The cool draught of air from the air-conditioner welcomed him. It was always such a respite from the maddening heat. It was the month of May, Bombay was experiencing its worst summer in the last five years. Still it didn’t deter the determined Wilson Varghese from visiting the book store. A self proclaimed bibliophile, coming to the Strand was the weekend activity he always looked forward to.
After acknowledging the store owner, he set aside his bag near the counter. Though the store owners never asked for such a gesture, intrusion was something the Strand always advised against, besides, Wilson being a regular customer they all knew him. Nevertheless, he thought it was a polite way of taking care of their apprehensions (even if they had any).
After the initial prerequisites and formalities were taken care of, he set about moving to his favourite section, where they housed the works of Ustad Mirza Ghalib. A late entrant to the world of the poetry, but as they say “better late than never”, Wilson began reading and collecting the works of great poets from Eliot, Frost, Yeats, Wordsworth and so forth. Urdu poetry had smitten him lately, after having read a translation of one of Ghalib's ghazals. Though he couldn't read Urdu, nonetheless he immensely enjoyed the translations in English. After having spent a fortune in collecting the works of Ghalib (much to the consternation of his room mates, who grappled with space constraints due to the increasing number of books he brought back), he only needed one book to complete his collection. The book which eluded him happened to be Mirza Ghalib: Selected Lyrics and Letters by Dr. K.C. Kanda: a collection of Ghalib's correspondences. He didn’t find it on the shelf. The store owner with whom Wilson had placed a request couple of weeks earlier came up to him with the book.
“Here’s what you are looking for!”
“Oh! So you’ve finally managed to get it.” Said Wilson, a sense of relief clouding his face.
“Yes, you see this is the only book which is out of print lately, some issues with the publishers it seems. But we managed to pull some strings and get it for you, you see we believe in bending our backs for our customers."
“Here’s what you are looking for!”
“Oh! So you’ve finally managed to get it.” Said Wilson, a sense of relief clouding his face.
“Yes, you see this is the only book which is out of print lately, some issues with the publishers it seems. But we managed to pull some strings and get it for you, you see we believe in bending our backs for our customers."
Wilson thanked them for their kind gesture, with an overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment laid his hands on the book and started moving around. From the corner of his eyes, he could see a girl looking at him, though looking would be an understatement, she was actually staring at him. Having not experienced such pleasures quite often, Wilson was basking in it. Occasionally looking back at the girl. The girl Wilson had to admit looked very pretty. She was wearing a beige kurta with skinny blue jeans. Accessorized it with the some bohemian beads as a necklace. Her hands were covered with bangles complementing the necklace. Her eyes were kohl lined. Given the kind of egoistic bloke Wilson was, he expected the girl to come forward and introduce herself. Few minutes passed, there was no initiation from the Girl’s side.
“Dash it, I will go and talk to her.” Thought Wilson and approached the girl.
“Yes, how may I help you?” said Wilson.
“Oh! Please don’t misunderstand me, I er… just happened to overhear the conversation you had with the store owner. You see even I am looking for the same book which you are holding in your hands, yes Mirza Ghalib: Selected Lyrics and Letters by Dr. K.C. Kanda. You see I am doing a thesis on Urdu literature, and wish to know more about the poet Mirza Ghalib, and apparently I have been made to believe that to learn more about how Mirza Ghalib lived, I will have to read his letters as his poetry in Urdu is incomprehensible and won't help me much.
"Go and find it on the internet then!" Wilson thought of saying, but being as civil as Bertie Wooster and besides, a chivalrous regard for the sex kept him from saying so.
“Perhaps, you can read it and give it to me later.”
“Well, you see I hate lending and borrowing books. I like owning them instead.” Explained the girl.
“ I share exactly the same sentiments about books.” Wilson retorted back.
“Okay, you can have it, I will buy it some other time.” Said Wilson and handed the book over. “That’s so very kind of you! How about a coffee, can I buy you a coffee in return for the kind gesture?” said the girl ecstatically.
