A Blind Date

Twenty-nine-year-old Corporal Sangeetha Kaur, who was never late even for personal appointments, stood dressed in traditional sari and choli at the ground level of ITC Sonar hotel in Kolkata. Eight o'clock. The long summer day ensured enough sunlight to sustain a dreamy North Indian landscape.

I wondered why I've agreed to this meeting. The man I'm meeting is supposed to be very reputable and rich—according to Aunt Bali—he could afford to refurnish the Taj Mahal in gold, and our destinies might be to meet and marry each other. I'm now no longer cute enough to play with so Mother cannot wait to get me off her hands.

Sangeetha stared hypnotically at the full-length glass wall lining the entire ground level corridor. Rivulets of rainwater, like tears of Lord Shiva, streamed down the glass at one-foot intervals, leaving intervening columns of clear glass. What she glimpsed on the outdoor vista on the other side was so breathtaking—a sprawling pond with packs of olive-green heart-shaped floating leaves, and blooming red water lilies—she forgot the purpose of this appointment, an arranged date with a stranger.

A firm tap on the shoulder. "Hi, my name is Rohit Shetty. Are you Miss San—"

Sangeetha performed an about-turn like in foot drills, and her eyes widened. The man, with a protruding belly, wore a white tailored shirt with long sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm. His skin colour, at least under this lighting, was a shade darker than hers.

He must be a janitor in his forties! What am I thinking? Is this Aunty's idea of a practical joke?

Wild ideas ran through her mind, mostly about how to take revenge on aunty. "Yes, I'm Sangeetha Kaur," she said, more demurely than she intended. "Very nice to meet you."

"I'm sorry to be slightly late," he grinned. "Shall we go to the restaurant at the end of this passage?" He showed the way.

Ha, he may be familiar with the hotel. Wondering who else he has met here.

Sangeetha was trained to observe, so she let her gaze fall downwards. Without giving away any of her thoughts on the face, she was immediately startled by two objects Rohit wore. A Vacheron Constantin watch and Black Givenchy oxford shoes.

Perhaps Aunty didn't lie. Aaaaah, should have at least google stalk him before the date. I am going to make a fool of myself.

They sat down at a table. There was no military protocol or general orders instruction on how to conduct herself on this occasion. Sangeetha did not have a before-action briefing on the advance into hostile territory either. This could be search and destroy, or some kind of hide and seek. Or suicide mission.

"This is a lovely hotel," Sangeetha said. "You should stay here at least once, if you haven't. I was a guest once. The door was heavily built as if the guest room was a bank vault. As a result, I… I felt safe sleeping through the night."

Rohit laughed. "Better safe than sorry. Though the terrorist incident at Mumbai is unlikely to be repeated here. They are wary about security staff like you. In your uniform, the look must be threatening."

Sooner or later, after ordering their meals, chatting about the weather and how peaceful the pond looked, someone had to broach the subject. Somehow. Alright, it might be possible to pretend an urgent text came through and sneak a quick glimpse at Google News. There should be some delicious scandal about Bollywood actresses or American senators that they could converse about. But this strategy would only delay the inevitable.

"I was told you are a soldier." Rohit leaned forward and said in a gentle tone of voice. "I must admit I've not known any soldiers personally."

She lifted her glass of mango lassi to show him her toned triceps. The thin material of the dupatta came in handy because he could see her well-formed shoulders, pectoralis major and prime estate on the chest.

"Well, now you've dated one soldier." Sangeetha showed a crooked mouth. "It's only fair I know what you do for a living."

Bad move. I've just confessed I didn't bother to do my homework, to ask Aunty, or hire a sleuth.

"I was blessed by my father's foundation, so I don't need to work. My family owned most of ITC, so yes, that includes this hotel we're in."

She gasped. "But… but you were busy, am I right, that's why you were late?"

"I'm a colorectal surgeon in the Aravind charity hospital, when I want to."

What? That does it! Colorectal means he is a BFD, a Buttock-Facing Doctor.

I have to break off this relationship if there's any. Otherwise, after we're married and putting the children to sleep, we will have a glass of wine and chat about the metallic devices—what they called proctoscopes I think—that he inserted into people's anuses. Yucks!

"I see." Involuntarily, Sangeetha bent over and cackled profusely. "I… I don't… mean to be rude… but sir, … sorry… so sorry…"

Memories of a crude drill sergeant in basic military training flashed before me. On the parade square, when all of us had to look ahead standing stiff, the sergeant would walk around to inspect us. He would say—Don't collapse your posture or look anywhere but in front, otherwise when I come from the back, I'll fuck your arseholes from behind using the baton, courtesy of the Indian Army. The sergeant's face keeps transforming into Rohit. God, I must be losing my mind.

Sangeetha finally said. "Most charitable. You are such a generous person. Colon cancer is the number two killer in the world."

And the number one topic I want to avoid in future dinner conversations. Oh, no. How to exfiltrate from this one. Okay, think of prisoner training. Techniques to survive the torture. Don't hope to endure an hour, just the next ten seconds. Then another ten seconds. Then another. Until I fall comatose from the pain. Or until the cavalry arrives. In my case, I don't expect anyone to come to the rescue.

"Thank you." He bowed his head. "It means a lot to hear you say it. We're like friends already."

The torture endurance worked. Eleven at night already. He didn't suggest drinks, go anywhere else, or exchange phone numbers. She thought about what excuses to give and came up with, on hindsight, the lamest one.

"So sorry. My unit has outfield deployment tomorrow, so I need to book into the camp before midnight."

They both stood up at the same time, asking for the bill.

"It's alright, I've got to go as well. One of my VIP's arranged for a procedure for me to do, soon."

Pra-chodh. You're kidding me, at this time? Did you come for a date knowing about this case to do? Can't even date on your spare time? What a scam. What a BFD.