Coffee Chronicles Page 2

  There was no point in arguing, her sharp face was fierce and determined. Nodding, I moved toward the stall and asked for two cups of coffee. In a couple of paper cups, the man filled the steaming coffee and offered me. I began walking carefully, making sure the hot brown liquid wouldn’t burn my fingers.

  My feet froze when Sia told the girl named Alaina to say hi to me.

  “You?” Alaina expressed her shock. She turned out to be the same little girl I had argued with few days back regarding the paper and the dustbin.

  “Hi,” I tried, faking a smile.

  Sia looked at me, then at Aliana. “You know both each other?”

  “Yes.” Alaina rose. The little girl scanned me and then her eyes got glued on the two hot cups of coffee. “Mister, are you…”

  Before things could go wrong, to be more specifically, before Alaina could reveal the past incident, an instinct told me to handle the situation. “Hey, Alaina. Yes, I know what you told me last time. These cups are definitely getting into the dustbin. And you are looking so cute today.” Tried my best to lace my words with honey as much as I could.

  With an unwrapped bar of chocolate in hand, Alaina blinked and gave me a skeptical look.

  Not meeting Alaina’s gaze, I gave one cup to Sia, which she gleefully accepted. “How do you know her?” I asked. “Your relative?”

  Sia blew air in her cup, tendrils of the steam parted. “She stays in my society. Isn’t she cute?”

  Not risking to see the little girl again, I simply replied, “Indeed, she is.”

  “So how did you know her?” Sia shot the query I was scared of.

  “Well,” I said, “it’s hard to resist her innocence.”

  Sia smiled. “You too like kids.”

  I slightly turned my head to see what Alaina was doing. She was busy in munching her chocolate bar. “Yes, always. It’s their….”

  “Eyes,” Sia completed. “Full of innocence. Why doesn’t our eyes shine like that?”

  I pondered for a moment. “May be our worries steals the twinkle from our eyes.”

  For the rest of time we drained our coffee in silence. She looked for the dustbin to dispose her cup, but there was not one around. I extended my arm. “I’ll drop it.”

  “Thanks.” She handed me the cup. “It seems I need to go now. Cya, Alaina.”

  “Bye,” Alaina responded cheerfully. “Thanks for the chocolate.”

  “Anything for you, sweetheart. Rihan, cya.”

  “Cya.”

  Sia took a turn in the opposite alley, just away from the playground, and was out of sight.

  “Your sense of cleanliness is terrible,” Alaina commented. “But your choice of liking is appreciable, I must say.”

  “What are you talking about, girl?”

  Alaina crossed her arms, and craned her neck up to see me. “You like her.”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t.” How did she even know?

  “Come on, I am a girl and I know when a guy likes a girl,” she replied, as if she had read my musings.

  “You are just a kid,” I jeered. “You don’t know anything.”

  “And you are an adult,” she countered, “who doesn’t even know where to put the rubbish.”

  I squatted before her, to match her level. “How do you know?”

  “When will adults grow up?” Alaina said, frustrated. “It’s clear from your face. You look at her like…” she mused for a while, “…like my younger brother looking at the ice-cream man.”

  That was a terrible metaphor, but she was right. “So what am I supposed to do?” I didn’t believe myself that I was seeking advices from the little girl.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Papa always gives gifts to Maa. I think you should gift her something.”

  Why didn’t that idea strike me first? “Thanks.”

  I rose and was about to leave, then halted, and turned. “And what am I supposed to gift her?”

  “You are impossible,” Alaina said. “How would I know that? You are grown up. Figure it out by yourself.”

  I nodded, thanking her.

  I was about to buy the first gift for the first girl of my life.

  Chapter Five

  “I don’t believe you brought me with you to buy a gift for her,” Alaina complained for the hundredth time while we both were checking the market. I tried to think for a gift by myself, and every time I found myself in the bookstore. And there was only one mutual friend between me and Sia. So by bribing Alaina for five chocolates, I asked her to help me to select a gift.

