42 Quirks

And so we continue… :)

——
The Story so far:

Nothing much, really.

A girl who drinks a lot of coffee. A guy immersed in Tarantino-Kubrick-Greenway films. Another guy who does not believe in omens. Put the three of them together at one coffee shop and what do we get?

Nothing, really.
——

He couldn’t see him, since he had his back to the entrance.

The waiter approached him and without warning suddenly swooped down towards his leg.

The first thought that flashed in his mind, was typically Tarantino. Is this waiter a were-wolf? Is he gonna bite my leg off? His questions ended up in disappointment as the waiter retrieved a pretty silken scarf and held it in front of him.

It was definitely pretty. Colors seemed to jump in and out of it. It would have looked pretty on any girl, even the librarian. It would have looked even prettier on the girl who had just collided with him, a few minutes back.

A faint thought rumbled in the deep confines of his brain.

He remembered thinking about olives when they had both fallen on the floor. Now he realized why. The girl had been smelling of olives and lemon. Maybe it was her perfume, maybe it was her shampoo.

And then, another thought rumbled in the deep confines of his brain. This one was quite far from the first one. But somehow, with a mighty effort, his brain managed to co-relate the two, and he brought the scarf near and sniffed it.

And then, the Universe collapsed, again.

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He stepped out of the auto-rickshaw, and paid the driver in a hurry.

“I don’t have change!”

“Keep the friggin’ change!!”

“Hey thanks! You might smell funny, but you have a golden heart!”

The funny smelling guy made his way to the café entrance and was about to step in when the importance of the auto-rickshaw driver’s remark hit home.

******

It had been a really bad day.

The first thing he did every morning was wake up on the right side. Today, it had been the left. And then as he was brushing his teeth, she had called.

He really should have ignored that call.

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Contd. from The Scarf: Part 3 – A Breather.

To preserve your sanity, I recommend you read none of these posts. If you do want to go to the depths of stark raving madness, click on the link or continue…

—–

What then, does happen to the passengers on the train?

Well, complying with the fundamental principles of Quantum Mechanics, the passengers may or may not switch trains while these ghost trains pass through each other .

(I believe another pint ot two of the golden brew might help at this point.)

Depending on whether the passengers do switch trains, (or refuse to do so) the collapsing of the universes may or maynot happen.

Notice the plural usage of the term ‘universe.’ I chose the plural since we have already established that the universes we are talking about are decidedly individual, It’s the thing in vogue, don’t you know?

So, as we were saying this collapsing of universes depends on whether you decide to switch trains ( No, not you r daily eight fifteens and nine-twenties. I mean, the ghost trains we are talking about!) Of course, if you try the switching-trains act with your daily eight-fifteen and nine-twenties, you’ll only end up being a candidate for the padded cell or a specimen for the students of medicine, one way or the other…

Yes, I do tend to confuse my parentheses…

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Well, this one was actually titled “Random Ramblings about Collapsing Universes.”

But I guess it fits the current storyline much more. So, here goes…

—–

Everytime the universe collapses, there is a high chance that you, my dear reader, are the principal cause.

Before you get your knickers into a twist, allow me to offer an explanation.

The collapsing of the universe happens too frequently, too often for anyone to notice. And it usually does that without the slightest preliminary notice that we all think it should serve.

Obviously, not everybody (or should i say everything?) follows the man-made precept of following rules laid down by other men.

Which in itself would be a great contradiction, because we can’t set rules for something (or someone) that set the rules for us in the first place.

Aah, I see that I am beginning to ramble. So I will very prudently get back to the thing I was attempting to explain.

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They say that you are supposed to look where you are going.

Obviously, he wasn’t around when they said that.

The collision was inevitable. She was engrossed in her thoughts, and he was trying to solve a differential calculus problem. The problem stayed where it was. He ended up as the denominator, and she, the numerator(1).

They soon regained their primate postures(2) and stood facing each other, uncomfortably. But one glance at the floor saved them from any uncomfortable exchanges.

The contents of her purse had spilled out, like in the movies and she hastily began to stuff them in.

It is indeed, a matter of awe to watch a woman put away her stuff back into her handbag.

First, the bundle of tissues (unused) went in. Then came the mini-make up kit, consisting of the compact foundation box, the corresponding brushes, a few mascara and kaajal sticks and a folding mirror (small). The face-wash tube and lip-stick tubes went in next. And finally, her wallet, which seemed to be bulging at the seams was stuffed inside.

The entire process would have been easier, had the hand bag been a little larger.

The said culprit of a hand-bag was slightly larger than her palm.

A matter of awe, indeed.

He resumed the differential calculus problem that had been so rudely interrupted and made his way to his regular table. He was pleased to find it empty and available. Smiling, he pulled a chair.

****

A steaming hot cup of lemon tea made way to his table.

“New phone?” piped the waiter.

“No, the same old one.” He replied on auto-pilot, his mind still on the calculus problem.

“Weird way to dress it up if you asked me… Heh heh!”

“Nope, I didn’t ask.”

“Well, enjoy your tea, then!” Saying thus, the waiter left him in peace.

A few moments later, it registered on him. He moved the cup of tea slightly to the left and there it was.

His first thought was that it was a headless doll. And then he realized that it wasn’t a Tarantino film. So he gingerly touched it. It didn’t move. He mustered up enough courage to pick it up.

And pick it up he did.

It was a sweatshirt all right; except, it was at least twenty sizes too small for anyone. For a brief moment he wondered if Tom Thumb and/or Thumbelina really existed. And the previous thought kicked him again. It wasn’t a Tarantino (or even a Kubrick, or a Greenaway) film.

