Waiting in anticipation for that dull afternoon to end, Sia looked at the seat to her right. That empty chair which always brought to her all the happiness of this world. How she was reincarnated when she had come to know that the chair would not have dried ginger faced creature anymore. She switched the system off, went out of the building and was home.
These meetings always excited her. Conversations with a potential ‘renaissance man’ over a cup of coffee as it used to be when she was 21. Things have evolved now-progressive or retrogressive-she prefers believing the former. This was going to be a conversation over a glass of Texas tea with good music playing. Probably like one of those mesmerizing evenings in Katmandu. Mountains taught her to enjoy herself without a renaissance man. She learnt to talk to herself with panache, Pink Floyd playing at the back. She missed the fresh air here. That ugliness in the oxygen she inhaled. She was getting used to it in past nine years and the ugliness befriended her hatred. The ugliness always produced that urge to look for a renaissance. Those imprints of calming sea and the man waking fearlessly convinced her that the quest would end this time. Her stop had come.
She got down from the train and found herself walking towards him. That idiosyncratic look in black and shaved off head, those brown eyes which warned her earlier also but it was an adventure and she just cared about conversations hoping to get some reflection, some light in the darkness. They were walking and she saw the guard and the place. Reminded of the last experience, she decided not to go. They passed it but she had already clicked the picture. She knew where the conversation would be.
Sia has always been like that-a cat. She was loyal to places and all the non-living things around. People did not interest her much except for this quest. She looked straight into his eyes; she knew the man can be trusted for everything. The only assumption is that he is a fearless bastard. She knew the bridge is not to be formed but the streams have to flow in parallel. They would never meet. The eyes were deep though; honest eyes screaming at her, ‘I will not harm you until you permit'. He went out for a while. She sloshed herself, hoping to be brainless but she knew deep down her brain is too evolved for that. She could never afford to be a woman. Her softness was to be kept locked. She would take it out only for infants, probably for her kids someday. Her heart, soul and body would be shared by one. She believed in virginity of her thoughts.
She did not want conversation to end. She wanted it to flow. It was flowing.The Renaissance man was fading now, and it was just those brown eyes she was seeing. She wanted to drown into them. The conversation was flowing. It turned into soliloquy soon.She was turning the pages back,'Memoirs of Kathmandu'.
The quest continues. ‘Mountains and sea don’t meet probably’. Sia sighed