“Sure why not!” Said Wilson with a gleam of hope.
The coffee shop 'Bombay Cafe' was unlike the kind revolutionized by the 'Starbucks' and closer home by the 'Baristas' and the 'Cafe Coffee Days'. For a start the walls were painted red and were adorned with pictures of communist revolutionaries: Guevara, Lenin and their likes, the other wall with literary greats like Shakespeare, Dumas, Hemingway, Orwell. The third wall with western classical musicians: Mozart, Beethoven, Bach, Brahms. And the fourth with movie directors like Kurosawa, Orson Welles, Kubrick, even Satyajit Ray with Guru Dutt merited to be hung on their wall of fame. It had wooden benches and chairs, nevertheless looked comfortable. The waft of coffee hung in it permanently.
"Quite a place this, I've never been here!" Wilson said looking around.
"Oh yes, caters to the arty and the intelligentsia." The Girl said with some amount of haughtiness.
"Shall we sit on the table near the window?"
"Alright, by the way we haven't introduced ourselves, my name is Wilson!"
"Oh yes, how silly of us, hi my name is Geeta."
"So what do you do Geeta?"
"I am doing my Mphil, and what about you?"
"Well, I am a film student, learning to direct films!"
"Hey thats brilliant, this is just the kind of place for you and me"!
"Yeah, absolutely, I liked it. Its design, its concept, can you tell me what is being played in background?"
“Dash it, I will go and talk to her.” Thought Wilson and approached the girl.
“Yes, how may I help you?” said Wilson.
“Oh! Please don’t misunderstand me, I er… just happened to overhear the conversation you had with the store owner. You see even I am looking for the same book which you are holding in your hands, yes Mirza Ghalib: Selected Lyrics and Letters by Dr. K.C. Kanda. You see I am doing a thesis on Urdu literature, and wish to know more about the poet Mirza Ghalib, and apparently I have been made to believe that to learn more about how Mirza Ghalib lived, I will have to read his letters as his poetry in Urdu is incomprehensible and won't help me much.
"Go and find it on the internet then!" Wilson thought of saying, but being as civil as Bertie Wooster and besides, a chivalrous regard for the sex kept him from saying so.
“Perhaps, you can read it and give it to me later.”
“Well, you see I hate lending and borrowing books. I like owning them instead.” Explained the girl.
“ I share exactly the same sentiments about books.” Wilson retorted back.
“Okay, you can have it, I will buy it some other time.” Said Wilson and handed the book over. “That’s so very kind of you! How about a coffee, can I buy you a coffee in return for the kind gesture?” said the girl ecstatically.
“Sure why not!” Said Wilson with a gleam of hope.
The coffee shop 'Bombay Cafe' was unlike the kind revolutionized by the 'Starbucks' and closer home by the 'Baristas' and the 'Cafe Coffee Days'. For a start the walls were painted red and were adorned with pictures of communist revolutionaries: Guevara, Lenin and their likes, the other wall with literary greats like Shakespeare, Dumas, Hemingway, Orwell. The third wall with western classical musicians: Mozart, Beethoven, Bach, Brahms. And the fourth with movie directors like Kurosawa, Orson Welles, Kubrick, even Satyajit Ray with Guru Dutt merited to be hung on their wall of fame. It had wooden benches and chairs, nevertheless looked comfortable. The waft of coffee hung in it permanently.
"Quite a place this, I've never been here!" Wilson said looking around.
"Oh yes, caters to the arty and the intelligentsia." The Girl said with some amount of haughtiness.
"Shall we sit on the table near the window?"
"Alright, by the way we haven't introduced ourselves, my name is Wilson!"
"Oh yes, how silly of us, hi my name is Geeta."
"So what do you do Geeta?"
"I am doing my Mphil, and what about you?"
"Well, I am a film student, learning to direct films!"
"Hey thats brilliant, this is just the kind of place for you and me"!
"Yeah, absolutely, I liked it. Its design, its concept, can you tell me what is being played in background?"
