Crush.

This crush thing wasn't new for Armaan. His first crush was his maths teacher in the first standard, who made Maths his favorite subject. His second crush was his elder cousin sister's best friend, for whom he learned to play guitar. His third crush was the girl sports captain of his school, who inspired him to play football. His fourth crush was the topper during his graduation, who aspired him to study hard. And now his fifth crush was Baano, who indirectly was the reason behind his successful short film.

And guess what?

Five is his lucky number.

•••

His mind was full of Baano in the morning. He stepped out on his balcony with a cup of coffee in his hand, to get some fresh air. But what he got was 440 volts of shock.

There was standing none other than Baano itself in the balcony opposite to his.

He pinched his hand, not once but twice. He blinked his eyes, not twice but thrice. His heart skipped beats, not thrice but indefinite times.

He wasn't hallucinating. Baano was standing there for real.

Uff! The childish smile on her face.
Oh! The silly grin on his face.

Uff! Her hair moving with the morning breeze.
Oh! He was rubbing his hair like a morning freak.

Uff! She was unaware of his presence.
Oh! He was unaware of this new emotional essence.

That morning was indeed good. But all the goodness faded as she exited her balcony, leaving him quite disappointed.

But the very next moment an idea struck on his mind and he ran out of his house with a utensil in his hand and mania in his heart.

•••

Jasbir Singh was watching his favorite drama with great interest. The hero had done his third plastic surgery and now he is trying to convince the heroine that he is her husband. Uff! These typical dramas, youth hate watching them while oldies being oldies enjoy everything about them.

The ringing of the doorbell pulled the seventy-year-old grandpa out of the drama. Making a tsk sound out of irritation he got up and went to open the door.

Has Sun rising from the west?
Or moon forgot to set in the morning?

In these five years, it was the first time that The Armaan Gill was standing in front of someone's doorsteps, that too with a utensil.

"Aaj khush toh bahut hogey tum? Jis Armaan Gill ne aaj tak kisi se ek boond paani tak nahi maanga, vahi Armaan Gill tumhare darwaaze par doodh maangne aaya hai."

The melodramatic grandpa was imagining him to say this. After all, Armaan was a director to shout out loud.

But to his utter disappointment, he simply said.
"Jasbir uncle, can I have some milk please?"

What's the benefit of being a director if he can't ask for milk in the Big B style?

Nonetheless, he nodded and beckoned him to enter inside. Armaan's eyes roamed around to have a glance of her.

"Baano Puttar!" Jasbir Singh called her.

She came out of the same room which had the balcony opposite to his balcony.

"Yes, Dada-mama."

"Bring him some milk."

Finally, she looked at him, who was looking at her with an intense gaze. Surely she recognized him. Her eyes reflected a sight of familiarity. However, she refrained from pointing it out. Because it's none of her business.

Without exchanging a single word she took the utensil from him and went to the kitchen. He was disappointed as well as impressed.

The grandpa again busied himself in his favorite drama. His hands clutching the remote tightly, his eyes darted at the screen, his white beard and moustache highlighting his fair skin tone. Surely he was a good-looking man in his youth.

Well, it's not the author but Armaan Gill himself describing the man sitting in front of him.

Everything around him was an inspiration for him. Even if his landlord threw him out of his house, still he will say, "I'll use it in my next project."

He was that kind of perfectionist whom people will call maniac. But that is what he is and he is proud of this.

Baano came back after pouring milk into the utensil and gave it to him. He mumbled a thank you and left, even when he wanted to keep looking at her petite frame for the rest of his life.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Baano was pacing around in the rehearsal hall, waiting for the lead model of the music video to come.

It was the first time that she will choreograph someone. She was a bit nervous.

"Hey Baano, the lead model is coming in a few minutes. All the best." Nicky informed while passing by her.

A girl entered the large room with mirrored walls. Baano had one thing in her mind that the model will have tantrums for sure. Like, she will ask for a break in every ten minutes. She will blame Baano if she can't dance properly. And will directly complain to the director if Baano objected to her. But the one standing in front of her looked opposite to what she had thought.

"Hi, I am Roshni."

"Baano... I mean Baani Ahluwalia, your choreographer."

