LOVE IN A TAVERN

           I seldom dream of heaven. The earth is my habitat.  If at all, I dream of a better earth peopled by better human beings, in a better civilization .

 

·        Good conversation is my other dream. This is a rare commodity these days. We don`t converse any more, we merely make sounds, not to express a unique idea or delicate feelings but to assert our brazen selves, more biological than mental.

 

·    I was ambling towards my favorite bookstall with these thoughts playing in my mind when a drizzle started unannounced. Fortunately, there was a door to my left with a glow sign. It was a bar. Through dim light and soft music I forged my way somehow to an empty seat and placed my order for fried fish and chips with a double Bacardi. This was my first visit to a bar, for I preferred to drink at home, either by myself or in choice company. So I was curious. It was hard to make out the features of the occupants in the dusky interior, yes, but their postures were enough to indicate that they had let down their guards. I prepared myself to play the role of a voyeur watching people through a chink in their guard with the holy purpose of sharpening my insight into human character.

 

·         After taking the first two quick sips, I closed my eyes to give myself up to the stirrings of music for the violin was playing some good Mozart. A few seconds later, as I reopened them I found to my chagrin an apparition seated with careless ease opposite me., a darkish fellow, a bit stout but athletic in bearing.

 

·        “A treble Royal Challenge”, he barked.

 

·       He must be a frequenter, I thought as the waiter brought his order promptly with a porcelain smile on his usually poker face.

 

·          _“Wine and women—these are my two addictions”, the stranger came out blatantly.

 

Gosh! What a way to start a conversation with a stranger. Fortifying myself with another sip I ventured softly,

 

           _“Are they of equal importance?”

 

·          _“Women and wine – in that order”, the stranger readily replied and winked.

 

            _“What about you dada ?”

 

·     Somehow he did not seem to be just any humdrum footloose drinker. So, intrigued, I put in,

 

             _“Oh, I am fond of both, but I keep my distance.”

 

·          _ “How come? I don`t get you.”

 

·          _ “I drink in moderation. And as to women, it pains me to see them displeased.”

 

·            “ You mean, with your company?” He gave a hearty laugh—“You may not be a lady-killer, but you surely don`t look a grumpy cad ! How old are you if you don`t mind ?”

 

·            _“Mid-forties.”

 

·             _“I see. I am thirty nine…. Married?”

 

·           _ “No, are you ?”

 

·             _“Not yet, but going to be in a short while.”

 

·             _“Is it Cupid’s doing?”

 

·             _“Who is he?”

 

·           _ “Oh, he is the western counterpart of our very own Madan Dev.”

 

·             _“Well, Madan is my head mason. I am in the real estate you see.”

 

·    Of course I saw. Inwardly smiling I kept mum as I accepted his gracious offer of another drink.

 

·               _“She is the famous actress Jhumki Sur”, he blurted out.

 

·               _“Congrats!…”  And I quietly sipped. I had never heard of any Jhumki Sur in my life. Not that I was a film freak.

 

·          _ “I met her at a party and we fell for each other in a trice”, my companion   volunteered with satisfaction.

 

·           _ “That means you are pierced by the Cupid shaft anyway. You are in love.”

 

·           _ “Well, I don`t know much about these romantic feelings or what you call them but she hits my solar plexus all right.”

 

·       A bit unsettled, I asked,

 

                _“What does she say?”

 

·              _ “She says her libido is aflame whenever she thinks of me.”

 

·     Absolutely floored by this extraordinarily frank if not bizarre revelation I accepted more drinks with an assurance from my fellow drinker that he was to see me home if I happened to forget it. He wrote down my address, and reassured me that he never passed out.

 

·       The music was floating around with an ever so gentle melody. It changed its pitch and gradually rose to a grand harmony. My vision blurred, I felt my companion gently leading me out.

 

            It was a glorious day outside and we drove to a magnificent garden full of unknown trees. Tall and majestic, they seemed to reach out to a vast treasure trove of memories innocent of the touch of time and place. Hillocks were all around, of exquisite shapes. Daylight filtering through the great green canopies bathed everything with a kind of fall color. I turned to my companion and found him subtly changed. He was now very dark, a glossy ebony dark which had a charm of its own, with a mop of close-cropped hair. In a voice hoarse with emotion he said,

 

             _“You were talking of love and Cupid , weren`t you? I can show you love in a handful of   dust…..

