The girl in the black shirt walked past the security check of the airport, directly into the bar. It was a quiet and dim-lit place, sort of a place she always loved to sit in.
It was sparsely filled with few travelers and Vivaldi’s Four Seasons was playing in the background adding a classic and grandeur feel, like the music. The bar had a narrow entrance with a small alleyway which led her to the bartender. She often sat at the bartender’s table and today was no different. All but one chair was occupied and, for some reason she chose to sit next to that occupied chair. A guy sat there reading a book.
She couldn’t see his face since it was buried deep in the book. She raised her hand as she sat, towards the bartender and ordered for White Wine and some chips with salsa on the side.
She felt a wonderful cooling sensation of the air conditioner which eased the humidity of Mumbai air she experienced sometime back. It was almost midnight, but the Mumbai weather never failed to drench her in sweat. While her order arrived, she pulled out her phone and checked her schedule. Her to-do list had grown long in the last few days while she was in India. She decided to make it shorter. Replying to a few mails quickly shortened her list and then she switched off her phone for good. She wouldn’t be able to use the phone even if she wanted to for the next 15-20 hrs. She loved this part of traveling where she could stay away from the phone. Because her job required her to be available online all the time, her phone ended up sucking up most of her time and it was very difficult and exhausting especially when she was in different time zones. But now for a few hours, she could relieve herself of the phone
Her order arrived. The glass of wine was elegant and looked tempting. As she moved her hand to pick the glass, her elbow accidentally pushed the awkwardly kept half-eaten sandwich, which was in front of the person sitting next to her, and it fell. She looked at the sandwich fallen on the floor which was now uneatable and sighed. She asked the bartender to repeat the order of sandwich and mouthed sorry, but the guy was too engrossed in his book to notice.
She let him be and sipped the wine. The cold liquid went smoothly down in her throat. Her nerves began to calm down. The cold glass felt good against her hand and she extended the same cold pleasure to her cheeks by putting the glass against them. She closed her eyes and felt a soothing sensation as the cold glass touched her cheeks. She sighed satisfactorily. Everything was calm when people closed their eyes. If only the world would stop right now, she thought.
“Your sandwich is here.” A voice which wasnt bartenders, made her open her eyes. She saw the guy who was sitting next to her and reading, was now looking at her. He held the book in one hand with his finger being a bookmark holding it from closing entirely.
“Oh! I’m sorry. It is for you.” she said. “My hand tripped your sandwich by mistake sometime back and I thought I’d order another one. I tried to tell you, but you were busy reading.” The wine glass in her hand had now left her cheek and was on the table.
“But that was not my sandwich. It was already there when I got here and I told the bartender to not pick it up.”
“Oh..” That was… awkwardly funny.
“Yes. Oh.” He said smiling and continued “But thank you very much, I will have this one nevertheless.” His voice was mature and so were his eyes but he looked skinny and that is why seemed to be younger. She thought he must be in his mid-twenties, close to her age, but his voice suggested he must be at least a decade older than her assumption.
The guy turned towards the bartender and ordered a Diet Coke and asked her if she wanted anything. She smiled and declined politely.
There were still not many people in the bar. She could now hear Shostakovich’s Waltz No 2.
“See that’s the thing with our brain. People see something and our brain tries to put it together and make a logical explanation because the brain cannot comprehend without logic. The mind sees what it wants to or rather what it has decided to see. Dan Brown said that. Not that I blame you. It’s just how our mind works.” He said
She smiled. “Dan Brown. He’s the same guy who caused quite an upheaval with one of his books right? What was its name?”
“The Da Vinci Code.”
“Ah yes. Such a cryptic and mysterious name that makes people want to buy the book. I was in the Louvre when I saw a small group of people protesting against the Museum. They had read the book and believed that the museum had something beneath it which was unholy. Something which was mentioned in the book I suppose. One of them even had an X-Ray image of the museum to prove his point. Funny what people will do to prove themselves right.” She sipped her drink.
The diet coke arrived to an empty sandwich plate – he ate it before the coke. He opened the can with a sharp click and hiss of escaping gas and took a long swig and washed down his sandwich.
“The Louvre is indeed beautiful, especially the Mona Lisa.” He said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Walking the museum through the bright Room of the Statues, to see the painting which is kept behind the bulletproof glass illuminated by the bright LED light is a royal experience. It’s like watching a majestic Lion. Although I do know that The Mona Lisa over there is a replica and the original is down in the crypts somewhere.”
“In a cage.” She added further to his sentence. “But Yes. Yes. Its exactly like you said. During my visit though, I pulled some strings and got to see the original as well. They exchange original and fake at undefined times and when I saw the replica and asked, they told me the truth and showed me the original. I must say, I prefer the replica because it was brighter and livelier in a sort of a way and it felt slightly rich in colors. The original one, though restored, looked – how do I put it – rather faded.”
