This Is No Skyfall

The days were sunny. Sunflowers looking towards the sun showed all was well with the world and God was right up there in the heaven above.

Good Papa George stretched his arms out like a bear, looking over the sands onto the distant sea waters.

O for a ship to sail by! He adjusted his binoculars.

But there was something nagging him real bad. He had started on this rant exactly three weeks earlier. As he grew in age and wisdom or something of that sort, his rants became more pronounced.

There were some major issues at work he had to deal with and he was gifted to know exactly how. In the sky, far above, was an unseen pillar of cloud over him, telling him what to do.

Who to retrench? Who to keep.

Unflinching loyalty, solid work ethos, and hardline sincerity had to be weighed in the balance carefully. When obstacles loom large, ordinary men long for an escape.

They quit.

However, this was NOT the earth shattering matter bothering him this morning. Life would carry on nevertheless. He knew without a shadow of doubt.

What was more 'typhoonic' in his soul- was something that had come to town which he hadn’t yet found time for.

There’s no such word, but you must get my gist, we, who belong to this SpaceX gen, where everything is possible.

“I want to watch the new Bond movie. I'm going right ahead and book the seats.”

“Oh, do we have to?” Maiya asked. She was not in the least bit interested.

“I'm just going to book, alright? If I leave it to you, nothing happens. Tell me when you're free. Next Tuesday looks good.”

He droned on ...na na na na na.

Maiya had stopped listening minutes ago. She had taken out her phone and got busy solving Word Guru. Then there was Elevate to follow up.

Now the good woman was not into Bond theatrics. She had absolutely no desire to spend two hours of her precious time watching the earth slip under the hero’s flawless feet, or gape at huge buildings crumbling down on the handsome tight- lipped bloke. Agreed, he was a handsome bloke. But that didn’t discount the silly things he did on the screen and expect people to believe he’s for real.

Mr. Bond escaped every human assault without so much as a layer of dust on him. George, on the other hand, couldn’t balance a cup on the saucer without spilling. Coffee burns, you know. And if ever there were stray granite blocks hovering dangerously overhead, the Bond guy would either slip away bang on time, with the ease of a ballet dancer, or just plain flick it away with his fingers. Remarkable to say the least, he always walked out clear in his immaculately cut suit.

Men sighed in earnest admiration.

The women ate pretzels with a fury hitherto unknown.

If it was to be a movie night, Maiya would choose romance any day to stir up the emotions like ne’er before. Give her a touching story of true love, some vigorous Dean Martini swaying of bodies in motion, peppered with some classic humor.

So she said, “I've got something happening every day. Sorry, honey, no evening is free.”

A white lie comes in handy at times.

Then Papa enticed their impressionable young daughter telling her how he used to love Bond movies in his teen years. It was his passport to the world of fast cars in unbelievably beautiful cities. He judiciously left out mentioning 'beautiful women', because as you see engineering marvels combined with architectural expertise were his only fascinators.

As if.

George could not for the life of him fathom how a young woman wouldn’t love to watch James Bond. What were the young ladies thinking of these days? Keto?

"That decides it. We're going on Tuesday."

Then he went quiet on the computer. Ahhhh peace! The keys didn’t bother Maiya a bit.

Tuesday dawned sooner than mama could say ‘honey pancake’. That's because she'd never say Jack Robinson. But she had gotten sick like a croaky toad.

Acute viralitis, pharyngitis, body hurtingitis.

George showed up with adequate sympathy but he swayed a little more to despair for his Tuesday date to proceed undeterred.

“Here’s some vitamin C- 1000 mcg. Don’t forget to inhale. Do it twice a day.”

His voice was like the one he reserved for his office manager when he wanted miscellaneous stuff printed.

Bond was waiting at the Cinema and it was no fun going alone.

“Oh, Maiya, just wrap yourself up in a shawl, or make it two shawls, and let’s go. I’ve booked something very special. You’ll be surprised.”

Now Maiya, I’ll have you know, was in her heart of hearts, a born pleaser, so totally biddable, so compliant, like you can’t imagine a modern woman to be. I mean, if you looked at her you would think she was a headstrong, stubborn-as-mule kinda woman and you would be so wrong.

