I sat at the bar counter, waiting for my drink. Impatiently, yet savouring every minute of the wait. Best things in life are not probably meant to be delivered quickly; they have the right to take their own luxurious time. Once they are attained, the ecstatic emotion that the quest provides is lost. I was totally unaware of happenings around me, partly intoxication, partly the deep, placid state of mind that I manage to arrive at during a few precious instances. The thin crowd, hardly a couple of tables were occupied; added to the mysterious sentiment I was cherishing. The music was pertinent to the situation as well I believe, couldn’t identify the genre, something like a soft trance may be.
I felt a tickle on my fingers, and that was her, hazel eyed with a slight mischievous chuckle, staring out to nowhere, looking deep within to herself. Her brown locks were revolting under the slim hair band, but she seemed to make no effort to keep them off her face. Sitting on the stool next to mine, she was playing with my fingers and trying to keep them crossed.
“Why do you want to keep those fingers crossed?” I asked her.
“That’s how they are meant to be” was the reply.
Never once did she look at my face or stop trying what she was doing. My drink arrived and so did hers. She said “Can we hold a drink with our fingers crossed? Possibly not, because we know the outcome. Cheers!!!”
“Of course we can” blurted out the dim-witted me and performed an idiotic try at holding the glass in a strange manner with crossed fingers.
“You don’t seem to enjoy the drink. You are too much involved with the outer world. “
She looked into my eyes. A strong deep stare, warmly cold and callously sympathetic. I felt a sense of embarrassment and self-pity. There I was, in my own niche of ever revolving thoughts, the eccentric happiness that I weave out of a presumably senile mind, and someone out of nowhere jolts me back to reality, unmistakably encompassing my fort and showing how vulnerable I am to external influences.
I saw her walking to the door; she looked back at me with a compassionate nod, and walked out.
I couldn’t move an inch from my place.
I wanted to stop her, pry her for breaking my crystal cup of glorious thoughts.
I wanted to thank her, worship her for letting me know a cut by the broken cup hurts.
I wanted to be with her.
The fervour, was not carnal, not a hint of it I swear.
Much above the mortal feelings was the intensity with which my heart trembled for her.
Lights started fading away and music seemed distant.
My inner self was playing games with me.
Couldn’t hold on to conscious codes that the world expects its inmates to adhere to.
I wish I could never wake up from this dream, if it was a dream...
I wish it was a dream, since reality had already surpassed the pinnacle of bliss.
I felt a tickle on my fingers, and that was her, hazel eyed with a slight mischievous chuckle, staring out to nowhere, looking deep within to herself. Her brown locks were revolting under the slim hair band, but she seemed to make no effort to keep them off her face. Sitting on the stool next to mine, she was playing with my fingers and trying to keep them crossed.
“Why do you want to keep those fingers crossed?” I asked her.
“That’s how they are meant to be” was the reply.
Never once did she look at my face or stop trying what she was doing. My drink arrived and so did hers. She said “Can we hold a drink with our fingers crossed? Possibly not, because we know the outcome. Cheers!!!”
“Of course we can” blurted out the dim-witted me and performed an idiotic try at holding the glass in a strange manner with crossed fingers.
“You don’t seem to enjoy the drink. You are too much involved with the outer world. “
She looked into my eyes. A strong deep stare, warmly cold and callously sympathetic. I felt a sense of embarrassment and self-pity. There I was, in my own niche of ever revolving thoughts, the eccentric happiness that I weave out of a presumably senile mind, and someone out of nowhere jolts me back to reality, unmistakably encompassing my fort and showing how vulnerable I am to external influences.
I saw her walking to the door; she looked back at me with a compassionate nod, and walked out.
I couldn’t move an inch from my place.
I wanted to stop her, pry her for breaking my crystal cup of glorious thoughts.
I wanted to thank her, worship her for letting me know a cut by the broken cup hurts.
I wanted to be with her.
The fervour, was not carnal, not a hint of it I swear.
Much above the mortal feelings was the intensity with which my heart trembled for her.
Lights started fading away and music seemed distant.
My inner self was playing games with me.
Couldn’t hold on to conscious codes that the world expects its inmates to adhere to.
I wish I could never wake up from this dream, if it was a dream...
I wish it was a dream, since reality had already surpassed the pinnacle of bliss.
