flag-sign.
I'm infuriated and insulted by all of this haunting. I'm not stuffing my pockets doggie. Stop licking me with your looks. I
threw him a really dirty look. It worked just a itsy bit but nevertheless
stopped him from tailing me.
I grew tired of this hide-n-seek
and tried to ignore him. He seemed to be encouraged if not differed by my
change of attitude. I walked to the rack of soaps, he followed. To the pastes
and brushes, he followed. To the scorch
bites, mosquito repellents, toilet cleaners and sanitary pads. Yea! you guessed it right. He followed.
I braced my pride and decided to
buy something. I turned around on my heels and paced to the groceries. I scooped a Maggie packet , kurkure, Haldiram's
Khatta-meetha and a bunch of chocolates in my shopping basket. Hello! For your information, I'm not window
shopping either! I handed him the basket and asked him to get it billed.
His face fell as if I did the very unexpected thing. Ah! I get it! He must have placed a bet that I'm window shopping. You
see, he was wrong. I smiled graciously enjoying the confused look on his
face. How much did you lose Johnny? I walked suavely to the billing counter, my ego placated, my
eyes serene and my pride esteemed. It no longer mattered weather he trailed me or
not.
At the billing counter I found my
take-away's sitting cozily in a paper bag, my bill paid and stamped.
"who paid my bill?" I
thundered on the cashier. Unlike my escort he wore an orange tee and a cap
"your consort" he
replied casually.
"what? " I yelled.
"your male companion madam"
his colleague explained. He too wore a orange tee and a cap. "The person
who walked by your side" he added. I gawped for I-Don’t-know-how-much time
and all that I managed after that was an inaudible "SHIT".
Why the hell haven't i noticed that the jeans wala flirt never wore the orange
tee n the cap?
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