Seat selection!

Finding a seat in an auditorium can lead to sticky situations. The occasions vary- it may be a music concert or an Annual Day program. In these events, the seat is not assigned. The freedom of choice makes you always feel you made a bad seat selection!

The auditorium is completely empty. You select a seat in the first row. Soon, the auditorium fills up. Suddenly, the attendant asks for your “pass”. “Mere paas pass nahi hai! I just have a regular ticket!” you answer. The attendant says, “You have to move back because these are reserved seats” “Where is it written?” you question. He replies, “You see that rope tied after the third row? That means the first three rows are reserved!” “I came first to the auditorium!” you protest. Meanwhile, the chief guest is glaring at you to vacate the seat and so are a 1000 pair of eyes! Any more argument would mean physical eviction!

Sometimes, the hall is half full. In the first few rows, the corner-most seat is free. When it comes to the middle seat, only the back rows are available! If you are in the back rows, the artistes are indistinguishable from ants. From the corner seat, half the stage is obscured. You can see clearly- just the entry and exit of the artistes!

On other days, you are at the center and close to the stage. But now, it is like a packed Mumbai train. How you wish you had taken the corner seat! The AC ducts are only along the sides. Moreover, two individuals beside you are in constant chatter. Your attention is diverted to their juicy gossip and by the time you realize, half the program is over!

If everything above goes well, ahead of you, is someone as tall as a giraffe. And alongside him is an ostrich. All you get is a tiny window, through which you must peer. The giraffe and the ostrich enjoy music a bit too much- their heads are in perpetual movement! You have no choice but to follow their movement to align to that window! By the end of the program, the phrase, “pain in the neck” makes perfect sense!

Once, the person behind me complained that I was being an ostrich. I had to sink low in the seat, so that my head would not stick out. Anytime I sat straight, I got a knock on the head that I was obstructing his vision.

Suddenly, something snapped. I shot back, “I cannot shrink myself any smaller!” Defiantly, I pulled up my legs, sat on my haunches, and swelled up on the seat, rising like Lord Vishnu’s Vamana Avatara!

Sometimes, offence is the best form of defense!