Springing up from the couch, I hurried to the shower. I mean, who wants to show up on a first date all sweaty, right? After a quick wash, I stepped out in a towel, facing the age-old dilemma of what to wear for the match.
Staring at my wardrobe, confusion set in. "A coat suit is definitely overdressing, and a formal shirt? That's a bit too interview-ish," I mumbled to myself.
Shaking my head with an air of nonchalance, I gave a smug look to my reflection in the full-length mirror attached to the wardrobe. "Forget that, I'll rock a hoodie and toss in a blue jean. Why? Because I slay in anything."
Once I settled on the hoodie and blue jeans combo, I moved on to the next steps in my preparation ritual. With a flourish, I spritzed on my favorite cologne, the aroma lingering in the air as I prepared to make a lasting impression.
I reached for a packet of mints, sliding it into my pocket with a sly smile. A hint of freshness never hurt anyone, right?
As I got ready to leave, I grabbed my wallet and phone, ensuring I had everything I needed for the evening ahead. But before stepping out, I couldn't forget my loyal companions, Sweater and Jumper.
Making my way to the kitchen, I prepared a quick meal for them, their tails wagging in anticipation. After all, even in the rush of a date, you can't neglect the ones who've been there for you through thick and thin.
With a final check to ensure I was date-ready, I locked the door behind me, ready to dive into the exciting unknown of the evening.
Basking in the radiant glow of a streetlight, I summoned a cab like a wizard conjuring an expensive magic carpet. Seriously, these cab prices are on a mission to make my wallet cry – next thing you know, they'll demand my home's property papers too. Talk about high-rolling chauffeurs!
In a matter of minutes, the cab rolled up, and I hopped in, the door closing with a satisfying thud. The car glided away from the alley, and I sank into the seat, shutting my eyes to the rhythmic tunes playing.
"Son, do you remember me?" the driver's voice cut through the music.
I opened my eyes, peering at him, even though I could only see his back from my spot in the back seat. I shook my head in response.
He chuckled softly, "I was your driver on the day you had that office showdown. Ring a bell?"
Recognition dawned on me as I recalled the friendly face that had tried to uplift my spirits on a particularly rough day.
"Ah, right. I remember now," I acknowledged.
He nodded, his gaze friendly. "So, how's life treating you now?"
"It's going well, sir," I replied respectfully.
"Good to know," he responded before casually asking, "Going to watch the IPL today?"
"Yeah," I answered briefly.
"The days of youth," he mused, a hint of nostalgia in his tone.
Once again, a comfortable silence filled the car. I occupied myself with my phone, delving into articles that promised to reveal the secrets of impressing and winning over a woman in just three hours. Sounds intriguing, doesn't it?
The article was nice, but let's be real – it also seemed like a bit of a stretch. I mean, I might be experiencing the thrill of getting asked out for the first time, but even this forever single guy knows you can't pull off a love miracle in just three hours. It's not like you make eye contact, exchange a few words, and suddenly, they're head over heels. Is that even a thing? Sounds more like a rom-com fantasy than real-life magic.
"Hey, uncle, mind if I throw a question your way?" I asked, a bit hesitantly.
"Sure thing," he replied.
"How do you know if someone genuinely likes you, or if you genuinely like someone?"
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Well, that's a sudden shift. Let me share some wisdom. In my 30 years of marriage, I've learned that someone who loves you sees you for who you are, not what others perceive you to be."
I nodded in understanding, urging him to continue.
"They never lie to you, unless it's a little white lie meant to bring joy, like pretending your cooking is fantastic to see your eyes light up. They prioritize your comfort, always putting you first, and are ready to follow you anywhere, even to hell."
"And what if I like someone? How do I know?" I inquired further.
"Hmm, let me think," he pondered. "When you like someone, you just know they're the one. It's a feeling no one can explain. Picture this: after a long and exhausting day, when you lie down, close your eyes, and imagine your life in 10 years, the first person who pops into your mind is the one you can build a family with."
