Going to the theatre is an experience. And a half.

For me, at least. As I don’t go that often and whenever I do, it’s always a huge song and dance, involving a good deal of preparation, much checking of times and dates, whom to go with (!) – always my mother, sometimes my friends – and it had to be during the day, as getting an auto is always a hassle once it’s past 6 in the evening. [What is Rs 25 at five o’clock, becomes Rs 50 three hours later. Horrors!] Which means it nearly always has to be either 12 or 3 in the afternoon.

Believe you me, it’s no joke.

Sathyam makes it a pleasure to watch movies, though. Especially now, since the online reservation system’s working like a charm.

For someone who’s used to trying to book stuff in advance, or getting over there, all caught up in suspense about whether you will or won’t get tickets for a certain movie [involving a mad dash to and from the theatre] – this is something of a godsend. And choosing your own seats is fun. Not to mention goggling at the special features they’ve introduced – like choosing your refreshments too.

Which is why I thought I’d try out the Six Degrees theatre.

For once, Sathyam doesn’t look like someone’s always working on it, going at some part of the building hammer and tongs, and making it look as though you’re in imminent danger of being crushed under a paint can, maybe. And once I’d done skidding through the tiles [does no one ever skid on those orange/blue monstrosities? Have I been the only one to be afflicted with Skidosis?] and safely made it inside the theatre [which is, thankfully, on the ground floor] … I was very relieved, I must admit, to see that the seats were well-lit – there were tiny pin-points of lights under them – and there’s room to stretch your legs out and slump in your seat, and still to spare.

Oh, what a relief to actually sit in a theatre where everyone doesn’t have to squeeze past you, and vice versa. With everybody squirming in discomfort. A protracted few seconds of torture.

Refreshments were served promptly during the interval, making me feel a little like Cleopatra/Miranda Priestly/my boss/ [insert any other character of your choice who is served hand and foot and has the right to yell at you] – and which increased my faith in Sathyam. I wanted to talk to the PRO, but she was out at lunch, so I got her number – while being watched by a motley, curious group of employees who stared me out of countenance – and came away.

As to what movie I watched ? – it made me desperately want to go over to ‘Runway’ and smack Ms Priestly in the face. God, Meryl Streep can act. I fell in love with her acting in She-Devil, and have been hopelessly addicted, ever since. And oh, she can wear Prada. Or Gucci. Or DKNY. Or Dior. She looks fabulous in any and everything. And when she looks at Anne Hathaway with those eyes narrowed and head at an angle, saying, “I’ve hired young, beautiful girls who wanted this job more than anything, and they all disappointed me – so I thought I’d hire the smart, fat girl and try you out.” – And you, sitting in your seat, can only open and close your mouth like a muddled goldfish, burn up and dissolve into a mass of blubbering, nervous goo. Give the devil her due.

And as the movie whizzes past, you’re plunged into the madness that is fashion, running around with Andrea Sachs, getting chewed up by the boss, rattled by your co-worker who wears mascara weighing a ton and speaks with the most beautiful English accent (enough to give you a complex) … and oy, the clothes. Oh yeah.

But that’s another story, for another day.