The shiny zipper at the front demanded attention. And he tugged at it. At that moment he attained enlightenment(3).

The entire contraption was a holder for a cell phone. He was living in reality after all.

He sighed. What a disappointment. He made a mental note to watch less films.

No, strike that. Watch more films. At least, they are exciting, unlike reality and its representation in life.

While he was making notes to himself, the sweat-shirt began to shake as if possessed, and emanated weird sounds. The Tarantino-Kubrick-Greenaway connection had barely made its presence felt, when reality kicked in and brought him down crashing to terra-firma.

The phone was ringing. So much for imagination.

But now, he was in a dilemma.

If he were to answer the phone, he would be guilty of trespassing on someone’s private property. On the other hand, if he let it ring, it seemed likely that he would be verbally, even physically, abused in the next few minutes.

The spinal cord in cohorts with the medulla oblongata(2) does really weird things. From telling your heart when to beat, to snatching your hand away from a hot stove, it issues orders with the rapidity and precision of an army general.

It is still a matter of debate, whether it was the above medium or the brain that issued a command to hit the silent button, but the command was issued the same.

And then, the universe collapsed.

——
Footnotes:
1. Readers will kindly excuse the author’s affinity towards mathematics, pathetic jokes and any combination of the two.
2. Readers will also kindly pardon the author’s complete lack of any knowledge of biology. It wasn’t one of my favorite subjects, anyway.
3. Too many Zen Koans…

“Would you like to repeat the order again, ma’am?”

The emphasis on ‘again’ was not lost on her. But she chose to ignore it. It wasn’t his fault, really. After all, how could anyone drink six cups of black coffee in a span of two hours?

“No, thanks. The cheque, please.”

A smile lit up on the waiter’s face. This one wasn’t plastic for sure. And he scurried to the cash counter.

She sighed and looked at her watch.

Two hours. Well, she’d done her part. Nobody could say she hadn’t tried. One can only do so much, right?

She took her cell-phone and checked for new messages. None. Missed calls? None, again. Well, so much for living in the communication era.
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Continued from Them – Part 3

He stood there dumb-founded, the words not really registering upon him. She was leaving and he stood rooted to the spot. His mind was filled with a thousand questions all of which wanted an answer at once. His mind was filled with an impenetrable mist. He was lost in the fog. He was searching desperately for some kind of an answer. And by the time the mists cleared, she was gone. He stood there, looking at the ring in his hand.

***

She strode up rapidly toward the exit, dabbing her kerchief at her eyes attempting to remove the last traces of tears. But the harder she tried, the faster they came and then they didn’t stop.

His denial had been his undoing. The fact that he so vehemently denied proved that there was indeed someone else in his life. And he had been shocked when she first threw the accusation at him, hadn’t he? If he was telling the truth he needn’t have looked so shocked, right?

Oh why? Why me? Why does it have to be me? Didn’t I love him enough? Why did he have to go to someone else? What did the bitch have that she didn’t? She was definitely a hundred, thousand times more beautiful than her. Even he had said so. And even he admitted that she had a more beautiful smile than the bitch. She also had a better figure than her. Then why?

The strains of a latest movie song filled the air. She faintly recognized it as her cell phone ring-tone. She wiped her tears as best as she could, cleaned her nose and answered the phone. It was Sam.

“Hey, sorry I couldn’t call earlier. I was a little stuck in a meeting here. What’s wrong with your mobile?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“He was trying the whole of evening, but it seemed your mobile was ‘out of coverage area.’ Even I keep getting the same response. Where have you been?”

“Nowhere in particular. Why, what happened?”

“What happened? Haven’t you heard? He’s been promoted to Project Manager!! He wanted you to have the news first. But your cell phone must have conked off. So he called me. They forced him to host a small party and he said he would be late. So he asked me to call you and inform. I was stuck in a meeting with my boss so I couldn’t call earlier. You there?”

“Uh? Yes…”

“He’s slogged mighty hard for it, you know. The boss was impressed. Now he can easily book that flat he’s been looking at the whole of last month.”

“Flat? What flat?”

“You mean he hasn’t told you yet? Uh oh, big mistake! I was supposed to keep it a secret until he told it to you. Damn, me and my big mouth!! Listen, don’t tell him I told you. He’ll kill me. Come to think of it, he should have been there by now. Hasn’t he come yet? Hello… hello…”

She heard nothing more. Clutching the phone in her hand she ran. She knew he wouldn’t be there. Nobody would stomach such an insult and stay. But in her heart she hoped he would stay. She already knew what she had to do.

She reached the park bench. He was nowhere to be seen. Her heart sank. And then she noticed a lone figure sitting on the grass. It was he. He was sitting desolately, plucking the petals off the bunch of roses. She walked up to him. He saw her and immediately stood up, the joy on his face evident, but masked by caution.

She bade him sit on the grass. He obeyed.

He was still clutching the ring. She took his hand in hers and slipped on the ring. He looked at her and smiled. Everything was forgiven. The moment of madness had passed, faded. She leant upon his shoulder and rested her head upon it. He moved his fingers through her long hair. She attempted to speak.

“I…”

“Shhh… Don’t say a word. The new girl at the office is on the phone. I thought since you had left, I might as well flirt a little…”

Well, life was full of surprises.

—–

Author’s note:
That’s all that I have for the moment. I intend to continue it later, from this point, but don’t see where to go… Maybe I need one of those flashes-of-inspiration things that people keep talking about… :)