  “I am confused,” I revealed. “There are so many accessories for woman. What am I supposed to buy? Help me now.”

  “You do realize that I am just twelve-year-old,” she said.

  Surprised, I stopped. “Yesterday you were saying that you are a girl and you know things.”

  Alaina giggled innocently. “An adult shouldn’t take a child’s words so seriously.”

  My face dropped, and so my hopes.

  “Don’t be sad, mister,” Alaina cheered me up. “So what accessories of her you always notice?”

  Without any second thought, the name of the accessory leaked involuntarily from my lips.

  “That was quick,” Alaina said. “I am impressed, mister. So what are we waiting for. I know one place. Maa always used to take me there. Come on.”

  And that’s how I selected the first gift for her, which was now resting in my bag, and with every passing moment, I could feel it getting heavier. I cleared my throat to get Sia’s attention. We were back again at Sparkle Café, on our usual corner table. As always, she looked celestial to me.

  “Are you good?” Sia asked first.

  “Yes, good.” I replied, stifling my nervousness. “What happened to me? Nothing.”

  “You…” Sia said, “…seems bit weird today.”

  “I just wanted to ask you something,” I blurted out. I didn’t want to ask anything, I just wanted to give her the gift. But being the first time, I was lacking the courage.

  “Sure.” Sia dropped the spoon after stirring her coffee, then lifted her cup. “Ask.”

  I searched for a question, and asked. “Do you believe in Gods?”

  “I believe in myself.” She took a sip, licked her upper lip with the lower one. “Do you?”

  “I actually believe in Goddess,” I said.

  “Good, and what is her special powers?”

  “Nothing. She just believes in herself.”

  A long moment of silence stretched between us, and I realized I had said something really lame. But when she blushed, it confirmed that she liked it. “For a while I thought that was lame.”

  “No,” she shook her head. “Nothing from you is lame. I am glad that you said it.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Of course.”

  The world outside started to begin dark. “I think I should leave, cya.”

  Like a stone, I sat there, gathering my courage to give her the present. For long moments, I was in dilemma whether I should give it to her or not. Till then, Sia had reached the other side of the market. Sighing, I dashed out of the café and reached her. “Sia?”

  She didn’t get my voice. The traffic noise was too much. “Sia?”

  This time she heard. “Easy, Rihan. What happened?”

  “Nothing.” I pulled the box wrapped with red glittering paper. “I know this is the worst place to present you a gift, amidst the traffic, near the dustbin, but…” I handed her it, finally.

  Sia accepted it gladly. “Shall I open it now?”

  “Sure.”

  With her delicate fingers she cautiously opened the wrap, revealing a little box. Gently, Sia shifted the lid, and gasped in surprise. “This is really beautiful?”

  “Do you like it?” Again I asked a foolish question. It was obvious from her reaction that she liked it.

  “Yes, thanks.”

  She picked one of the silver earrings from the box. “This is really, really, beaut
iful. Thanks again.”

  And all my doubts regarding the gift finally came to an end.

  Chapter Six

  “Why do you kill people?”

  I had not expected our usual meeting after our office hours at Sparkle Café would begin with a grim question. “Sorry. I didn’t get you.”

  “Why do you kill people in your stories? Most of your older blogposts were filled with killings.”

  I drummed my fingers on the table. “I like thrillers, mysteries, to write. Someone has to die in such genres.”

  “Yeah,” Sia said. “I know. Why don’t you try something romantic?”

  My fingers stopped patting the table. “Romantic is…mainstream.”

  “Even killing is,” Sia said dryly. “Every day there is an attack or a natural calamity at some corner of the world. And I really hate when you kill one of your characters.”

  I mentally decided not to begin my next story, whatever that would be, with someone dying. I decided to write something normal. But what?

  The waiter arrived, wearing a smile and gently placed two cups of steaming coffee between us. I picked one of the sugar sachets, tore its edge, and poured the finely powdered sweetness into my cup. I was about to stir the mixture, when Sia asked, “Only one spoon of sugar?”