So, there she was, dutifully getting ready. But every movement took much longer than intended. And she was not even that old. She groaned extra loud, making sure he heard.

Then she croaked. Not the dying kind of croak. This croak was for real; she wasn’t putting it on. Her voice had taken on a new bass.

“But I read the reviews,” she said. “Mary’s FB status update last night was: ‘OMG it's boring and it’s soooo long’. And Rima commented: ‘Rubbish! Waste of time!’ in their remarks about the movie."

“So who cares?” George huffed.

“O honey, do we really have to go?”

“Come and see, it's a surprise. You'll love it,” he replied.

The surprise was the golden class tickets George had bought to make it extra special. Super soft luxury black sofas, with super soft black blankets to curl under. And food brought to your table on ordering.

Wow! Man o’ man.... Mama thought to herself.

When George wants something, he makes sure he does it in style. He smiled fatherly at Rianne as he settled into the soft leather seats.

The movie started as predictable as imagined.

First a building crumbles on Bond.

Then believe it or not: the earth gives way.

Hero escapes.

By now your hands should be gripping the seat handles.

(But they’re not)

A red car speeds alongside a speeding train.

Maiya drifts off to deep, sweet sleep.

Fifteen minutes of sheer bliss. Then she gets woken up by an ear thundering sound to see some more unbelievably sophisticated skills.

How wondrously glorious for a man to be doing all he does, she thinks, as she sinks deeper into her cozy contoured, velvety arm chair.

Zzzzzzzzzz

There’s another fire hazard.

A car smash. Our Bond is unharmed.

There's a woman on incredibly high heels. She doesn’t falter, nor does she fail in standing tall. The hero is unmoved.

No feminine seduction is going to overpower his steel grey will.

Zzzzzzz..Maiya was drifting off again.

George had finished all the nachos, though the cheese tasted odd. Maiya didn’t seem to want any.

One hour into the movie, noticing her mother was awake now, and wanting a much needed diversion, Rianne, whispered into her ears. That she could very well be a spy.

“Hello there, I’m Bond, Jasmine Bond ...ta...dang ta....dang.”

She whistled the score.

“I’m on a special MissionX to rescue the helpless. Sometimes it’s men who need to be saved. In the new world, things have evolved. Today it’s men who are in distress with women who twist them around their diamond fingers. Men's rescue of women is overdone, don’t you agree, ma?”

Maiya smiled, “O yes, my honey, I think that should work out a pretty good plot. Jasmine Bond rescues a harassed husband from the clutches of an evil spy-woman who wants to conquer the whole of the Indian subcontinent. For extra masala, throw in a few street dances. No fast cars, but elephants. Some cows too.”

Both Maiya and Rianne giggled.

George shooed them both, “Shhhh, go back to sleep.”

Mama curled under the blanket and went into another deep snooze. Suddenly the movie was over. Papa looked as exhilarated as he was at 17. Not that mama knew him then.

“Wasn't it great? Did you like it?” He asked.

“Hrrumpp,” Mama coughed out her comment.

This time she wasn’t pretending.

It was already night outside and as she hobbled down the dimly lit stairs, the viral fever soared and hit a new high.

Looking ahead, she cleared her eyes to see better.

There he was leaning by the drink stand.

The Bond guy himself.

But Maiya was not in her best form to meet the handsome Daniel Craig with no mascara, no lipstick. No, not Craig wearing the mascara and lipstick.. that would be silly.

She was thinking of herself.

And here she was wrapped in two shawls, TWO...for crying out loud. And she was not even that old. The shawls hung heavy on her shoulders.

Didn't he just step out of the screen?

Craig was talking straight at Maiya. He was singing to her.

"Maiya! Hello,​ is it me you're looking for?

I can see it in your eyes, I can see it in your smile,

You're all I've ever wanted and my arms are open wide.....”

Maiya took a stand.

Pointing her fingers skywards, her palms across, she pronounced, in the sweetest voice her croaky throat allowed her, and her tired frame could hold the pose.

“Hulllooo there.... I'm Bond, Jasmine Bond. Dundedun.. dun da.. dun dun da danggggg.”

She skipped a step and almost fell. Luckily for her both George and Rianne caught her shawls at the opportune time.

Outside the large window, the sky shone bright with the light streaming in like a pillar of fire.

It must be the fever.