A way of life.

I graduated from a institute with not just a Bachelor's degree but also a living style. I am used to squandering my money on sixty rupee coffee and eighty rupee brownie, on one hundred and twenty rupee mushroom and corn stew and forty five rupee glass of orange juice. My one time (once in a month) spending in a book store is a thousand and two hundred. No. I am not a shopping maniac. I don't spend money on buying my trousers and tees and jeans every now and then. I spend money on "essential commodities". I buy clothes only when I am down to a meager three pairs. Books are essential to me. Oh yes, more essential than daily food. Food in mortal sense is not essential at all. I wonder why this is so, though. However, an occasional splurge on meat and wine is needed. For otherwise, my craving drives me insane and ill-tempered. I moved recently, to a new place. The place is alright. There is this blackened-with-filth ocean shore in the back-yard. The place is close to my work-place. And the rent is modest. The other tenants are alright, too. But just that. Obviously, since none of them graduated from the place I did, they are not very interesting either. It has nothing to do with what institute they graduated from. But I would like to credit my college for the oddities I have acquired. As a result, they don't crave to watch Dark Knight's first show like I do. They don't need to eat in a dingy place where lot of girls and lot of people come. They just need to eat. But I can't be like them.

So I took my bath, wore my best apparel. I put the book, "Dark Alchemy: Magical Tales from Masters of Modern Fantasy", in my bag, checked my wallet and stepped out into cloudy, humid, yet bright Sunday evening. I walked the familiar road towards my office. Around the corner of a public park, a kilometer away from house, there are two coffee-houses. Cafe Coffee Day promised "a lot can happen over a coffee". But I did not want a lot. So I stepped into the other cafe, the Baristas. It was already bustling with humans. I have to mention the species, because lately I read an article that said restaurants in London permit dogs. Not that somethings wrong with that; this place is filled with just humans. How just they are, I know not. I have refrained since long, from judging humans and being clairaudient to their thoughts.

I asked the waiter, 'Is there a seat for one?'. I just wanted to make sure they wont embarrass me saying they don't serve bachelors and singles. But they do. The waiter smiled showing me a table. It was a round table in a corner outside the glass cafe with just one chair. The other chair was either taken away by the large group sitting on the adjacent table or this cafe has tables particularly for bachelors. Either way it did not matter to me. I took out the book and started reading from the page bookmarked by the ribbon. Its a collection of fantasy short fiction. I was reading a particularly enchanting story. Not all stories are as interesting as this. In fact very few are. You stumble up on such stories after reading through a large number of stories. And when you read the story, you feel that crispy, tangy sensation in your tongue, that sharpness in your eyes, that mysticism in your ears, that hair splitting, spine chilling sensation in your heart. There are goosebumps on your arms. In spite of the ranting woman or the shrieking group sitting near by, you become deaf to all the noise except the voice of the persona or the character taking lead.

'Sir? Ahem!'. Darn! Just when a spell is about to take place, that magical world shuts me out, shoving me into the mundane world to attend to the honking bearer, with a pen and a scribbling pad. 'Your order, sir?'. 'Yes'. A quick look at the menu brochure. Names, illustrative pictures and rates. 'A cappuccino and a Devil's Delight, please'. The bearer goes away. But the curse does not leave me so soon. The magical world does not accept me instantly. Too many humans around hampering my concentration.

I tuck the portal key back in.. I meant the book. Then I took out the Reader's Digest. People around relaxed. Think this is the book more appropriate for the ambiance. I started reading an article about how a boy got a chance to sing with the then president Dr. Abdul Kalam. The boy was proud. The boy was happy. The boy states he realised that the quality that unites all great men is humility. Rightly said. It reminded me of how I ended an article for a magazine back at college. I mentioned I learnt three things and one of them was humility. My Coffee and Cake. mmmm.... moist... soft... bitter (in a chocolaty way)... just what I had missed for quite some time now. Eighty bucks is it? Oh. But its worth it. mmmm.. I began brooding. Reminiscing. My way of life. I used to write.
The large group sitting on the adjacent table has 3 boys and 4 girls. One of them is examining a hand-written paper. Some club. May be a handwriting analysis club meeting weekly. Somebody was saying look at those Rs and Ts. Somebody else said, just like writers'. OR may be they are some literary club discussing some author's hand-written work.
I used to draw. I used to read. I used to work with computers. I could cook.
Inside the glass housed cafe, a girl was reading a text-book. Business Law Management! Strange so they come here to do their homework too!
I could stitch. Flowers bloomed happily in the gardens I worked. I knew quite some lessons that would enable me to live my life. I made the right choices every stage of my life. No. Things just happened right. I did not choose. They happened.

