WICKETS AND WIDGETS

Hello, Mr. Adani

"Whoa, this hotel is impressive, huh?" I marveled at the opulent interior of the hotel, holding my office bag close. "Meh, I can totally afford it... in my dreams."

As I was lost in my thoughts, a lady dressed in all white approached me, looking neat and friendly. "How may I assist you, sir?"

"Right, yeah. The name's Aryan. Aryan Singh. Engineer by profession, alma mater from Rohtak University, CGPA 8.3, and-" I was interrupted by the lady's voice.

"Um, that's not necessary, sir. I just want to know your purpose here. Are you looking to book a room, or are you here for lunch?" She stated plainly, trying her best to smile.

"I understand what you are saying. I was just trying to be polite, you know, the usual way conversations start," I chuckled before adding, "But hey, I'm actually on the hunt for someone. He's disappeared into thin air."

"Who are you looking for?" she inquired.

"John Cena," I replied with a dramatic sigh. "Man, he left me hanging. He was right here, but now, I can't see him."

Her eyebrows shot up in confusion. "Excuse me? Um, sir, was that a joke?"

"Absolutely," I grinned mischievously.

She shot me a stern look, "Sir, you're wasting my time."

"Oh, come on now, sweetheart. I caught you in the act, making an Instagram reel by the reception desk. I'm by no means wasting your time."

Her complexion deepened in hue with each passing second. I could practically see a temper scale beside her, and it was rising. "Look here, Aryan, or whoever you are. If this is your attempt at being slick and smooth in front of a lady, you've clearly missed the mark."

"Aw, shucks. I thought we had some strangers to lovers chemistry brewing there," I sighed in mock disappointment.

"You don't even know my name," she huffed at me in annoyance and briskly strolled off in the opposite direction, muttering something I couldn't quite catch.

"Worth a shot," I mused to myself with a shrug. "Ugh, the engineer curse strikes again! Rumor has it, we engineers perish without money, girls, and fun. I guess we're destined to be broke, single and virgin."

Shrugging, I moved inside, searching for the man I was actually here for—Mr. Raghav Adani, a South Indian model. My boss wants him to advertise our IT company for pamphlets.

Reaching the dining area, I pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from my coat. Raghav: 6 '1, Coat-suit, mask for popularity, smells like Sandalwood.

"The hell? Who cares about his scent?" I muttered. Office checklist – officially the weirdest.

Having perused the list, I scanned the area, my raven eyes following the crowd until they landed on a figure with his back to me. He seemed to tick all the boxes, so I confidently made my way toward him.

"Hello, sir," I greeted politely. He looked at me in surprise, swiftly masking it. His face remained hidden behind a mask, naturally. The only hitch was that he didn't smell like Sandalwood; instead, there was a faint aroma of honey and lilies.

He nodded, silent as the Sphinx. Well, isn't he a chatterbox? I thought, slightly annoyed. God must have a great sense of humor putting me here to convince Mr. Silent-and-Masked for our company.

I tried once again, "Hello, sir. I'm Aryan Singh from Skytale Private Limited. Our director, Mr. Oberoi, sent me here." Still, no reaction. Damn, this guy.

Okay, so let it be, I sighed and dropped my act, "Look, man, I'm not getting paid enough for this, you know. I mean, yeah, you're a popular model and all that, but hey, I can write it on paper that I work five times harder than you do. Like, what are the chances of you getting 1210 AIR in JEE ADVANCE?"