The cafe girl
He could hear the rain outside beating hard on sheets of wide mercury glass within an aluminum frame. He slowly rose from his chair and looked through the window. Dust rose by continuous movement of vehicle was now settled, drainage filled with all sorts of wastes was now overflowing, dust that were powdered on remaining few leaves of an old and frail looking tree like an abandoned old man and walls of building were somewhat washed but leaving behind odd stains, pedestrians were hastily moving around for safe haven because of sudden downpour. A sudden crank of the glass door distracted him, which made him go back his chair.
The café was of an average size with few sets of chairs and tables arranged in two rows neatly. On the left hand-side, a picture was hung made up of black marble stone and porcelain somewhat of Chinese traditional art. The color of walls was sky blue with wooden walling of somewhat three feet height from the floor and was creamy in color matching with that of furniture around. Just behind the counter was kitchen where he could hear irregular sound of kitchen staffs and continuous sound of stoves and rattling of utensils. Just to the front and below, the place where food taken out of kitchen for service was rack filled with saucers, crockery…. arranged in systematic way. Right at the left corner of the room a 14” Panasonic television was making noise on its own like an insane with nobodies’ real attention.
The girl just in the left corner of the room was alone smoking with a glass of hot lemon taking a sip after regular short interval as if it was giving a taste of best tawny wine. He could just view her back, her hair loose, smoke puffing out sometimes like a cloud being pushed by sudden wind, sometimes rings of smoke flew in irregular line and sometime just letting it drift in natural way as if she was unleashing her hard-pressed feelings along with the smoke.
He turned-off the television and played the music, which was a fusion of western grunge and eastern classical music by Eddie Vedder and Nusrat Fatteh Ali khan. He deals with other customer for a while and again his mind was attracted towards the same girl again as if he could sense something uncommon in her than others. This time he could see her earlobes like that of deer so active and melting at the same time as if she could feel the sense of the music deep, pleasant, heart touching, calming… She again made a certain move crushing cigarette butt in ashtray, rose from the seat, let her creamy colored bag slung on her shoulder, then she advanced towards the counter with a lazy but sensual steps hardly letting her feet rise from floor beneath as though she was dragging her feet rather than walking, making a hissing and sometimes screechy sound with her every steps. Now he could feel thickness in his throat, stiffness in his nerves, emotions being nervous, hands now quivering, and hasty run of blood through his nerves… more she was nearer more he could feel these feelings getting harder and harder.
“Whose song is this?” she asked standing before the counter giving a slight smile attracting more and giving a sense of innocence in her.
“Oh! It’s a song by Nusrat Fatteh Ali khan and Eddie Vedder” he gushed, though she seems concerned only about the title of the song he was trying to elaborate about the whole history of the song as how?, when?, who?, etc. Maybe he was just trying to extend the span of conversation and depict his talency about art with her, but he did not know what he was really talking about and his fluent tongue was now frozen as that of ice in deep fridge.
“I can make a copy for you if you want?” He hastily groped underneath the counter, came out with a RW (Read and Write) CD (Compact Disc), and made a copy of a song for her without waiting or getting any real consent from her and handed over her.
“Thank you.” She said fumbling in her pant’s pocket, maybe trying to get some money. Before she was with any money in her hand, he declined her offer of payment for the copied CD with a kind of anxiety and excitement saying, ”It’s ok, you are the first one to understand and love this music since I have played it in this café”
She once again thanked him with a smile of an appreciation and surprise look on her face. Then she vanished behind the glass door in thin air waving her little fingers in air as if she will be back again soon.
He was then in a deep thought in himself and asked number of questions to himself. “Oh! Why didn’t I ask her name?, What must have been her name?”. “Must have been a beautiful name,” he answered himself, “where must have been her home.
He closed the café before time today and walked back home with a kind of excitement but not complete. When he arrived home today he did not played around with any books and television. He just threw his body bare on his bed like a corpse with only his mind working. Images of her came sometimes like Tsunami and sometimes like a calm rain of snowflakes. His mind visualized her small eyes set in her round looking face beautifully blended with a childish quality. Her enigmatic smile came in his mind like the full moon, bright and dazzling in clear dark night dominating the smile of Mona Lisa that he admired so much before his meeting with her. Strings of silky hair that was willowing in her forehead like wave in seas with the air from fan, gave him a sense of equanimity and ecstasy. All of a sudden, a knock like thunder along with voice like roar of tiger demolished his whole dream world. It was his sister calling for dinner.
In a meanwhile they gathered round the dining table, the atmosphere was quiet, everyone concentrating on there food, but his mind was not quiet. Only sound he could hear was the clattering of spoon and fork sometimes. However, taste of food that he was eating could do no nothing before her innocent, emotional, caressing looking face that played in his mind like bubbles in electric kettle of boiling water near by him. Now he realized that he was in love with her. He tried to reason out whether it was infatuation or love, since it was his first time meeting her. However, he could not do so and convinced himself by saying, ”There is no reason for love because no one has been able to give the real definition of love and it must have been an unending game.”
It was next day he locked himself within the boundary of his café, waiting for her arrival anxiously and stoked. He kept on questioning himself “How should I approach her?” He rehearsed on his own silently talking to self created image of her, he consoled and made judgments about his own fate saying to himself “She will be back I know because she was the first one to touch me harder than anyone else” but in the meantime he doubted himself “I can’t make any prophecy” again consoled himself saying “She will be back.”…. He kept on questioning himself and remained awaited for her arrival, but now slowly he could see golden sun peeping from behind the lush green hills to the west as if it is waving good-bye, darkness slowly was casting the blue sky like the black ink that was spilled over white sheet of cloth spreading and engulfing its whiteness, Birds were high in sky in echelon back to there shelter, lights like stars turned on one by one but still his eyes weren’t tired looking for her way back to the café. He realized at that very moment how difficult and unstable would human mind be when they have to wait for someone whom they love so much. Now the darkness was completely over the sky except for the moon and the stars shining bright. However, he still thought of not giving up and waits her the next day. He consoled himself thinking, “God might have been taking a test with him”. He was atheist before and theist now.
The next day came and went in same manner, again the next day, then the month, again the month, the year but she never came back, but could he loose neither her image nor the love he felt at that very moment when he first saw her. He passed through summer, spring, autumn and winter watching the same old tree sometimes lush green in spring like juvenile young boy and sometimes bare naked and frail in autumn, the sheets of window glasses of café now doesn’t seem to be looking but staring like the cat’s eye in darkness and searching for her amongst the ocean of scurrying people.
Now for the first time he asked himself a reasonable questions, “Why did I meet her?, why did I love her?, Why the love went so deep?, Why it hurts so much when we love someone?...” Different people had different stories about her sudden disappearing.
Milan Gurung (Freeman)
