I met this Punjabi babe the other day. A tall, well-built gal with blue blue eyes (read contact lenses).
This is how I came across her. I had reached a concert where Indian Idol Abhijeet Sawant would be performing. I was supposed to meet him
backstage for an interview. The only thing was I couldn't get anywhere inside. The PR girl I had talked to was nowhere in sight. Finally in desperation I caught hold of someone who did look a PR person and said, "Please get me backstage to Sonia." As it turned out I was asking Sonia for Sonia. My sigh of relief could not have been more pronounced. Jostling for space out there among muscle-flexing guys and auntyjis with their little kids, I was quite out of depth.
I tripped in to the air-conditioned backstage feeling like a queen after the sauna-like experience in the open air. I saw this huge white enclosure with cubicles lined on both sides with names on them. All the Sony actors and actresses were rehearsing. I happened to look in at one of those cubicles where this actor Sasha was doing a mock dance. Ok so I have eyes. Which fell on Sasha's cubicle. He banged the door in my face. "Do an about turn A," I muttered to myself and went into the cubicle marked out for Abhijeet and the Indian Idol finalists. Only to see Abhijeet rushing out to the stage. I looked at the other people in the room - rather the only other occupant - a girl with blue eyes sitting on the other side of the room. The Punjabi babe.
She smiled. I smiled.
Me: Are you the choreographer?
She: No, I am Sudhir's girfriend. (I drew a complete blank. Was I
supposed to know who he was?)
My musings were over in a minute. Entrez Sudhir. In a flashy purple shirt showing a lot of pale skin, a huge golden cross and a really bald head looking at me through mousy eyes. And almost immediately started doing little jerky steps. I averted my eyes bashfully for some time. I don't know why. He was an anonymous dancer for the evening.
She: So you are reading a novel. Which one (I held up my book. Vikram
Seth-A Suitable Boy. I really have to stop carrying it around. The last time it was mishandled by a French hottie). Now it's good to read to increase your knowledge and all that but I can't go beyond two-three pages of a novel.
Me: Oh so you are not a big reader
She: I read Archies
Here there was a lull in our conversation. After which Sudhir disappeared and our lady came and joined me on my sofa. She introduced herself as Anisha. I ventured forth to ask her about her profession.
She: I am in Class IX in Presentation.
My eyes popped out. Me thought she so looked a 26-yr-old.
She: Ya I know some people ask me if I have failed ever. But I am very good in studies.
Me: Ok, but why would you need to do presentations in Class IX?
She: It's a convent. Presentation Convent. Very well known.
Me: I am really sorry. I don't know much about Delhi schools.
Next my questions veered to what she wanted to do with her life. "I want to go into the glamour line," she said. Modelling, acting,... what? "My mother was a model who left the industry because of you-know-what, so I will not go into all that. I will be an international air hostess," she informed me. She also had me know that she can sing, dance and act well. To which I wondered aloud why she wasn't out there on stage. "Well, Sudhir already has a dancing partner - Jyoti." I looked at her and said, "You don't need a Sudhir to be performing!"
15 minutes with her and my head was buzzing. Anyways next I made a comment.
You are a Punjabi?
She: How do you know?
Me: It's pretty obvious. (Quickly) I mean you look like one. Take it as a compliment.
She (flicking her hair three times in a row): Ya I know Punjabis have
fair skins. But I like dusky skin (turning towards me). I like your
skin. You know it has an allure about it.
The conversation ended there. God stepped in, in the form of the Indian Idol finalists trooping in after a performance.