I set out to watch the acclaimed movie “the lunchbox”. It was playing at Aswathy theatre in SL complex, Trivandrum. At first i thought there would be a heavy rush and should try to book my tickets online. So i log on to a local site and it shows me a picture of the layout so that i could pick my seats. There are about ten rows with seven seats in a row. I think that probably the remaining are reserved already. I ditch the idea of online reservation and decide to buy the tickets at the theatre. I set off to the theatre. At the gates the security personnel asks me which movie i was going to. When i say lunchbox, he directs me to park outside the gates, otherwise i would not be able to move the car later on, as the movie was not a long one. I find a place along the overbridge and pace towards the ticket counter. I buy the tickets and head towards the theatre. To my astonishment the theatre was only as big as the layout depicted on the site where i was trying to book online tickets. The screen was as big as the overhead projector screen i used to have at home. The acoustics weren’t as bad as i thought, but the screen had the shadow of a rotating wall mounted fan. I look around and there are about ten to fifteen people in all, to watch what could have been India’s entry at the Oscars. I would have forgiven all these in lieu of the brilliant movie that “the lunchbox” is, if not for a group of three idiots who choose to sit behind us. Right from the start of the movie they started with their own script. After fifteen minutes of tolerating their bickering, i turned around and gave them a stare. They continued. After another ten minutes i turned around and said “please don’t add your own soundtrack”. At which the guy replied, “she is translating for me as I don’t know the language”. I can vouch for a fact that it was not translation that going on, it was indeed their comments and noisy laughter. The movie ended leaving me with a feeling of love and despair. Love for the growth of Indian cinema, for the scriptwriter for putting together a beautiful and simple love story, for Irfan Khan and his controlled emotions and many more.. Despair that it was shown at one of the worst movie theatres in the capital city of Kerala, that they thought -this was enough for this movie, for the three idiots who sat behind me disrespectful to the others in the cinema hall. Indian cinema has grown but there are people who don’t understand its growth, such that cinema goers like me bear the brunt of their illiteracy. PS, the side view mirror of my car and bumper stickers on the right side were broken/missing, thanks to a few more inconsiderate people.. All in the name of love for good cinema.