"Hey thats simple, its Chopin and its 'Fantaisie Impromptu'. "
Wilson was amazed, not only did she get the name right with the right pronunciation (yes people the name is pronounced as 'shop-an' and not 'chop-in') but also got the composition bang-on.
Just the kind of girl I want to be with Wilson thought.
The bearer shimmered in, "would you like to place any request sir?"
"Oh yes what would you would like to have?"
"A cup of Cappuccino for me."
"Same here."
"Do you frequent this place?"
"Usually with my friends after watching a play at the NCPA, we come here to discuss on it over endless cups of coffee."
"You know we have so many things in common, thanks to poetry we discovered each other, but we also share a penchant for western classics, and theater."
The cell phone rang, it was the unusual 'phone-ring', again something the purist Wilson appreciated.
"Excuse me I need to take this call." Geeta said picking the phone and started moving out.
"Sure, go ahead." Wilson nodded affirmatively.
The bearer came in and placed the Cappuccino.
"Would you like anything else Sir?"
"Not at the moment, thank you!"
Wilson had to admit, he started liking this girl. But was she the one? Might be too early to say but a perfect companion to be with. Intelligent, suave, well read. He promised himself to ask the girl out as soon as she comes in. He gathered some courage and thought of some lines to tread the proposer's line.
But what happened next was something Wilson was not prepared for at all. So silly of me to have not anticipated the other possibility. 'The other man'. Geeta walked in with another guy, he was everything what Wilson wasn't. Was around 6' 2" tall, fair, with a chiseled physique.
"Meet my new friend Wilson. Wilson he is Rajveer my fiance. Rajveer is an investment banker with Citibank in London.
"Hi Rajveer, nice to see you!"
Rajveer: those MBA grads from IITs, IIMs and I I have no clue from where else, perhaps from LSE's and LSD's.
"Oh yes what would you would like to have?"
"A cup of Cappuccino for me."
"Same here."
"Do you frequent this place?"
"Usually with my friends after watching a play at the NCPA, we come here to discuss on it over endless cups of coffee."
"You know we have so many things in common, thanks to poetry we discovered each other, but we also share a penchant for western classics, and theater."
The cell phone rang, it was the unusual 'phone-ring', again something the purist Wilson appreciated.
"Excuse me I need to take this call." Geeta said picking the phone and started moving out.
"Sure, go ahead." Wilson nodded affirmatively.
The bearer came in and placed the Cappuccino.
"Would you like anything else Sir?"
"Not at the moment, thank you!"
Wilson had to admit, he started liking this girl. But was she the one? Might be too early to say but a perfect companion to be with. Intelligent, suave, well read. He promised himself to ask the girl out as soon as she comes in. He gathered some courage and thought of some lines to tread the proposer's line.
But what happened next was something Wilson was not prepared for at all. So silly of me to have not anticipated the other possibility. 'The other man'. Geeta walked in with another guy, he was everything what Wilson wasn't. Was around 6' 2" tall, fair, with a chiseled physique.
"Meet my new friend Wilson. Wilson he is Rajveer my fiance. Rajveer is an investment banker with Citibank in London.
"Hi Rajveer, nice to see you!"
Rajveer: those MBA grads from IITs, IIMs and I I have no clue from where else, perhaps from LSE's and LSD's.
Wilson thought what he lacked in appearance, he might gain in the area of intelligence, but this guy trumped him in every mentionable department.
"Hi! So Wilson, what do you do?"
"Well er.. I am into directing films.
"Hey, thats interesting, so all the best Wilson, Geeta, shouldn't we be leaving, remember we promised Shalini aunty that we will be at her place for dinner tonight!
"Oh yes, we need to go, see you Wilson, be around and thanks for the book.
Wilson only smiled. Cursed his luck.
"May I present you the cheque sir?"
"Oh yes!" Wilson said in a losers tone. Lost the book, lost the girl and lost the love all in a jiffy.
