Love In Two Cities [COMPLETED]

1-Pilot

Hello diary,

In Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen said 'It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife'.

I think it made sense in the 18th century. What doesn't is that in the 21st century, everyone around me thinks a single girl must be in need of a boyfriend. It's not true. It's bloody not. I don't need a boyfriend. Coz I'm all good now. The next one month is going to be a new beginning.

No, not a beginning. Why did I just write that? It's going to be a fresh change. A change from the usual. So, leave the stupid thoughts back here at home. No wishing for a boy or any such nonsensical stuff.

Yes!

Fat lot of luck in that strange city anyway. Ha ha ha.

PS: The fundamental problem with me, I guess, is that I read wayyyy too many romantic novels. Yes, that's the source of my misery. But, it is like a drug. I'm addicted.

But what am I doing with my life anyway? I don't have a job that I like. Correction. I don't have a proper job at all. Why is everyone in my family highly qualified? Makes life so difficult for me.

***

Pooja slams her small but thick diary shut and exhales loudly. Capping the pen, she stuffs the diary into her unzipped handbag lying on her bed. Then, she gets out of her room.

The enormous Gulmohar trees, filled with bright, blood-red flowers, filter the rising orange sun rays on a clear summer morning in the residential area of Jayanagar 9th Block. The red-whiskered Bulbuls and Mynahs chirp madly; the brown street canine with an electrified tail flirts with a white Shitzu being walked by its lanky owner. And then, there is a cream-coloured bungalow along the 39th crossroad.

The bungalow stands proud. And Pooja clearly knows if there is anything that her father agonizes about, it is their house plot number. For him, a 50' X 80' plot in the heart of south Bangalore was too much to give up fifteen years ago, just for the damned site number. He still occasionally barks at the invisible site broker, bickering that he tricked him into it. And it gives Pooja some kind of merriment to read the large glossy golden nameplate screwed onto the compound wall:

Satyameva Jayate

#420

Shekar Hiremath (IPS)

Police Commissioner

The three feet tall compound wall around the house is topped with three rows of electric fencing wire (Although Pooja would have preferred it to be topped with concrete tubs to hold red, pink, and yellow bougainvillea), threatens to burn anyone to dares to climb over it to dust. The black labrador, Power, roaming around on the lawn, barks occasionally. Everyone in the house is thoroughly awake today at six am, which is quite unusual.

But, today is a happening day.

Pooja is now being ushered down the stairs, by maid Devamma, saying Mrs. Jaya has been calling out to her since forever.

'Fast, fast, bega, bega!(fast)' Pooja can hear her mother's voice from the kitchen. 'We have to leave for the airport in three hours. Three hours! Pooja is travelling on a flight alone for the first time'

Pooja enters the living room where Mrs. Jaya catches her by her shoulders and shakes her. 'Pooja! Are you done with your packing?'

'Haan, Maa' she says calmly. 'It is done. Relax'

'Aiyyo! How can I relax?' she announces loudly, walking back to the kitchen. 'You are going in flight. Alone for the first time! Devamma! Are all the boxes ready? Chutney pudi, upinnakayi (pickles)? Happalas (papads)? Sweets?'