  “I prefer bitterness,” I replied, resuming the stirring.

  “Yuck!” She imitated her face in disgust as if she had gulped a mosquito accidentally. “How can you even drink that?”

  Feeling philosophical, I said. “Bitterness is the real taste of life.”

  Frowning, Sia picked another sachet and added the sugar into my cup. “Two spoonful of sugar adds sweetness. And sweet, mister writer, should be the taste of life.”

  I looked at her and then at my cup. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because I always add two spoonful of sugar in my cup,” Sia stated plainly.

  I threw my hands in air. “That doesn’t mean everyone like the same. You haven’t added anything in your coffee yet. Let’s exchange.”

  Quickly she picked two sachets together, clenched them between her ivory-white teeth, grinning mischievously she tore them, and emptied into her cup. “Sorry,” she smirked, teasingly. “My cup is too sweet for a bitter-guard like you.”

  “Bitter-guard?”

  She again burst into laughter. Her cheering, happy voice rippled through air, making me too blissful. “Sorry,” she said, between her mirth, “but you like bitter things.”

  Blushing, I scratched my head. “It’s just that my past was bitter.”

  Sia’s face immediately dropped.

  “Sia,” I said. “It was just a joke.”

  Her deepening frown indicated that she caught the truth in my gag. “Rihan, what is your past?”

  Her straightforwardness hit me like a gale, her question like a storm. One after another memory began to flash before my eyes. I shut my eyes, trying hard not to let the mental barrier I created in my mind to crumble, which held my past memories.

  “Rihan,” Sia sounded serious. “Are you okay?”

  Still eyes closed, I nodded.

  “What is your past?”

  Another spear of her question rammed my barrier, and this time the mental wall breached. Suppressed tears began to mount, and before they would leak my eyelashes, I rose on my feet. “Excuse me, I need to use washroom.” Saying that, I dashed toward the washroom, pushed the door in haste, and dropped my arms around the basin, head slumped in regret. Scooping the cold water jetting out from the tap, I splashed it on my face. The rebelled tears mingled with water, fell into the basin.

  “Is everything okay?” Sia’s face was pale with concern.

  “Yes,” I lied, and took my seat.

  “I don’t want to pester you more, Rihan. But something happened with you three years ago. I used to notice your updates, blogposts, everything. But then you suddenly became inactive.”

  “Sia, what are you talking about? And why does it matter to you so much?” I was losing my patience. I didn’t want to disclose my reasons to anyone. They are better buried inside me.

  “It does.” Sia leaned ahead, resting on her elbows. “Because you are different from the rest.”

  “You don’t understand, Sia.”

  “I can.” Sia said, softly. “Hiding the reasons within you won’t make any good to you. You are being eaten by your worries. Every problem comes with a solution.”

  “Sometimes shadows of the past never leaves you alone,” I stated plainly.

  “And what if someone wants to bring light in your life?” Sia prompted.

  Still fidgeting with memories, I replied, “The brightest light casts the darkest shadows.”

  “Why are you so negative, Rihan?”

  I tore my gaze from her and gaped at the setting sun through the glass door. Darkness began to invade the sky, and a tight knot began to form in my chest. “What you see me today is the result of the decision I took three years ago. I quitted dreaming, Sia. I quitted writing.”

  A silent moment prolonged.

  “What happened?” Sia broke the silence.

  Sighing heavily, with downcast eyes, I revealed. “Life happened.”

  The hanging lamps over our heads blazed, showering light upon us. Her face, which once was radiant, now was riddled with anxiety. “There was a time,” I said, “when I thought I could achieve my dream. There was a time when I was really getting good at words. My stories were unique then the rest, and that attracted attention of others, of yours. People started writing because of me, tagging me in their post, that they were getting inspired.”

  “You didn’t like that?” Sia was surprised. “If someone was getting inspired of me I would be the happiest person in the world.”

  You are an inspiration, I repeated the thought mentally.

