Half Blown Kiss... (Part 1)

The third semester ended and every nit(c)ian  was eager to go back to his kingdom. After the shortest and busiest sem, the four weeks of vacation was a blessing in disguise, a break from the usual routine. November was dying and the winters had just started showing its presence in northern India.

Mangla Express passing through the Western Ghats, breaking the silence of the tunnels, going round at different curves provided the rare sight of natural beauty. The Ghats, streams, flora all allured me to come to the door of one of the coaches and have a finer look. Hardly had I enjoyed the wind passing by my face that something made me turn back. The outside beauty suddenly zeroed to nothingness.

A flawless surreal body, a ten on ten figure, the most gorgeous girl I had ever seen in real appeared before me. Covered in a funky tee and a sort of Punjabi pyjama, she presented a serene scene. A little discomfort visible on her face added to her beauty. My eyes, without a single click, took thousands of her images in next few seconds, while my mind was busy processing them all. All I could do at that time was to stare her and sigh. I could have died due to rupturing of my blood cells if she would have stayed there for long. Sooner, she disappeared into the crowd making everything same as before, except for one thing. My heartbeat was still matching the pace of the train.

Regaining some consciousness I tried searching her but failed. Feeling disheartened I forced myself back to the allotted berth. Call it destiny, fate, or my good luck, I found her in my compartment, sitting next to my berth!

I looked at her, she looked at me and silence was exchanged. You need no vodka to get drunk and have a hangover. A girl with vital assets is sure to provide you that. Surely, I was under some hypnotism now.

To break the lull the TTE (ticket examiner) came. "Your name?" he enquired. "Priyanka", she responded. I heard her voice for the first time. “Priyanka Chopra", he smiled. "Priyanka Singh", she replied pronouncing the surname with such an attitude that the TT immediately realized that he had cracked a bad joke. Sensing his situation I chuckled. He took no time in upgrading and confirming her ticket and left.

"So, where are you going Priyanka?" I couldn't resist asking. "Bhopal", she responded sipping some fluid from her bottle. So she wasn't going to give me company till Nizhamuddin, I felt bad.

"What were you doing there?” she directed the next question. Oh God she had noticed me staring.

"Nothing much, was just breathing in some fresh air", I mumbled. I don't know how I was able to answer that question. Her presence was driving me crazy. The aroma oozing was giving me a hangover.

"So, what do you do?" I asked in an attempt to continue the conversation. "A degree in advertising," she said adding "from Nutan College in Mumbai". A Mumbaikar, I thought. Seriously, the confidence the metro girls/boys have got is amazing.

"What is your job actually?" I continued asking, "I mean what an individual is supposed to do in it?" I couldn’t frame a better question. Nevertheless she replied, "We act as directors”. Seeing me confused she elaborated, “Our producer gives us a theme,” she explained, "And we are asked to come up with at least five ideas on that. The best idea is conceived; story is written and finally enacted in front of the camera".

My ears kept on collecting all the vibrations of her lips. "You know, how catchy an ad can be? It is able to make you empty your pockets on the stuff that you sometimes don't even think of buying", she laughed and continued, "That's the power of an ad". I wasn't sure of the power of an advertisement, but the only power I could feel that moment was hers. "Hmm... creative field." I said. Then she talked about the expertise of Prahlad Kakkar in ad industry, hospitality of Chopras towards Punjabis. And soon the entire Bollywood came into the picture. A detailed discussion followed the topic. Meanwhile my eyes were busy capturing the best shot.

“Okay tell me one thing, why don’t you try modeling or acting rather than direction?” I asked. She raised her brows and gave me a look. I noticed the beauty of printed tiles on the floor this time.