Manipulation Of A Different Sort

Frankly, I was mildly flattered. 3-4 deliberate glances in my direction can’t be a coincidence, right?

I was in my somber, formal attire that evening, and my face wore a distinct layer of grime and dust that a 25 kms ride in the Hyderabad traffic can give you. As I made myself comfortable in the “retro-marries-gypsy” settings in Mocha and waited for my omelette, I eyed a bunch of guys throwing quick glances at me at frequent intervals. But then I looked around, and my inflating ego lost most of its fizz.

I had tough competition.

Neatly done-up (unlike me) and fresh-looking (unlike me) ladies were all over the place, blowing puffs of that sweet-smelling smoke from ‘sheeshas’. Also, there was a bevy of PYTs at the other end who had come to a friend’s birthday party and were dressed to the nines.

So, why were they looking at me?

As I glanced around my table, the sofa and even the innocuous-looking table lamp for possible clues, it suddenly struck me. They were after my table!

I suddenly realized that the place was teeming with people, and most of the tables were occupied by couples/ groups. I was the only one who had singly occupied a table and the whole expanse of a large sofa all by myself, and they wanted me out of there as soon as possible.

Strangely, I started feeling guilty. As I watched them standing by the door and inching towards me as a standing passenger in a bus inches towards a soon-to-be-vacated seat, I began to feel the need to hurry up. It was not that I could help myself. There was no smaller seat meant for a single person at that place, and the whole arrangement was done in the same manner. But, nevertheless, I began to gobble up my omelet, and tried to push the fries down my throat with copious amounts of cold coffee.

I watched as their body language transformed. It was no longer a tacit thing. They showed their impatience openly as they tapped their fingers on the wall, and exchanged short phrases with each other. We were communicating in a strange, psychological way, and my pace of ingestion became faster.

And then I realized how I was being pushed to bow to someone else’s demand! My yummy meal of omelet, fries, bread and cold coffee (Rs. 452+taxes) was passing just as a masticated lump. I was not even heeding to the music (which is a sacrilege for me).

So, I decided to turn the tables. I relaxed my mechanically-chewing jaw and leaned back on the cozy backrest of the sofa. It had the desired effect on the impatient bunch. A look of bewilderment crossed their faces and they started speaking animatedly.I had, by now, laid the fork and knife by the plate, and had starting tapping my feet to the jazzy Arabic tune that played in the background.

The group continued to watch me for some time and after sensing that I had no intention of leaving then, quietly made it downstairs to wait in the lounge area.

I was, in the meantime, discovering that my omelet had delish bits of cheese, chicken salami and olives stuffed inside.

Singles, couples or groups – we all have full rights to our restaurant tables.