I looked at him till he reached the stall. I immediately knew from his disposition that he was not interested in the movie and was going through the paces only because he had paid a stiff ticket price. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to go back to the movie. My mood was so foul I didn’t even feel like going to any friend’s house.Ī short while later I saw a young man who must be in his early 20s come out of the cinema hall and walk towards the food stalls at a leisurely pace. I ordered for the popcorn and sat there munching it wondering what to do till afternoon when my parents will be back home. When the movie resumed I did not enter the cinema hall. Caramel popcorn is my favourite but my day was spoilt by the movie. During the break I went to the loo first and then sat at the foyer near the stall that was selling popcorn. I was even feeling a little depressed by the time it was recess. But I sat through the first half of the emotional interludes exposed by the actors with absolute disdain. Though I was a ardent reader of Arthur Conan Doyle fiction novels and short stories I found the latest movie a tragic representation of the world’s best detective ever. The cinema hall was not crowded, and I thought probably Sunday morning is not the time most people in their right senses would trudge towards a local theatre to watch a movie. I had gone to watch Sherlock Holmes morning show. I had met him at Sterling cinema on Sunday last.