"Ah, uncle, you're quite the romantic, huh?" I teased with a laugh.
He replied softly, "Absolutely. Age might take away your youth, but love? It's securely tucked in your heart, and it stays just as vibrant as the first day you fell in love with your partner."
"Your wife must be so fortunate to have someone like you," I commented with a genuine smile.
He responded with warmth and gratitude, "It's actually the other way around, kid. I am blessed to have someone like her in my life. To her, I am not Baldev the lowly cab driver; I am just Baldev."
"I see," I responded, my eyes reflecting a hint of emotion. Love, I pondered, was something inherently beautiful and fragile, yet our generation often failed to cherish its true essence.
Love, I believed, should connect souls, not just bodies. In today's world, it felt like the physical aspect overshadowed the soulful connection. People indulged in passionate encounters, only to part ways as if nothing meaningful had transpired between them.
"That's your stop, son," interjected Baldev.
Glancing out of the window, I realized we had indeed arrived at the Wankhede Stadium amidst our conversation. Stepping out of the cab, I paid him and expressed my gratitude for his thoughtful advice before heading towards the entry gates.
I stood by the gates and dialed Natasha's number to inquire about her location. After the third ring, her soft voice reached my ears, "Hey, I've reached the place."
"So have I" I replied softly.
"Where are you? I'm standing by the Mumbai Indians Banner," she said, her breath audible through the line.
I scanned the surroundings, searching for the banner, and quickly spotted it. I hurried in her direction, and there she was, waving her hands at me. I walked towards her.
"You look stunning" I complimented, admiring her outfit. She wore a chiffon floral shirt paired with a mid-length skirt, her auburn hair tied in a ponytail. A soft pink shade adorned her lips, which stretched into a smile as she looked at me.
"Well, you look better than me," she shrugged playfully.
I blushed slightly at her compliment and mumbled a small thanks.
"Shall we go inside?" she inquired, raising a brow.
"Ah, yes," I nodded, and we headed into the stadium after a few minutes of checks and frisks.
As we navigated through the crowd after the security checks, I returned with a tub of popcorn and drinks, having purchased them in the meantime to make things easier for her.
"Ah, you got snacks. You really didn't have to," she remarked with a warm smile.
"Nonsense. You got the tickets, so this is the least I can do," I replied.
She nodded appreciatively before suggesting, "How about we find our seats before the game kicks off?"
"Sounds good to me," I said, following her through the bustling crowd until we settled into our seats.
The cricket pitch looked surprisingly clear and vibrant from our vantage point. Despite my previous notion that cricket matches might be better on television, the live experience, especially with a certain someone by your side, proved to be quite enjoyable.
"Hey, do you know which teams are playing today?" I asked Natasha, noticing her absorbed in her phone.
She looked up, narrowing her eyes, "Are you seriously telling me you don't know the teams playing today, and you've come to watch the match?"
I shrugged, "I haven't been religiously following this IPL, but I agreed to come because you invited me."
A subtle blush colored her cheeks as she responded, "You certainly have a way with words."
"I try," I replied with a nonchalant smile.
"Anyways, it's the semi-final showdown between the Kolkata Knight Riders and the Royal Challengers Bangalore."
My eyes widened, "Already? How time flies in this IPL frenzy."
"The length is perfect; you just didn't follow it much," she remarked with a knowing smile. "So, which side are you leaning towards?"
"What about you?" I quickly retorted.
"I absolutely love Kolkata," she replied with a genuine enthusiasm that lit up her eyes.
"I'm okay with either," I said, although it was a little white lie. I didn't want to risk her opinion of me by supporting the team opposite to her favorite.
"Ah, got it," she responded, a hint of understanding in her eyes. Then, casting a quick, nervous glance around, she whispered, "Mind if I ask you something?"
"Sure, go ahead."
"Do you happen to know Sana?" she inquired, her gaze focused on mine.
I tilted my head, perplexed. "Sana? The movie star?"
"Yeah."
"Well, besides knowing she's a famous celebrity, I'm just a spot boy. What would someone like me know about someone of her stature?"