“Well, you certainly have some top level connections if you saw the original one. Mind if I ask what you do to earn that privilege?”
“I work for UNESCO in Geneva. The Department for Women Empowerment.”
“I see. I work in Geneva too, but on the opposite side of the town where you work. In CERN. As a security guard.” he said with a mischievous tone.
“And you are in India visiting your family?” she asked.
“Yes. And now flying back to work. How about you?”
She nodded with a muffled ‘mm-hmm’ as she drained her glass. She requested the bartender for whiskey on the rocks. She asked the guy if he would fancy a glass and he smiled and declined politely. The clink of two ice cubes dropped in an empty glass were audible even with the gentle music in the bar. She gulped down half of the freshly filled glass and the guy opened his book and continued reading. Both of them were quiet for some time and the silence filled between them; not the awkward sort but of a serene one. Tchaikovsky’s Dance of Swans helped to fill the silence.
She drank a little more of the whiskey. Her nerves calmed down as she let the alcohol loosen and soothe her. While she was cooling down, He was absorbed in his book again. She saw a little balding patch on his head which she hadn’t noticed before. She also saw that the guy was wearing rather ordinary clothes, but they suited him because of his decent physique. He wasn’t chiseled but wasn’t flabby either.
The can of diet coke was now standing between both of them for some time and water droplets had collected on it due to condensation. She saw as two of the droplets began trickling downwards. Her gaze was stuck on their race towards the end. She hoped the right drop would win the race but the left one picked up speed all of a sudden and it reached to the bottom of the tin only to be absorbed by the coaster. It all happened in an instant.
“My bet was on the left one. Which one did you pick?” He had been looking at her for a while now.
“Right one. For a moment I thought it was going to win but the left one zoomed so fast.” she said and continued for no reason just to have something to talk to. “You know, I have been to one of the Coca Cola manufacturing factories and it is manufactured in such a strict quality control process. For an unhealthy drink, they do take care a lot.”
“In Atlanta? But that’s hardly a manufacturing unit. That’s where the manufacturing began originally and its relatively small even for their office. There is hardly any space.” He said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“No. Not Atlanta but the one in Canada. You have traveled a lot as well, it seems.” She said, looking inquisitively and slightly impressed.
He chuckled. “Oh no. I haven’t. Except for a few places in Mumbai and Basel and Geneva in Switzerland. I have traveled very little. Forgive me for the deception.”
“Then how could you tell me so many details about The Louvre and Coca Cola factory without looking at Googl– “ she stopped midway. “Have you read about it?”
He smiled and she continued. “Ah! A well-read guardian who protects the world sanctuary of Scientists for living. Impressive.”
“That is right, O well travelled protector of women.” He tried mocking her tone.
“That is sexist and not creative at all.” she said jokingly and they both laughed at it.
Schubert’s Ave Maria was playing in the background which increased the dramatic feel of the bar.
“It is true. I have read a lot and know many things about the places where I have never visited and maybe never will visit. But words coupled with imagination and a little bit of internet, I can mentally travel anywhere, anytime.”
“But” she interrupted him, “It will always be through the eyes of someone else. Maybe a writer or a photographer. You wouldn’t be able to feel something of your own. It will always be someone else’s feelings and experiences and their vision. You know, like a writer writing about a place and describing it as beautiful but in reality, the place is beautiful and serene or maybe it is only serene. You would never know the serenity, only the beautiful part, which would be the other half of it.”
He nodded and said “Of course there may be other feelings and descriptions of the place but they could be subjective. I mean the place may be serene for one individual only but for others it is beautiful and maybe something else, in which case, the majority will have an upper hand, ergo, the place will be declared as beautiful – collectively. That is also why I read the writings of different authors on similar topics. This helps to give me multiple views and I get to paint the whole picture inside here.” He pointed to his temples.
“Yes, but it would be only through the books. They are simply words – although descriptive but not real. The actual experience can always beat the description you get from books.”
He smiled. “You look like you don’t read a lot.”
“I do; when it’s necessary. Not that I’m against books or book readers but I’m of the opinion that practicality triumphs over theory. Practical knowledge is infinitely better than theoretical knowledge. The experiences outside of books are way better.”
“Or in some cases books influence reality. I agree to the fact that experiences have a greater impact on our senses which the books may not have but I believe that books do exert enormous experience, maybe from an unexperienced reality and soak you with infinite feelings. A reader is a cocktail of many talented brains. It’s just that the writer has to be good and the reader has to be perceptive, receptive and be able to use a teeny-tiny bit of his imagination.”
She shook her head furiously with a wide smile. Her short shoulder length hair disrupt and regain their positions. He liked what he saw and thought of making her say ‘No’ again and again just to watch her shiny black hair falling back in place, but he thought of something better. Prokofiev’s Dance of Knights playing in the bar, pulled his attention momentarily but a thought crept in his mind all of a sudden.
