I sat by the gate that allowed people into the coffee shop. The sea served me a smell I always cherished and the Sun as usual was in no mood to play hide and seek with the clouds and the waves that rippled onto the shore. The clouds tried their best to hide the Sun. But the Sun, being an inherent loser, stretched a ray here and there out of the clouds and let the waves know where it stood.
The waves then smiled as they realized how sweet the Sun was to lose this game to them. And as they spoke, a pretty little orange interspersed with flecks of gold rippled their way into their laughter.
As a pretty little set of waves finished orchestrating this spectacle, I got my gaze to distract itself with a creak that came from the gate. The gate, now all happy that I was looking at it, got its hinges to say hello rather noisily as a couple walked in.
Usually, couples alongside this seaside are pretty bright with cheer and too too happy to be silent. And since this particular one was rather too too silent, I knew something was amiss. So, I pretended to look straight into the sea right where the horizon let the Sun rest. And since they thought me to be one lost soul to look into the horizon, they came and sat at a table next to mine.
My ears were delighted and so, they tuned in to what they were about to say.
The girl was quite stoic - composed and very much in control. Somehow, she gave the impression that not even a sex scandal would shock her. And yet, she was dressed in one of those holy innocent salwar kameezes.
The boy, on the other hand, was a million miles away from being in control. He fidgeted with his watch, then snapped open and shut his phone, and wore a look that reeked of pain.
"The usual?" He asked her after a full minute silence.
"I think so." So he ordered the usual - one chocolate fantasy and a coffee.
"By the way," he said, taking out a book, "This is yours."
"Keep it."
"No I don't want it. What will I do with that? I don't even want to read it."
"Okay."
And they fell back in their chairs for another minute in silence.
"So, this book? you're giving it back to me."
"Well, I gave you a lot. But not even once did you turn and give me some."
"I don't turn to give. I just give."
"But even that did not happen."
"Well, it did. Just that it did not happen the way you wanted it."
"So it always has to be your way!"
"I am not saying that. All I am saying is that it did not happen your way."
"I should have known. With you it's always your way or my way. There was never our way.""I am sorry, but I am not created that way."
"You think I was? No, but I made an effort. And boy, I did succeed in that."
"What effort are you talking about?"
"You think it was easy spilling my guts out to you? Talking about my dirty family secrets to you? But it felt nice telling you all of it. All because I felt close to you. But not even once have you let down your guard and spilled your spit!"
"You are already getting bitter."
"Well, at least I am bitter. What about you? Do you even feel anything?"
The girl shifted her gaze from the gate to him. She looked at him as if she wanted to cry. But, instead, she threw that look away and stared at him dispassionately.
"No, I do not," she said.
I let my hand steal the cup on my table and let it throw some coffee into my mouth. I must say I was shocked, which is why my hand became such a thief. Or else, I always wait till the coffee is ice cold.
"You do not?!", he asked for he knew not what else to ask her, "Are you even human?"
"Look I think I am better off preserving myself this way."
"At what cost? Tell me! At what cost? You will not let anyone near you. You lament you feel empty. And yet you will not even accept another's offer to help you."
"I don't need any help. I am fine helping myself, really."
"Okay, have it your way then."
She was again in control of herself - not even the slightest shiver escaped her and not even a shudder of grief shadowed her. The way she sat there as he spoke - virtually on the brink of tears - was akin to a wall indifferent to the nightingale singing it a heart-rending melody.
"See," she said, "I really cannot give you what you want. I tried, honestly, but I can't. And I guess it's best this way."
"Okay."
"Will you be able to deal with this?"
"Okay."
"Okay."
And in one split second, the boy opened his being to a mournful fit of crying.
The cafe - at least the place where we were - was nearly lifeless. Not a soul was around, barring the waiters who were anyway busy. And so, his cries stung like a cry of a woman just widowed.
"How could you not let me help you? He sobbed, How could you? I loved you so much you know. I still do. Couldn't you see that?"
She looked away.
"Everytime I thought you'll let me into those places you dare not go alone. And I was willing to be at your side.Yet, not even once did you allow me there. Not even once!"
This time, something extraordinary happened. She shifted her chair close to his and asked: "Can I put my arm around you?"
"Only if you let me put my head on your shoulder."
"Sure." And then, his sobs melted into a soul-ripping spasms of tears.
I could not bear to not notice this. If I didn't, I would have labelled myself heartless. So, I led my eyes gently to the boy and then to the girl, smiled and nodded as if to say I understand. Of course, they did not look at me, but I think the warmth of my gaze they did note.
Presently, the boy recovered and sat up straight. And the girl shifted back to where she was - a little shaken, but still a pillar of composure.
"You know, that day, when we..." and his eyes welled up. So he paused and then continued: "I cried so much you know. That headache will just not go. "
"Perhaps, it will in sometime."
"Okay."
"Did you?"
"What?"
"Did you cry?"
"No," she said, a little agitated by that question, "I didn't."
"Why?"
"I don't feel like."