She nodded thoughtfully, saying, "Ah, I see. I spotted you, her, and Director Das together on set today, so I assumed there was a personal connection."
I clarified, "Not really. We just happened to cross paths at a cafe. She overheard me asking about job opportunities, and she kindly offered me one. That's the extent of it." Of course, my explanation was a fabricated cover story, but revealing my actual connection with Sana was out of the question.
"Well, you know," she continued, "I've always admired Sana as an actress. I've dreamt of following in her footsteps, but certain challenges led me to settle for a crew member position instead."
"Oh," I replied with a sympathetic nod.
"Yeah, it's tough when someone you admire is right in front of you, but the distance between you feels more like kilometers than inches," she lamented with a sigh.
"I haven't gone through something like that, but I can imagine how painful it must be," I said, conveying genuine understanding.
"Exactly," she agreed.
"But you don't need to emulate her completely. You can carve your own path. Why settle for being a Sana 2.0 when you have the potential to be a unique Natasha? People may not be looking for another Sana; they might be longing for someone like you."
"No, you don't understand. I have to catch up to her. It's my goal, and I can't just abandon it abruptly; that would feel like failure," she said with a touch of agitation.
I reassured her, "Hey, take it easy. It was just a suggestion. If you're determined to follow in her footsteps, then give it your all. I may not know the ins and outs of becoming an actor, but you do. Follow the steps, stay dedicated, and you'll find success someday."
"Sorry for snapping," she mumbled with a hint of shame.
"No worries," I reassured her with a comforting smile.
"Look, it's starting," she said with a smile, gesturing towards the field.
I shifted my gaze to the pitch. The openers were stepping out of the pavilion. Apparently, RCB had won the toss and chose to field. After the countdown, the match commenced.
Faint commentary accompanied the unfolding events.
"So, Irfan, who do you think will come out on top today?"
"Well, both teams have shown potential, but I won't deny that Bangalore has performed exceptionally well this year. So, my bet for victory would be on them."
"Excellent response, but we can't overlook the unpredictable nature of cricket. Anything can happen in a match."
"Oh, absolutely, Gaurav bhai."
"Hm, saying Bangalore looks better this year is a stretch." Natasha muttered, "If it weren't for Virat and that new player, this team wouldn't even have qualified."
"Speaking of the new player, who's this sensation I keep hearing about?" I asked with curiosity.
She rolled her eyes, "Well, there's a new batsman in the national team this year. Kabir. He's hailed as a prodigy because he scored a century on his debut in an international match against Australia, and his career has only flourished since then."
"Ah, that's impressive. No wonder RCB splurged 9 crores on him the first time he entered the IPL." I mused.
Some folks struggle to catch a glimpse of 9 crores even after a decade of hard work, and then there's someone pocketing that sum in just one year. Life can be quite partial, huh?
Full toss, and oh, that's a massive six from Nitish Rana's bat.
The ball soared into the stands on the off side, a brilliant hit indeed.
"Did you see that?" Natasha beamed at me.
I nodded with a smile, "It was pretty cool."
Oh no, bowled. Rana out for 6 off 2.
"Ah, darn," muttered Natasha, nervously nibbling on her nails in suspense.
I patted her shoulder reassuringly, "Hey, it's just a game."
She visibly relaxed and leaned back in her seat, her gaze fixed on me.
I blushed, sensing her attentive eyes on me. "What's on your mind?" I asked.
"You're such a husband material, you know," she declared.
"So marry me," I playfully mumbled, attempting to be flirty.
She burst into laughter before responding, "Smooth."
"I aim to please," I quipped with a smirk.
"We can save the marriage talk for later, but can we please focus on the match?" she suggested.
I nodded immediately, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. Shifting my attention back to the game, I noticed that the powerplay was over, and Kolkata had lost three wickets.
After an hour or so into the match, Kolkata Knight Riders had concluded their innings, setting a decent target of 182 runs for Royal Challengers Bangalore to chase.
