On a sultry Sunday afternoon, I received a call from a friend. “I’ve booked tickets for Kung Fu Panda 3 . Get here fast!” I was over the moon. I love the Kung Fu Panda series for its innocent humour and lovable protagonist.
Also, as a 23-year-old engineering graduate trying to figure out what I want to do in life, I was in need of my dragon scroll. This would be my day. I was sure the wise words of Master Ugwe would light the spark and reveal to me my calling. I rushed to the cinema.
I found my friend and we settled down. Seven seats to my right were vacant. I put on my 3D glasses and prepared myself for two hours of awesome fun. A few minutes into the film, some late-comers arrived. Seven people, to be precise. The right number to occupy the vacant seats beside me. Normally, I wouldn’t mind. But this time it was different. With each step they took, my heart sank further. These were no ordinary people. They were six children, accompanied by one adult, a disastrous ratio. I prayed the woman would enter the row first, acting as a buffer between me and the kids, but my prayer went unanswered. She ushered the kids in and took the aisle seat herself. A chubby boy, not more than four years of age, plopped down beside me. He sort of resembled Po and would have been cute under different circumstances. I bade my happiness goodbye.
As each character appeared on screen, the kids screamed the name. When a joke was cracked, they howled with laughter, rendering the next three dialogues inaudible. During the action sequences, they jumped up and down, causing all the seats to vibrate. My neighbour tried to copy the fight moves playing on screen and landed some hard punches on my arm. I tried to politely convey to him that this wasn’t acceptable, but he had no ears for me. Finally, I threw caution to the wind and shamelessly pinched the little devil. Alas! He was too engrossed in the movie to notice. Luckily, it was time for the intermission and they all left the hall. I hoped that one of them had soiled his pants and they would all have to go home.
Just as the movie resumed, the pesky brats returned, this time with a truckload of food. Armed with popcorn, nachos, cakes and coke, they marched back to their seats. Throughout the second half, they created a ruckus, exchanging the food and often fighting over it. The sounds were driving me crazy! I looked at Shifu on the screen, calmed myself and tried to focus on the movie. The climax was nearing and the fighting was getting intense. As Po rained blows on his enemies, my excited neighbour bounced around, showering his popcorn on me. Then there was a pause in the fighting and a sentimental scene played out. The kids calmed down and I breathed a sigh of relief. Po’s clan had united to give him his life force, chi.
The last strawThen I felt a warm wetness creeping over my foot. Chhi! I looked suspiciously at the kid. No, no. He should be toilet-trained by now. I bent down to find that he had knocked over his soft drink. This was it. I was done being nice. I was going to give this mini panda a piece of my mind and teach him a lesson.
He seemed to sense that I was about to blow my top. He sprouted the most adorable pout and whimpered, “Sorry Aunty.” Aunty?! My fury shrivelled to distress. Here I was, fresh out of college, in the prime of my youth, and he’d called me an Aunty. So much for inner peace. I had no option but to forgive him, or risk being imprisoned for child abuse.
Remains of the dayFortunately, the movie ended soon afterwards. I plucked the random popcorn out of my hair and trudged out with a bruised arm, sticky toes, and a broken soul.
This outing hadn’t gone as per plan. Far from feeling motivated, I had realised that my generation is no longer the youngest and that there was no dragon scroll. I’d have to embark on my journey of self-discovery without the secret ingredient, after all.
I got over the dejection in a day. But when my friend proposed booking tickets for Jungle Book , I shot her a poisonous glance. I think I’ll wait till it comes on television.
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