"Okay, why don't you read me the letter then that you sent me?"
"I cannot, really. Please don't ask me to do that."
"Why ever?"
"Because I cannot."
"Okay."
The order arrived. And they sat again in silence. I sat too, but was in no mood to listen in. I paid my bill and walked down to the shore.
I thought of the time I had on hand. And the reason why I had so much time. Partly, it's because I wrap up work as fast as I can. I hate to sit at my desk and make love to desktop PCs.
Another reason is I love to have time on hand so that I can complain. After all, if I didn't, half the complaints made to my dearest family will be non-existent: Sister Dearest will have lived a life of peace and calm. And Mother Dearest would not have to remind me about the tenets of life all the time from 6:30 to the time I hit the bed.
As I thought of another excuse to let time stay on with me, I coaxed my pace to slow down and so nearly came to a standstill along the shore. The sand had clung to me as if I was their only hope and the waves strengthened their bond with my toes. However, my toes felt not the need to nurture this relationship and so, shook it all away.
My head knocked at my realization then and I discovered that I also hate to tie myself down to anything. I hate to keep a life that wants my thoughts. I resent the manner in which people vie with each other to keep me within their radar of attention, and I irritate a person away lest they start to delve into my soul. Not that I regret it, but it just gives me an excuse to justify the sheer amount of time I date vacant empty rooms with nothing to do.
Like clockwork precision thereafter, a fear of an unusual kind struck my rib cage and made me feel guilty. But I was not in the mood to let it in. So, I told my eyes to look for the couple yet again. A minute later, I spotted them - the distance between them twice the one that was as they walked into the cafe.
From where I stood, it looked as if she was in search of a rickshaw. And he was in search of an excuse to keep her for a little longer than what he had already asked for. But the girl knew how that would end and so, gently but firmly, insisted on hailing a rickshaw. They hailed one and the driver of that dilapidated vehicle stopped it right next to me.
She got in and the boy decided he had better leave her alone.
"I will miss you," she said, as she looked into her purse for change.
He let his tears tell her he will, too.
"Take care," he said, finally.
"Okay. I I.. "
"Yes?"
"I just wanted to say thank you."
"Okay."
"For everything."
"Okay. I cannot say welcome for you will not come back."
She smiled. The rickshaw driver whipped the engine into a frenzy, but the boy lingered on.
"You know why you cannot read that letter to me?"
"Why?"
"Because I know if you do, you'll cry too."
The boy then left her and walked away with his tears onto the shore. And as the rick ran away from him, I saw in her, for the very first time, the urge to control what her eyes were nearly about to spill.
A ray spilled out of the clouds. And my fear was gone.
As I had observed before, I really have a nice excuse to have time on hand.
The waves then smiled as they realized how sweet the Sun was to lose this game to them. And as they spoke, a pretty little orange interspersed with flecks of gold rippled their way into their laughter.
As a pretty little set of waves finished orchestrating this spectacle, I got my gaze to distract itself with a creak that came from the gate. The gate, now all happy that I was looking at it, got its hinges to say hello rather noisily as a couple walked in.
Usually, couples alongside this seaside are pretty bright with cheer and too too happy to be silent. And since this particular one was rather too too silent, I knew something was amiss. So, I pretended to look straight into the sea right where the horizon let the Sun rest. And since they thought me to be one lost soul to look into the horizon, they came and sat at a table next to mine.
My ears were delighted and so, they tuned in to what they were about to say.
The girl was quite stoic - composed and very much in control. Somehow, she gave the impression that not even a sex scandal would shock her. And yet, she was dressed in one of those holy innocent salwar kameezes.
The boy, on the other hand, was a million miles away from being in control. He fidgeted with his watch, then snapped open and shut his phone, and wore a look that reeked of pain.
"The usual?" He asked her after a full minute silence.
"I think so." So he ordered the usual - one chocolate fantasy and a coffee.
"By the way," he said, taking out a book, "This is yours."
"Keep it."
"No I don't want it. What will I do with that? I don't even want to read it."
"Okay."
And they fell back in their chairs for another minute in silence.
"So, this book? you're giving it back to me."
"Well, I gave you a lot. But not even once did you turn and give me some."
"I don't turn to give. I just give."
"But even that did not happen."
"Well, it did. Just that it did not happen the way you wanted it."
"So it always has to be your way!"
"I am not saying that. All I am saying is that it did not happen your way."
"I should have known. With you it's always your way or my way. There was never our way.""I am sorry, but I am not created that way."
"You think I was? No, but I made an effort. And boy, I did succeed in that."
"What effort are you talking about?"
"You think it was easy spilling my guts out to you? Talking about my dirty family secrets to you? But it felt nice telling you all of it. All because I felt close to you. But not even once have you let down your guard and spilled your spit!"
"You are already getting bitter."
"Well, at least I am bitter. What about you? Do you even feel anything?"
The girl shifted her gaze from the gate to him. She looked at him as if she wanted to cry. But, instead, she threw that look away and stared at him dispassionately.
"No, I do not," she said.