"Hey, I'm going to the washroom," Natasha announced.
I nodded in acknowledgment.
She rose from her seat and walked away.
Taking advantage of the break, I pulled out my phone, turning it on to enjoy a game and pass the time while she was away. Today had been enjoyable. Although we didn't get to talk much due to our focus on the match, the silence between us felt comfortable.
I was enjoying the game until I received a call. It was from my mother. I turned up the receiving button before putting the phone against my ear.
"Hey, Ma," I greeted in a low tone.
"Been two whole days since you last called me, huh?" she said, a touch of seriousness in her voice.
"Yeah, sorry about that. I've been a bit swamped. Oh, and guess what? Breaking news—I'm on a date right now."
Her laughter echoed through the phone. "Really? You're not pulling my leg?"
"Nope, not this time. Found myself a girl."
"Is she nice?" she inquired.
"Yeah, she's pretty cool."
"So, should I start expecting grandbabies soon?" she teased.
I blushed, grateful she couldn't see me. "Ma, it's just day one. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
"Alright, alright. Are you at least eating well?"
"Yes, Ma, I promise. Now, don't worry. I'll have fun on my date. No breaking hearts or disrespecting involved," I assured her.
"Good to know. Enjoy yourself," she said before hanging up.
Returning my attention to the game, I noticed that the second innings had kicked off, yet Natasha hadn't returned. Preferring to wait, I figured there might be a line at the restroom.
The commentators picked up the mic again.
"Let's dive into the second innings. The openers have graced the ground after leaving the pavilion. Faf du Plessis takes the strike, with the budding star, Kabir Rai, holding the non-striker's position."
"Irfan, your thoughts on the young sensation?"
"Well, Gaurav, we seasoned players are truly at a loss for words to describe his performance this year, marking his debut in international matches. With 2 centuries and 5 half-centuries in just three series, he's achieved quite a commendable feat."
"And let's not overlook that he's currently the third contender for the orange cap in the IPL, following Rohit and Warner. Here's hoping he continues his stellar performance in this match."
"Absolutely."
I focused my gaze on the ground, attempting to spot the acclaimed sensation, but from this distance, discerning any specific features proved challenging. All I could gather was that he was tall, approximately 5'11", and in good shape.
"Features worth dying for, eh?" I quietly mused to myself.
A few minutes later, Natasha returned and settled back into her seat.
"Before you inquire, there were a lot of people there," she explained.
I chuckled, "I figured. I wasn't going to ask."
"Oh," she responded, diverting her attention back to the match.
Thirty minutes later, the powerplay concluded with an impressive score of 55-0. Faf was standing strong at 35 off 29, while Kabir had swiftly reached 20 off just 7 balls. As the 7th over began, Kabir took the strike.
Suddenly, Natasha's hands landed on me. Turning to face her, I saw her pointing excitedly at the camera focused on us. Like a deer caught in headlights, I blinked at the camera as the cameraman showcased us on the big screen before moving away.
The commentators exchanged thoughts on the peculiar incident, "A close call for Kabir there. The ball narrowly missed the stumps."
"Gaurav, did you notice? It looked like Kabir just froze. What could be the reason?"
"I'm not sure, but it was as if his body had come to a sudden halt."
"Let's hope everything's fine. Faf is having a chat with him, maybe trying to understand what happened."
"They're back in their positions now. Hopefully, it was just a momentary glitch."
The strange incident continued to puzzle not just me but also the commentators, adding an element of suspense to the ongoing match.
As I tried to comprehend the unexpected attention, Irfan Pathan's voice broke through the stadium chatter, adding a humorous touch to the situation.
"Well, well, looks like this year's IPL isn't just about making the ladies famous. Men are getting their shot at becoming national crushes too."
"Haha, true that, Irfan. Our cameraman seems to have found a contender."
"Let's hope he wakes up tomorrow to see his name trending on Twitter."
"A solid one, Irfan."
The commentary turned the spotlight on me, creating a surreal and slightly awkward moment amidst the cricket excitement.