“Order No. 103, your bucket please” shrieked the uniformed guy from behind the counter.
The entire dining area suddenly turned noiseless, and most of the heads turned. Even the guys in the middle of savouring flesh of the legs and breasts paused for a moment. Well, tearing flesh from chicken delicacies, just in case you were wondering something more divine.
While I walked triumphantly to collect my bucket of mouth-watering chicken legs, I couldn’t help but wonder- Why did so many people turn when they were not expecting any order fulfilment? I was reminded of a funny but apt observation of a wise friend “Shout –Hey you idiot, in the middle of the road, and you will see most of the heads turning”. There must be some deep psychology behind such reflex action. But, that study could wait or else the steaming chicken legs would turn cold. I hurried back with the tray to the table where my salivating little girl was waiting impatiently.
“Here it is” I announced while placing the tray on the table.
“You know a real bucket would cost less than this paper bucket” I opined.
“Bapi, don’t be a dumb, they aren’t charging for the bucket, but for its contents” the little one chittered.
“Well..err..true..you know , when I was your age we bought candies called ‘lemon chus toffee’, and chicken was prepared at home only” I tried to sound intelligent while shredding the soft chicken legs.
“And you had food in painted pottery utensils, you were born and raised in the Bronze Age Civilisation after all” she smirked in triumph.
“Not so ancient, my dear, but yes, of course we had bronze utensils at home, see eating from such old fashioned utensils was far more civilised that literally eating from paper laid on the tray” I countered her vehemently.
“Well Bapi, now don’t start your true-to-life history lessons, we need to catch the show as well” She interjected bringing the ‘then and now’ debate to an abrupt end.
While we settled in the plush seats in the chilled theatre I couldn’t help but say “You know, when I was your age we watched movies in open air and had to run for shelter when it rained. An enclosed cinema hall came much later”.
“And it must have been all B&W silent movies” the little one ambushed and shushed me as the trailers begun.
“Bapi, Chocolate with hot brownie” announced the little girl just when the big screen read “Interval”.
“You are going to tear my pocket, I think loosening the purse string would have been much better, as a child we were given a Cream Roll and it cost just one rupee” I expressed my displeasure at the unending urging.
“Bapi, did I tell you how much I enjoy listening to your childhood stories” the little one now charmed me with her antics.
On the way back home.
“Bapi, by the way when are you going to change the car” the little one remarked casually as if buying a new car was like buying a chocolate ice-cream.
“You know…”
“Yes, yes, now don’t tell you went in a bullock cart when you were my age..”
“Not really a bullock cart, but a Chetak..”
“If your dad took you in Chetak then what did Maharana Pratap do…”
“I mean Chetak scooter and not the horse named Chetak…”
“Now Bapi, don’t bore me with your lame jokes, concentrate on the road while I listen to the songs which you claim are ‘noise’”.
“See…”
“Bapi..road ahead.. Concentrate!!!”
“Err..you see..ok..ok..” I could only blabber.
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