I let my hand steal the cup on my table and let it throw some coffee into my mouth. I must say I was shocked, which is why my hand became such a thief. Or else, I always wait till the coffee is ice cold.
"You do not?!", he asked for he knew not what else to ask her, "Are you even human?"
"Look I think I am better off preserving myself this way."
"At what cost? Tell me! At what cost? You will not let anyone near you. You lament you feel empty. And yet you will not even accept another's offer to help you."
"I don't need any help. I am fine helping myself, really."
"Okay, have it your way then."
She was again in control of herself - not even the slightest shiver escaped her and not even a shudder of grief shadowed her. The way she sat there as he spoke - virtually on the brink of tears - was akin to a wall indifferent to the nightingale singing it a heart-rending melody.
"See," she said, "I really cannot give you what you want. I tried, honestly, but I can't. And I guess it's best this way."
"Okay."
"Will you be able to deal with this?"
"Okay."
"Okay."
And in one split second, the boy opened his being to a mournful fit of crying.
The cafe - at least the place where we were - was nearly lifeless. Not a soul was around, barring the waiters who were anyway busy. And so, his cries stung like a cry of a woman just widowed.
"How could you not let me help you? He sobbed, How could you? I loved you so much you know. I still do. Couldn't you see that?"
She looked away.
"Everytime I thought you'll let me into those places you dare not go alone. And I was willing to be at your side.Yet, not even once did you allow me there. Not even once!"
This time, something extraordinary happened. She shifted her chair close to his and asked: "Can I put my arm around you?"
"Only if you let me put my head on your shoulder."
"Sure." And then, his sobs melted into a soul-ripping spasms of tears.
I could not bear to not notice this. If I didn't, I would have labelled myself heartless. So, I led my eyes gently to the boy and then to the girl, smiled and nodded as if to say I understand. Of course, they did not look at me, but I think the warmth of my gaze they did note.
Presently, the boy recovered and sat up straight. And the girl shifted back to where she was - a little shaken, but still a pillar of composure.
"You know, that day, when we..." and his eyes welled up. So he paused and then continued: "I cried so much you know. That headache will just not go. "
"Perhaps, it will in sometime."
"Okay."
"Did you?"
"What?"
"Did you cry?"
"No," she said, a little agitated by that question, "I didn't."
"Why?"
"I don't feel like."
"Okay, why don't you read me the letter then that you sent me?"
"I cannot, really. Please don't ask me to do that."
"Why ever?"
"Because I cannot."
"Okay."
The order arrived. And they sat again in silence. I sat too, but was in no mood to listen in. I paid my bill and walked down to the shore.
I thought of the time I had on hand. And the reason why I had so much time. Partly, it's because I wrap up work as fast as I can. I hate to sit at my desk and make love to desktop PCs.
Another reason is I love to have time on hand so that I can complain. After all, if I didn't, half the complaints made to my dearest family will be non-existent: Sister Dearest will have lived a life of peace and calm. And Mother Dearest would not have to remind me about the tenets of life all the time from 6:30 to the time I hit the bed.
As I thought of another excuse to let time stay on with me, I coaxed my pace to slow down and so nearly came to a standstill along the shore. The sand had clung to me as if I was their only hope and the waves strengthened their bond with my toes. However, my toes felt not the need to nurture this relationship and so, shook it all away.
My head knocked at my realization then and I discovered that I also hate to tie myself down to anything. I hate to keep a life that wants my thoughts. I resent the manner in which people vie with each other to keep me within their radar of attention, and I irritate a person away lest they start to delve into my soul. Not that I regret it, but it just gives me an excuse to justify the sheer amount of time I date vacant empty rooms with nothing to do.
Like clockwork precision thereafter, a fear of an unusual kind struck my rib cage and made me feel guilty. But I was not in the mood to let it in. So, I told my eyes to look for the couple yet again. A minute later, I spotted them - the distance between them twice the one that was as they walked into the cafe.
From where I stood, it looked as if she was in search of a rickshaw. And he was in search of an excuse to keep her for a little longer than what he had already asked for. But the girl knew how that would end and so, gently but firmly, insisted on hailing a rickshaw. They hailed one and the driver of that dilapidated vehicle stopped it right next to me.
She got in and the boy decided he had better leave her alone.
"I will miss you," she said, as she looked into her purse for change.
He let his tears tell her he will, too.
"Take care," he said, finally.
"Okay. I I.. "
"Yes?"
"I just wanted to say thank you."
"Okay."
"For everything."
"Okay. I cannot say welcome for you will not come back."
She smiled. The rickshaw driver whipped the engine into a frenzy, but the boy lingered on.
"You know why you cannot read that letter to me?"
"Why?"
"Because I know if you do, you'll cry too."
The boy then left her and walked away with his tears onto the shore. And as the rick ran away from him, I saw in her, for the very first time, the urge to control what her eyes were nearly about to spill.
A ray spilled out of the clouds. And my fear was gone.
As I had observed before, I really have a nice excuse to have time on hand.
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