I remember the first time I noticed that number was when I first moved to the apartment complex and parked my shining Karizma right next to it. It stood there as it stands here today, neglected, rusting at places yet sharing parking space with the Mercedes parked beside it. Why would anyone keep this piece of junk if they weren’t using it and if they were, why weren’t they taking care of it. What kind of people stayed here?

“Arey bahut ameer log rehte hain yahan. Neeche mercedes nahin dekhi tune?” Y, my college buddy and now flat-partner asks me.

“Arey mercedes bhi dekhi aur uske bagal mein khadi scrap ki dukaan bhi. Ussi ko dekh kar pooch raha hoon, aisi gaadi kaun rakhta hain yaar?”

“Are you talking about that old kinetic by any chance?” asks N, my other new flat mate. ”That belongs to one of the hottest females in this complex. Don’t you dare say anything about her. She is one of the prime sources of entertainment around here.”

Not wanting to get off on a wrong foot with my flat-mates on the very first day, I just ignored it all together. After all, why did I care.

It was one of the duller weeks at work. Since we had just finished a production release, there wasn’t too much work and requirements for the next release were just coming in. These are the weeks when the manager asks you to take things easy and going late a few times in the week is not frowned upon. It was on one of these days that I was leaving home late. I was dusting my bike and getting ready for the journey when my eyes chanced upon the owner of the Kinetic Honda. She was dressed in a smart suit, wore the oh-so-snobby large ray-bans and was desperately trying to start her scooter. I didn’t realize that she actually even used that thing. Obviously the bloody thing wouldn’t even start. She called Prem Singh to help and I decided to hang around some more, wiping my bike clean. Every word N had told me about her suddenly seemed true. She was indeed quite pretty and equally snobbish, just like all pretty girls who know they are pretty. Anyways I stood there, cleaning last night’s dirt off my bike, knowing very well that she was having a difficult time getting started and she seemed in a hurry.

“Excuse-me, I am having trouble getting my scooter started, if it’s not a bother, can you help me out?” The voice belonged to the pretty-young-snobby thing standing beside me. But it was not at all what I had expected. You see I had already made up an impression of her as a snob and hearing such a sweet and pleading voice just didn't seem right. Thanks a lot N, forming impressions even before meeting them, not a really nice thing to do.

Anyways there was a damsel in distress and I was the man of the hour. I had fiddled around enough with bikes and scooters to know how they worked. After about 10 minutes of checking her scooter, adjusting the idling RPM and checking the fuel levels, I was able to get her scooter started.

“Oh, thank you so much, I don’t know what I would have done without you today. Thanks a lot, Mr..”

“Sid”

“Yes thanks a lot, you stay here only right, we will bump into each other soon, thanks a million once again” With this she smiled at me and then left. Leaving behind her a trail of the wonderful perfume. What is it with women and perfumes. How do they manage to smell so nice every time. I mean, any woman enters the lift and you can make out the sweet fragrance of flowers and the moment she leaves, she takes that enchanting smell with her. Anyways, back to Priya, she was indeed as pretty as N had described her but definitely not snobbish, in fact she seemed very friendly and outgoing. Or was that because, she needed to get her work done and she just turned on her charm. “Why are you even thinking about her so much? She needed your help and you helped her. THAT’S IT”

You see that’s the point. THAT’S NEVER IT for a guy. Any remotely female looking object is an object of desire, a dream unfulfilled and something to be pondered and plotted over. I decided that more interaction was required and delayed my office start everyday so that I would bump into her and maybe even help her with the scooty. One of these days, I could even give her a ride on my bike....... Why didn’t you do that today, you dumb ass, she was in a hurry, you were jobless, you could have offered her a ride. DAMN! Why do all good things come after the moment has passed. There is still hope with a delayed start every day.

“Shaabji, Kya kar raho ho?” It was Prem Singh, the building watchman, imported all the way from Nepal.

“Dikhta nahi hain kya, gaadi polish kar raha hoon.”

“Jab saaf karne ki baari aayi thi, tab tho aapne humein diya nahi, ab polish karke kya faida shaab?” Saying this and expecting my chilly reply he titers away before I can give him a piece of my mind.

The Kinetic Honda I was trying to bring a shine to was a 98 model registered in the name of Ms. Priya Krishnamurthy. registration Number - KA-03, EW 8928.