Repeating History

Harry Mace’s grandfather was his best friend. The eleven short years for which he enjoyed his company were the best cherished moments of his life. They would sit in the porch of his house for hours together and talk about everything from ballgames to girlfriends.

There was one other person who had become Harry’s priority and that was his unusually attractive secretary Sarah. In finding ways to charm her, he once thought of trying a little act on her which his grandfather had tried on a lady that he was immensely in love with. “I wanted to marry her but circumstances did us apart,” his grandfather had told him.

That evening, Harry took Sarah to “The Hub” adjoining the Western Express Highway. They sat at a corner table at the coffee shop, away from rest of the bustle of the place. She asked him, “How was your day today?” He started off with this story, “I had gone to Linking Road. There was a huge international trade fair going on there. I was with one of my colleagues who insisted that we take a stroll through the fair and see what’s on offer. I agreed and we went inside. There was one guy in there who was selling fire crackers. He had the smallest stall and he was selling one particular fire cracker which he called The Bombshell. There was a placard put up on his stall which said – Buy the BOMBSHELL. Light one up and get another BOMBSHELL free inside it. Only $1/-.”

“His was the only stall around which a huge crowd had gathered up. That got me curious. I thought, what is in that fire cracker that makes so many people  want to buy it? So, I fought my way through the crowd and bought one. When I came back I couldn’t contain my curiosity. So, I arranged the red, cartridge like cracker in between two small stones and set it on fire with my lighter. It wasn’t much of a bombshell if you ask me. It went off making a minor explosion which was hardly audible in the din of the fair.”

“The moment it burst though, a piece of paper flung into the air from within the cracker. It came sailing down through the air like a dead, dry leaf detached from the branch of a tree during autumn. It landed right near my feet. I bent over and picked it up. When I turned it over and looked at it, I thought to myself, ‘Oooohhhhhh! So, this is the BOMBSHELL that guy was talking about.’ It was…..”

“Let me guess,” Sarah interjected. “It was my photograph, right? Harry, you are so predictable”

Dumfounded, Harry asked her, “B…..But how did you know.” Sarah said, tapping her finger on the tabletop, “You see Harry, even I had a Grandmother who told me stories about how some men tried to impress her.”