It is just past midnight and I am stuck at work eagerly eyeing every source of time hoping it would tell me that it was time to go home, but it still said I had a good three hours before I could pack up for the day.
Working in customer support for western countries tends to have most people in Bangalore doing night shifts and like every other jock trying to pay his bills and rent, I had joined the bandwagon back when the BPO culture had set in to make quick bucks. Sadly, it became an addiction that I couldn't easily get out of.
Over the years, though, I have found that the best way to plod along without going senile is to develop a habit or an interest. With all the swanky dating apps and what not, its tough not to miss hitting the broadside of the barn with a shotgun, and yet that is how fate would have it for me.
Bored out of my wits, I decide to go old-school and find an ad-posting site like the erstwhile Craigslist and post a simple, dumb as a spade hookup ad. Reviewing it once again after posting the ad and ruing how lame it looks now, I swipe my screen over to another app and get immersed in it, while going thru the motions with a query at work.
Two hours later, I decide to see how my ad had performed and am actually stunned that I have a response. It just says, "26 F Domlur. Ur Num?" This was posted 10 mins earlier and I quickly reply to this with my number. Five minutes later my phone rings. An unknown number.
I answer, "Hello?"
In a very north-eastern Indian accent, "Hey. You gave me your number sometime back"
"Yeah. Am sure you have no doubts about the ad. When do you want to meet?"
"Now?"
I gulped, checked my watch and thanked fate for finally telling me I could leave work in ten minutes. "I'll leave work in fifteen minutes. Where is your place?"
She gave me her address, landmarks and asked me how I'd be coming. Told her, by car.
"Let's go for a drive then." She said suddenly. "I'll meet you at the gate. I'll be in a frock."
After hanging up, I went to the men's room for a quick dash before almost running down to my car. I get in, key in the ignition, program the navigation and in under 10 minutes am at the gate of the apartment. A quick call to let you know I've reached and a couple minutes later, I see the gate opening and a lady wearing a dull colored frock step out.
With distinct North-Eastern Indian features to the face and thick, jet black hair styled like a pixie, and flawless skin, she comes around, gets into the passenger seat and offer me her hand to shake. I look at her, frozen for a second before taking it, shaking it twice and kissing it before letting go. She smiles, shy and surprised.
I pull out of the lane, drive out of the colony and ask her how far and how long? She just says, drive for an hour and then turn around. I head to the expressway leading to the airport to give us some privacy and free roads and we make conversation.