“How about you tell me five popular places you have been to and I will describe them. If my description matches to what you felt or saw over there for, umm lets say, three or more places, you read a book that I tell you to and if my description matches with less than three places, I’ll pay for the bill here and the dinner is on me when we meet again in Geneva.”
She thought about it. It seemed like a good deal, but she didn’t want to say yes immediately. The two glasses of liquor had worked her up already and she was feeling light. She didn’t reply but asked the bartender for another glass of whiskey – on the rocks.
“You don’t drink at all?” she asked.
“I avoid liquor when I’m traveling by flight.”
“No? Why? You are not going to drive. Or fly the plane.” She said, rolling her eyes.
“No, but if the flight crashes, I should be in my senses to save myself and maybe others too.”
She didn’t say anything but thought how anyone can have such apocalyptic thoughts. She had been to so many places and different countries, all thanks to her job, but never had she found airports and flights to be unsafe. After taking so many flights, she had found air travel to be one of the safest and most comfortable forms of travel.
The fresh glass of whiskey had arrived. She swirled it in her hand for a while and had a sip.
“Fine.” She said finally, “Sounds like a good bet.”
To announce his readiness, he swigged from the can of coke and emptied it.
“Okay go.” He said.
She had been to more places than an average person could ever imagine going but she couldn’t recall one clearly, thanks to the second glass in her hand. She hadn’t lost her senses yet, and there were times when she was far more drunk than she could handle but not today.
She pulled out her passport to help her focus on a particular country so that she could name a location. After flipping through a few pages, she stopped at one and said, “Christ the Redeemer.”
“Rio De Janeiro, Brazil. A heavily crowded place, even for Indians like us, since tourists flock to the place. The entire peak of Corcovado mountain where this giant 30-foot-tall statue made out of soapstone and reinforced concrete stands majestically overlooking the city. After you reach the base of the statue, you look at the statue and you get a feeling of being so small and insignificant and if you are a Christian, surely your religious values would pop up all of a sudden. The statue looks down upon you from the clouds giving a feeling of God looking at you through heaven, which makes you feel safe, secure and thankful. The view opposite to the statue is far more breathtaking than the statue. What we see is a vast blue ocean and a big mountain which resembles an island – The sugarloaf mountain. While there are tall buildings all over the city giving a modern feel, Sugarloaf mountain gives an Amazonian feeling. In the evening, there are lights around the statue. Bright white lights which protrude from below the statue near the feet and when seen from a distance, these lights are supposed to give a holy feeling, a feeling of Godliness; but I feel the statue looks like Robert Downey Jr as Iron Man on the stage.” He took the can to take another swig of the coke but halfway through realized it was empty. He looked at her and saw her looking back at him holding a smile.
“Correct. Every word of it. I could see in your eyes like you have actually been there. Hell, the way you were describing it, I felt I was there once again.”
“Right. Next.” He said and ordered another can of diet Coke with a sandwich. The bartender was on it right away.
“Ladakh.” She answered immediately as she had already decided on the place.
Debussy’s Claire de lune was playing in the bar now. It calmed him a bit before he began.
“The Union Territory of Ladakh has you under its spell and pulling out your cameras because of the scenic beauty of the Himalayas. The Majestic ice mountains are visible from the flight before you land. The moment you come out of flight, the first thing you notice is how light, fresh and cold the air is, for the air is from the Mighty Himalayas. Ladakh is full of a feast for eyes with scenic places like The Shanti Stupa, Moonscape in Lamayuru, Khardung-La Pass, Pangong Lake, The Giant Buddhas and Monasteries and one cannot simply pick a favorite, however, the most popular one, and I’m sure you agree with it too, is Pangong Lake. The beautiful lake through which runs the Line of Control of India and China is a feast to the eyes. It is full of salty water and no fish, yet we see a flock of seagulls in the lake, like white spots moving on the blue. The lake is surrounded by yellow mountains where Armies of both countries are located and keep an eye on the tourists. It can get very cold and people tend to go out of breath at times since it is located 14000 Ft above sea level. This lake being salty is surrounded by sand and yet it experiences a snowfall. It’s like you can see the Snow, the Sand, the Lake and Mountains all at one place while light, fresh air flows around you. It is extremely peaceful near the lake and clear and bright blue skies speckled with white clouds can be seen stretching for long miles – makes you feel relaxed and peaceful. The lake scatters the light sometimes and onlookers feel like the water is of different color at different places.” There was a pause.
“Sadly, when I went there, I couldn’t see the lake closely, rather I saw it from a distance. But now I feel like I’ve truly ‘seen’ it. Bravo!” She raised her glass to him, to which he toasted his can. Both took a swig and looked at each other. He looked at her passport and raised his eyebrow signaling her to name the next location.
