Drishyam 3 and How I met your father
26M here. Currently working as a Government employee in Kerala. Today was....let's just say...not normal. Like any self-respecting Malayali out there, I started off my day by calling in sick and going for Drishyam 3 on A10's birthday. No, this is not a movie review, but believe me guys, the movie did have its share of twists, turns and suspense enough to last the day (after all its Drishyam we're talking about). Now, the thing about me is that I LOVE movies and was completely immersed in Georgekuttys's world so much so that I was searching for plotholes (not potholes as I should have) even when I missed my exit on the highway.
It was in this frame of mind that I stepped into a bank about 30 km away from my office (trust me, it matters) to apply for a credit card. Just like every other person who wishes to get things done from a bank, I put up maximum vinayam on my face and asked the security chettan whom should I approach. He pointed to the young lady nearby and I went to her.
She was in her early twenties, good-looking and was diligently doing her work. I don't know about you guys, but I was brought up on enough cheesy Malayalam romcoms to be a hopeless romantic and was expecting something along the lines. But since I had neither the looks of KuBO in the 2000s nor the charm of Nivin in 2010s, and especially since I was no longer the carefree unemployed broiler engineer I used to be, I decided to keep things completely professional and approached her. She succinctly explained to me about the different options and their benefits. I handed over my documents and she perused them. And when she stumbled upon my official ID, she asked me, "Oh, Sir aa officil aano work cheyyunne?" and with beaming pride I answered in the affirmative (smooth start, huh?).
She further told me that she lived within my office jurisidiction, we exchanged pleasantaries and just like that we started a local geography quiz. I asked her if she lived in a particular town to which she replied, "No, but my father owns a factory unit there". I was naturally curious hearing this and enquired her father's name.
Now, for those who have no idea of the situation in a Government office such as mine, let me just educate you: You have to meet (or handle, in certain cases) atleast a 100 people every day. The odds of me remembering her father even if we had met somehow for some office business was extremely slim. But when she uttered her father's name, I was completely surprised. Not only did I knew her father, but I was the one who forced (not proud of it) the man to temporarily shut down his unit on the very previous day until he complied with the pollution norms. And of all the banks in all the towns in all the world, I walked into hers.
I believe there is a limit to what the brain can process- because, my brain was already reeling under the 2 hour 38 minutes orgy-of-twists brewed by Jeethu Sir and it just gave up. It immediately went back to what the malakha or "bucket star" (you'll get it when D3 releases on OTT) said in D3, "Small world,huh?". Despite my exhausted brain trying insanely hard not to laugh out loud at the awkwardness, I gave out a chuckle and it sounded something similar to John Honai when he said "Hehehe, Ammachi....aa petti ing thanner...!". Now, you can't just ask for someone's father's name and then laugh like a maniac upon hearing it and so I immediately went on defensive mode. I had to explain the entire particulars of her father's case- that the neighbours were going beserk calling me even on holidays, I was just following the law and that my hands were tied.
Although the situation was awkward and extremely peculiar, she just smiled (perhaps seeing my full panic mode) and went on with her job. Still there was this absurd comedic tension that lingered. For instance, she wanted a copy of my ID which she took out from its case and couldn't put back. She was flustered and slightly anxious she ruined it. I asked her to relax and told that I would take care of it later. Later, it was my turn to mess up. I made trivial mistakes on the application form and had to sheepishly ask her for a new one. And there was also this incredibly awkward KYC photo session where she asked me to smile for the photo to which I could only laugh considering the absurdity of the situation (Btw I have no idea what KYC asks you to smile or if she was "sketching" me somehow)
Finally, she completed all the formalities and with a beaming smile informed me when I could expect the card. I thanked her for the service, gathered whatever was left of my wits and walked out. And when I was driving back home I couldnt help but realise, Jeethu Joseph might need a murdered teenager and an under-construction police station to create drama, but reality just need something as mundane as a bank visit.