  “What was the problem?”

  I prepared myself to speak. “I failed to manage myself. The office hours drained my whole energy, and the night was tiresome. I tried, but couldn’t continue. Frustrated, I killed my dream. I stopped writing and suddenly for the people I was a ray of hope, I became nothing. And for that reason, I was inactive.”

  “I don’t believe this,” Sia gasped, her hands shrouding on her mouth.

  “It happened.”

  “But I am not getting this,” Sia shook her head, wondering. “Then what were you doing with your laptop when we first met?”

  “Restarting to write,” I admitted.

  Her corner of lips twitched. “And what made you do that?”

  I looked into her enticing eyes, and said. “Sometimes all you need is a cup of coffee with the right person. I didn’t say it to you, but it all revived because of you. You are an inspiration, Sia. Thanks. The chapter of my life I closed after my graduation, your arrival reopened it.”

  Sia opened her mouth, her lips clapped, but no words were produced. She took a deep breath. “I understand, Rihan. But you need to understand, there are people who always wait to read your works. And I am among them. So mister writer, I demand you to write a story.”

  She stood up, our eyes never losing the contact, and smiled at me. “Will you?”

  I nodded, beaming.

  “But there is one condition.”

  I was taken back. “And that is?”

  “You aren’t going to kill anyone in the story.”

  “Agreed. But I don’t have any ideas right now.”

  “You will find one, you always have. And thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “For considering me as an inspiration. Cya.”

  You aren’t just an inspiration, I thought.

  Chapter Seven

  “Sia?”

  “Yes?”

  We were sitting on the playground’s bench. I already bought two cups of coffee, which sat between us, separating both yet connecting us. Evening mist had started curling over the ground, the hot wisps of our beverages were struggling for its existence. “I need to tell you something.”

  �
��Why am I feeling that you are going to blast something shocking to me?”

  I laughed. It somehow eased myself. “Before we met, I hated this city. I never knew you were in the same city.”

  “But I always knew, and have been noticing you. But you never noticed me, Rihan. Every evening you used to drop out from that bus and used to go directly to your room. The guy I remember during our college days used to notice every little details, but you didn’t even see me when I followed you in the bookstore.”

  Memory of the day I visited the bookstore instantly clicked me. Someone had entered behind me. “I’m sorry.”

  “But I am glad that the Sparkle Café became an excuse for me to meet you. I am well aware that Americano is one form of Espresso, but just to get your attention I created that fiasco at the counter.”

  I slumped my head in guilt. “Forgive me, Sia. At that moment, I was…”

  “Shut up!” Sia said authoritatively. “I am not yet done. Do you even know that when your eyes weren’t meeting mine, I used to watch you, hoping that someday you would say something really good to me? You did once, and then you ruined the mood saying that it was lame. It wasn’t lame! And then you gifted me earrings. But from last one week, you seemed to be in another world. You meet me, chat a bit, and leave early. What’s going on?” Sia’s tone touched another level.

  “That’s what I need to….”

  “Just shut up!” Sia again fired. “Don’t you get any hints? You are such an idiot!”

  “Now will you please listen to me?” I said.

  “Speak.”

  Taking a long breath, I took out a parcel from my bag and offered it to her.

  “Another gift? I don’t want you to waste your money on me.”

  “Just, open it,” I probed.

  She tore the golden glittering paper of the wrap, and pulled out a hardback book. Labelled on it was the title of the book – Coffee Chronicles, and in bottom was written - a very special edition. She smiled, and opened the cover. As she leafed through the book, before each chapter she found one of her most beautiful pictures. “Thank you so much!”

  I was trying hard not to smile like a mad person. I had been working on the story for a week, made two hardcopies at local printing house, just to make her moment special. “Honestly, my mind was vacant, so I wrote about ourselves in the book.”

  “Thanks!”

  I beamed. “There is one more surprise.” I dragged out another copy of - a very special edition – of Coffee Chronicles. “Will you make my copy a really special one by signing it?”