Parking Spot 7

Harsh sunlight. Cramped parking lot. Painted lines. A SECURITY BOOTH in the background. PARKING SPOT 7 is the only shaded spot.

NANDINI (41), formal salwar suit, sunglasses on head, giant handbag, clipboard, stands at the edge of the shade.

ZOYA (33), helmet on, jacket, sneakers, leans casually on her SCOOTER seat.

Excuse me. Ye spot occupied kaise hai?

Madam, same way aapka mood occupied lag raha hai.

Main principal hoon.

Wah. Parking lot mein bhi attendance lena shuru?

Nandini opens clipboard like a verdict.

Society rules ke hisaab se shaded spot priority use ke liye hai.

Great. Main bhi priority use pe hi hoon.

Aap kaun si priority?

Dhoop se bachne ki.

Nandini steps closer, offended.

Main yahan park karne aayi hoon.

Aur main yahan exist kar rahi hoon. Tough competition.

Nandini points to the spot.

Ye mera scheduled shade hai.

Shade pe appointment? Madam, aap doctor ho ya dictator?

Nandini snaps open a folded paper.

Main notice issue kar sakti hoon.

Please do. School mein bhi free worksheets deti hongi na?

Zoya casually lifts her helmet, wipes sweat.

Ye car spot hai.

Aur ye scooter hai.

Rules sabke liye same hote hain.

Haan. Bas interpretation alag hoti hai.

Nandini places a PARKING CONE in the middle of the shade.

Ab dekhiye.

Zoya slowly circles the cone with her scooter, not touching it.

Madam, aap cones ko bhi emotional support deti ho kya?

This is official.

Aapka clipboard dekh ke lag raha hai aapne illegal authority ka course kiya hai.

Nandini starts writing on the clipboard.

Towing notice.

Date?

Aaj.

Time?

Abhi.

Reason?

Obstruction.

By whom?

By you.

Madam, aapne notice mein “moral failure” bhi likha hai.

Accidentally.

Haan, principal accidentally judgmental hoti hain.

A beat. Both glare.

Zoya leans in, reads the paper.

ZOYA (CONT’D)

Ye signature aapka hai ya school stamp ka emotional support?

Aapko problem kya hai?

Problem? Aapko dhoop se allergy hai aur mujhe attitude se.

Nandini reaches into her giant handbag, pulls out a towel and a plastic box.

Zoya pauses, looks into her scooter compartment, pulls out a similar covered container.

Silence.

...Tum bhi?

...Aap bhi?

They stare.

Is box mein kya hai?

Emergency milk. And blanket.

Mere box mein vet medicine hai.

Kis ke liye?

Security booth ke piche wali cat ke liye.

Same cat.

Tumne bhi dekha?

Main delivery karti hoon, madam. Cat locations mere GPS se zyada accurate hote hain.

Nandini lowers the clipboard.

Main subah se usko shade de rahi hoon.

Main kal se uske liye food la rahi hoon.

Society ko pata chala toh...

Haan. Illegal cat rescue operation.

And hum dono parking spot pe lad rahe the.

Purely for camouflage.

A tiny MEOW from behind the security booth.

Both freeze.

Chup.

Bilkul chup.

Nandini quickly moves the cone aside.

Zoya parks her scooter just enough to block sunlight.

Nandini spreads the towel on the ground.

Zoya opens the box.

Yeh kab se plan tha?

Plan? Madam, yeh improvisation hai. Pure India ka best talent.

Main principal hoon.

Aur main delivery driver.

Toh?

Toh hum dono suspiciously competent hain.

They share a quick laugh, trying not to be loud.

Behind the booth, the CAT’S tiny paw appears.

Bas. Ab koi mat bolna.

Pehli baar, principal madam se main fully agree karti hoon.

They look at each other, then the cat, then the shaded spot.

A beat.

Parking Spot 7... officially rescued.

And unofficially ours.

They both nod, guarding the shade like co-conspirators.