Neha Sharma - Total Siyapaa

“So are we recording this thing right here?” he asked. He wanted to hear her voice again; he wanted to provoke a reaction out of her again. He wasn’t sure why though. It just sounded like fun.

“Yeah, you know I figured we should do this in a public space,” she offered, before adding a silent, almost inaudible, “Somewhere with lots of witnesses.”

He would have doubted ever hearing it. He would have chalked it down to his imagination, but the tall cameraman had sniggered right on cue, before turning it into an ill-disguised cough.

“Like I was saying, shooting here allows us to capture the vibrancy of the location; it showcases the spirit of the festival. We also thought it suited your kind of music.”

“Ah, so you’ve heard my music,” he asked with a raised eyebrow. It made him seem even more boyish. Is this how he played the field, she wondered, with a wink here and a cute smile there?

Despite her annoyance, she couldn’t help but notice that he was a really nice-looking guy. Aman was dressed in a simple black T-shirt, black jeans, and a pair of bright blue All Stars. It suited him. He had silky black hair that fell into his eyes ever so often. He also looked fit – not overly built but looking like he could keep up. If she’d come across him in different circumstances, Aasha might have found him interesting.

“Of course I’ve heard your music,” she replied. “It’s part of the job.”

That was only a half-truth. She had heard his music because it was her job, but she had enjoyed it too. There was no doubt this here was a very talented man, and she was looking forward to hearing more of his music, but he didn’t need to know that.

Aman for his part let the subtle barb soak in. It was really well done and he couldn’t help admire the craftsmanship of it.

Lady Reporter 1 - Aman 0

“Yeah,” he replied with a small lazy smile as a retort began to take shape. “I only ask because my music isn’t for everyone. It takes a certain kind of mind to appreciate it.”

Lady Reporter 1 - Aman 1

He enjoyed how narrow Aasha’s eyes got at that, and how her nostrils flared ever so slightly. He could see her resolve strengthening, as if she were rising to the challenge. Aman immediately forgot his exhaustion, his hunger, and his annoyance at this interview. All he could focus on was this gorgeous journalist who seemed to dislike him very, very much. This was going to be fun!

“Can I quote you on that?”

This got Aman to laugh. It was a rich and carefree sound. Aasha liked it too much for her liking. He shook his head and sat up in his chair. His eyes were twinkling and his cheeks were flushed.

“I think we need start over before I find more ways to get myself into trouble. Can we start over again?”

When Aasha allowed him a small smirk, he continued, “Hi. I am Aman. And you are …”

“I’m Aasha,” she replied in a guarded voice. “And that’s Jeff.”

Aasha. Aasha suited her much more than Lady Reporter.

Aasha. A different kind of desi , but a desi nonetheless.

Aasha. Hope.

A do-over had been a good idea. A brainwave, all things considered, and he was thankful to Lady Reporter for allowing him one. She could have made things very uncomfortable by lobbing his words back at him on a public platform like career-ending grenades. Instead she’d taken the higher ground; and yet that conceding of ground bothered him too.

Aman ordered himself a coffee, black with a splash of milk and three sugars, and a piece of walnut cake. He was still hungry, and the cake and the coffee were simply distractions till he could chance his hands on a real meal. The food on the table also gave him something to do while the reporters set up for the interview.

The quiet cafe was suddenly aflutter with activity. It was just two people moving about but it felt like there was a team of a dozen blurring around. Aman noticed how both Aasha and Jeff instantly transformed from bothered to professional as soon as work beckoned. They were both on their feet at the moment, Jeff tinkering with the camera, Aasha asking him questions in a language so alien to him, it might as well have been Latin, or Swahili.

Feeling fidgety he looked over to Dominic who had moved further away from the trio. Dominic was now standing with a cup of his own at the far end of the room. Aman was sure it was a black coffee with a splash of something from the hip flask. It sounded like a pretty good idea actually. Despite a stiff coffee in hand, Dominic looked extremely alert as he shifted from one foot to the other. Aman knew if there was a situation, Dominic would jump in with an orange life jacket without being asked. It was something he was very thankful for. He gave Dominic a discrete ‘I got this bro’ thumbs-up sign; there was no point in both of them being nervous wrecks right now.

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