A Story Between Beers

I was having beer. This was third, and I felt smoking. A live band was performing in main section of the bar. George Michaels’s ‘Last Christmas’ was filling the alcoholic air in a local accent and people all over wearing cheap Christmas caps were like in trance. I got up and walked towards the smoking section. I was in Trincas, a nostalgic bar in Park Street in Kolkata. The smoking room was nothing but a small glass cube filled with smoke. I entered with shaky moves and sat on a chair layered with ashes. ‘Last Christmas’ by then was replaced by ‘Brazil’ of Venga Boys. I closed my eyes. It felt awesome. Thousands of colourful bubbles were floating all over my mind.

Didn’t know how long I was there, I came to sense to an angelic voice. ‘Do you have match sticks’? I looked up. A shady image. She was tall. Too tall. Her left hand held a cigarette between index and middle fingers and she had a beautiful face with long open hair.

‘Sorry, I don’t have any’? I managed, nodding my giddy head.

‘Then may I take your cigarette for a while and fire up mine’?

She exhaled a long smoke and sat beside me. She wore a graceful black leather jacket with a blue denim jeans. Her high leather boots were crisscrossed and she smiled.

‘Merry Christmas’.

 ‘Merry Christmas ma’am’. I bowed a little with the cigarette end still in my fingers.

‘Do you come here often?’

‘I used to come here often. But not now.’

‘Why? Oh you must be settled somewhere else. I get it. Me too.’ White smoke was blocking her face, glowing even in this semi dark room.

Suddenly I felt sad. I could feel depression in my vein and I felt crying. I never missed the city till I left it. The moments became treasures and I longed for its return. But I never came back to it, while I could. ‘Why making a decision is so tough’?

I didn’t remember asking the question, but she heard anyway. Her eyes narrowed a little, as if with deep passion. ‘We all search the answer my friend. We all are.’

I stared at her, now with full attention. She looked like a real angel. A drunk angel conversing with another drunkard. I stood up smiling.

‘My friends are waiting. It was nice to meet you.’

‘Yeah ofcourse. Merry Christmas again’.

I remembered opening the glass door, walking towards my table, dragging the chair a bit and sitting with a bang. I remembered all, till the next beer.