"You are the same girl naa, who had beaten Sarpanch's son in your village a few months ago?"

If I say Baano was shocked, that would be an understatement. The whole Hoshiarpur knew about her temper and dislike towards spoilt rich kids. However, she was shocked that now even Patiala knew about her beating banter.

"You know what, that day I was present there when you were beating that idiot. Only because of you I could perform satisfactorily in my short film."

"Shortfilm?"

"Yeah, that day I was supposed to act in a scene of a short film in which I had to beat a guy who misbehaved with me. I had no idea how to perform it, but after watching you I did it effortlessly."

"Oh!"
That was all Baano could say. Seriously she was perplexed at what she just got to know. Her besting session was used as an inspiration in a short film and she had no idea about it.

She just let it go for now and focused on rehearsals.
"Let's start rehearsals."

But now she was going to watch that short film for sure.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Armaan wasn't the one who would wait for the knock of opportunity. He always somehow finds the window to reach the opportunity. The same goes for Baano. He wasn't going to rely on destiny, he knew how to initiate a conversation with her. And for that, he needed only a pin. Yes, you heard, I mean, read the right thing. He especially borrowed a hairpin from Banto Aunty. Banto Aunty was his maid who made heavenly delicious butter chicken.

Back to the point. He while coming back from jogging punctured the tires of Baano's activa.

And right now he was waiting for Baano to come out so that he can execute his next step.

After few minutes Baano came out properly dressed in an Indo-western Kurta. But her good mood took a u-turn when she found her activa's both tires being punctured.

Armaan wanted to jump and shout out loud but he refrained himself. He was getting over-excited. Trying his best to hide the silly grin from his face, he casually paced to his car, which was parked adjacent to Baano's activa.

Normalizing his swift heartbeats he looked at her with a fake perplexity.

"Miss Baani, is there any problem?"

"Nothing, it's just someone punctured my activa's tires."

"Oh, I am damn sure Mr. Bhalla's naughty kids did this. They are troublemakers. They have many times punctured my car's tires as well. By the way, would you like to come with me? I mean, we both are going to the shooting."

Baano thought for a moment but then nodded. Like this, both of them began their one and half an hour-long journey to the shooting location.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The atmosphere was filled with silence for Armaan's utter disappointment. Baano was simply looking outside the window, totally ignoring his presence.

However, Armaan won't be Armaan if he doesn't switch the situation in his favor. After all, he was a director to shout out loud.

"So how were the rehearsals?"

"Good."

#disappointed😕

"And Roshni?"

"Nice."

#double disappointed😡

"Nice bracelet, by the way."

"Thanks,..... my Dadi had gifted this to me on my eighteenth birthday."

#mission successful😉

"Oh, you seem close to your Dadi."

"Yes, we are close to each other. I am the only daughter in the family and she adores me the most."

"Oh, tell me more about her."

Like this Armaan came on talking terms with Baano. The trick was pretty simple. Everyone loves to talk about their family and vice-versa.

"She is my role model. I have even heard that in her youth she used to beat those boys who misbehave with girls that too with her Khasuri jutti. And one day I told her that a boy misbehaved with me. So she gave me her stick and said to beat that boy with it. From that day onwards whenever any guy tried to be free with me, I beat him with her stick."

"Just like Sarpanch's son?"

"Yeah."

"Trust me, it was a sight to see. And over the top, it was a great help in my short film."

"By the way, I have seen your short film a few days ago."

"Really? Did you like it?"

"Loved it. I had no idea that my beating banter will inspire something like this."

"Your beating banter was iconic. And I hope you didn't mind that I used it in my short film."

"Of course, not. Now it's your creativity that you molded it into your work so efficiently."

"You are the first one to call me creative. I mean, most of the people I met think of me like a maniac. Because I have weird ways to get inspiration."

"It's called unique, not weird."

"Its person's mentality which makes things weird or unique. And I can care less about that."

"That's called spirit!"

"Yeah, you know what I am even planning to add Jasbir uncle's character in my upcoming project."

"What type of character it would be?"

"A great lover of drama. The male version of those melodramatic aunties. For whom life is all about entertainment, entertainment, and entertainment."

A series of laughter followed their conversation. And that's how the real story begins.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