 

With this he opened his fist and I saw indescribably beautiful and innocent eyes staring at me before they were crushed to drops of blood, dripping slowly out of the black deformed fingers of my companion.

 

      _“We hate you more than we pity you”, I said in disgust.

 

        _“All Othellos be damned for their infernal impatience and cruelty!” As I said it I noticed in amazement a Bengali athlete gently emerging from behind him with firm steps. He looked like a colonel, hiding his six pack abs beneath a white shawl. A stately presence full of grace and humility. I could instinctively recognize him.

 

   _ “You and I belong to the same profession”, he addressed Othello, “but, while you killed obvious innocence, I killed myself for the ambiguity and complexity that love is.”

 

     _ “You Pratap, are after all a fool not to embrace love that offered itself to you!”, Othello groaned, “a fool of a different order, but a fool all right!”

 

It left me musing. Do I admire Pratap for his ultimate self- sacrifice? Oh no, he was a sentimental fool. But I could assess him at this point of time when I was forty five. What would that moist-eyed nineteen-year-old say after poring over Chandrashekhar? I saw the nineteen year old myself wiping my eyes and hiding it from my mother. “Oh Ma, its nothing, just some particle falling into my eyes.”

 

While Pratap was obviously casting about for a suitable answer, I saw a shadow trying to take a form. Pratap said wistfully,

 

             _ “You don`t understand Othello, I was offered not love but death, twice, at the beginning and at the end of our affair, if you correctly remember the text. Didn`t Shaibalini make it clear that she would have no peace as long as I was alive?”

 

             _“That`s why this gentleman calls you a fool!”, I heard a female voice.

 

Turning on my heels I saw the loveliest woman in the world removing her veil with disgust.        

 

  _“Enough is enough!”, she added venomously, “henceforth I am going to shed my veil. Let all the Fosters in the world and Prataps of all description have their eyeful of Shaibalini. Pratap you never understood that I wanted a full life and that I wanted you, if not as a husband, at least as a paramour. This is what I wanted to convey to you through all my actions. A fool that you are , you chose to misunderstand me!”

 

            _“Yes I did Shibu, please don`t take it amiss, but I fled from you intentionally. How can I handle a fiery creature such as you!”

 

            Shaibalini glared at him and retorted,

 

            _“I guessed it all along. At last the cat is out of the bag. I don`t know whether marriage is  any longer in practice, but you are free to take another fool, a perfect Sati for your partner, I…mean…Desdemona. Hey Dessy, please align your ectoplasms in correct order, hurry please, I have somebody here as honest as you.”

 

            After these words or incantations whatever they were, I saw the most beautiful Italian Madonna taking shape from the misty shadow so long struggling to take a form before us. She looked at all of us yet at nobody in particular and whispered,

 

       _ “I have learnt whatever I was to learn from my earthly experience, since I was muffled to death”, she stood towering above us and added,

 

         _ “I don`t desire anybody any more. Elements I am, and to elements I return. “ She vanished slowly, limb by limb, feature by feature, until there was but a faint halo left.

 

        So! I turned to the others and spoke out in my most authoritative tone,

 

        _“Tarry a little Shaibalini! Do you by any chance fancy Othello? Look at him He is as manly and as comely as your Pratap, only a few shades darker, but he is far more handsome than Barack Obama. No woman other than you, I think, will suit him better, somebody sexy enough to keep him in thrall, agile enough to slip away during his killing fits, wily enough to play hide and seek with all Iagos and all Cassios.”

But the lady smiled a mysterious smile and mouthed a couplet….

 

  _ “Women may come and women may go, but Othellos go on forever.

 

      Shaibalinis give you but a single chance, they seek nobody`s favour.”

                             

    And she vanished into thin air.

 

I looked bleary-eyed at Othello bending over me. He was trying to lift me with a jerk.

 

            _“Hey Pratapda, they are closing up, Let me take you home. Don`t worry, I remember your address perfectly.”

 

            _“I too remember your address”—I chuckled. “It is Cyprus, Italy.”

 

             _“Why are you mumbling ? Be your age dada . a couple of extra pegs and you are  thrashing about like a rag doll ?”

 

             _“You are going to have a Shaibalini anyway” I chuckled again to myself, may be a lesser one yet greater in a sense for Jhumki must be the real twenty first century version, who must have evolved further.”