A girl happened to stroll by. 'Do you mind if I sit?', she asked pointing her finger gingerly over the table. 'No. Not at all. Only there is no chair and I wont give up mine', I said, quite sober. But she laughed. She turned to the bearer behind her and gestured to put a chair across. Now, the corner I was sitting in is so crowded, the chair will need to be lifted and put across. The chairs there were not plastic and they were not light. So she suggested a boy in the large group to take up the chair the bearer had brought, leaving his to her. That would avoid the need to lift a chair. Nice! She looks for better and efficient means. Unfortunately, her suggestion caused more ruckus than she might have imagined. The boy got confused and you know confusion is contagious. Words were hurled at everybody in the group by everybody else in the group. They asked the bearer to move in now and now they asked him to move out. There was shuffling of chairs. somebody has already made a chair her favourite. The girl stood by the table irritated, probably wondering why she had to suggest what could have been neatly implemented, if only they were a little more intelligent. And while she brooded over her mistake, somebody moaned about spilt iced tea on a chair.

Finally, when she got a chair to sit, she leaned back, looked down under the table and stretched her legs. 'Oh Boy! And to think they are graduates from good schools!'. She hates the inefficient kind. Sweet! I smiled. I should have returned to reading Reader's Digest. Instead I took another bite of the Devil's Delight. It was a delight indeed. She had long black hair, collected in a bun on the crown of her head and then let loose below. She had strange eyes. Were they red? Dark red perhaps. I was never a good observer. Subtle features like the colour of eyes often mentioned in the stories (more like a literary element) always escaped my observation. And yet I could not help be mesmerized by her eyes. But they were subtle. Nobody would have noticed. Nobody but me. She had cherry red lips. No. Not lipstick. There was no gloss. There was no smudge on the glass she just drank water from. On the other hand there was, on mine. No, I don't use lipstick either. But somebody who used the glass before, obviously does. She was serenely dressed. A short white shirt with designer print in black and a orange skirt with flowers printed in green. 'My name is Nevra'. I watched her lips spelling her name. Interesting name, I thought. Her eyes were on me. Looking, perhaps peering inside me. Those deep, deep red eyes. 'Now you tell me yours. That's how it works'. She was smiling. She was not embarrassed. This is perfect. Way too perfect. She is intelligent. She is beautiful. And she knows, I am lost.

'Lost, are we?', came the gentle voice. I smiled. Easily. 'You know', I said.
'What did she talk about this time?', she teased.
'Oh this and that'.
'Yeah?'
'Well, she only finished her introduction'
'Awww..'
She nudged me in my side, while I giggled. 'You know, we should look for something more lofty', I said. 'Hmm', she agreed. She loved watching the fish from where we were perched on. It was a tall pillar in the middle of the sea from which trusses were hanging. A bridge is being worked on. She loved the high places. And I loved listening to the flutter of feathers in her wings... her raven black wings.

I began brooding again. Reminiscing. Musing on the way of life. I have been told by different people. I have been told I am good at different things. Some wanted me to be a academician. Some wanted me to be a painter. Some wanted me to be a writer. I am not trying to brag. I know what skills I possess. I also know how good I am. Which is not so good. I could have become an artist, but that's not my way of life. I could have become a academician, but that's not my way of life either. My life has no "way". There is only a place. One place to be at. Beside Raven, listening to her story. The story of her world, her folk. I rested my head over her shoulders and drifted with her to her world, which became mine. The kingdom ruled by princess Azure and her chevalier Raven! The Enchanted Forest. The valley of fireflies. My world. My home. My way of life. Oh let my epitaph read "..lost in the valley of fireflies..."!

Jade.