“Okay, I get it. You have read a lot, probably more than I have traveled but how can you remember so many places, their names, and details and the feelings they associate with?”
“The internet is filled with pictures of beautiful places. There are pictures of monuments which they try to sell us, photoshopped probably and then there are unaltered pictures of travelers in reviews. Also, there is a lot already written about these places in many magazines. All you gotta do is read and imagine you are there.”
“So you would never travel to these places?” she asked.
“If I get an opportunity, I will, but if I don’t, I won’t regret not traveling.”
She nodded. “Well then, next we go to Kabul, Afghanistan.”
He sighed. “Looks like you got me. I’m one down here. I haven’t read a lot about Modern Afghanistan and a lot is written about the civilization which flourished before the war. Of course, there are a lot of books describing wars in Afghanistan but sadly, I haven’t read many to tell you about it.”
She liked his straightforward surrender, in a matter-of-fact way.
She began, “It’s like the entire city of Kabul is torn to pieces and left to die. The city is almost crushed after the Taliban takeover. You see a lot of places and imagine them to be magnificent at one point in time but now all that is left is rubble and scared locals who either don’t know where to go or don’t know how to go. Its horrible, especially for children and women. You either hear Azaans or bombs and guns or there is only silence. An unnatural silence.”
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah sure. I need another drink. Gin and Tonic, please. Memories of Kabul and the people over there are anti-alcoholic.” As soon as her drink came, she gulped it down and squirmed her eyes for its bitter taste, coughing a little.
“Right. Next, Aoshima, Japan.”
He took a bite of his sandwich and drank a little coke. “Also known as Cat Island, it is about 2 hours from Tokyo. It is surrounded by seas, obviously, since it’s an island. There are probably 6 times as many cats as people. Cats were initially brought by locals of Aoshima because they faced rodent problems, but cats have loved it since then and multiplied drastically. From the moment you get down at the harbor, every pace of yours will be accompanied by a bunch of fat, fluffy and sleepy-eyed cats. There are cats literally everywhere, on the road, in the abandoned houses, on the roofs, near the harbor everywhere. Although most of them will be sitting quietly napping, minding their own business, catfights and funny gimmicks are not uncommon. With the flowing sea breeze and colorful nature around, you find these lovable packs of purring furballs exciting. And Yes, if you go there, remember to carry cat food since there are not a lot of stores on the island. To sum it up, its a place where you would feel a combination of peace, happiness and childishness” As he finished it, he chomped down the remainder of his sandwich.
It wasn’t a surprise for her now. She expected him to tell about the island. “You know, I have never been there, in Aoshima. I’m going there next week.”
“Oh cool. Send pictures to me and let me know if my description helped.” He replied.
“Sure I will.” She said and continued, “So, which book do you want me to read?”
“But we have one more place to go. We decided on five places.”
“It wouldn’t matter because you won the bet already unless you want to show off.”
He chuckled. “Alright, alright. So the book I want you to read is this.” He held up the cover page of the book he was reading. Gone with the Wind.
“Oh boy. It looks so big.”
“A bet is a bet.”
She smiled. “Right. A bet is a bet.”
Yiruma’s River Flows in You was playing in the the bar now.
“Come on. What are you waiting for? There is a book store right here. We’ll buy you that book.”
“What? right now? I’m two glasses away from getting hammered and I plan on getting hammered. You will be there to look after right?”
“Oh yes. I will. For the next 15 hours.”
“Oh wait. Tell me, how am I supposed to believe that you have never been to any of those places we just talked about?” She asked.
“Can’t you take me for my word?”
“Well, I already have, but it is rather surprising and doubtful that how can a man tell so much about so many places without going there. Something more substantial would validate –“
He took out his passport and gave it to her. “Have a look?” he said.
She opened the passport and all she saw were stamps of Indian Visas. He had traveled only to India and nowhere else. As she came to the last page of the passport, she saw his boarding pass.
“Hey, you aren’t on my flight. Rather I’m not on your flight. Wait. Let me rephrase. We are not on the same flight.” Clearly, she was tipsy. She showed her boarding pass to him. They were indeed on different flights and their flights departed by a difference of two hours but arrived at the almost same time in Geneva.
“Damn. That’s not good.” He said, rechecking his boarding pass with hers.
“I know.”
Disappointment was visible on their faces and could be heard in their voice and wanted to change their flights but they knew it wasn’t possible unless they were ready to spend a lot of money. Both of them didn’t say anything for a long time, or maybe for some time. The cheerful talk was now replaced by an odd silence which seemed to be filled with disappointment.
There was an occasional sound of the bartender cleaning empty glasses. They looked and smiled at each other. First, he, then her. It was like both of them consoled each other saying ‘Its okay’.
He got up from his chair first. Picked up his book, passport, and bag. “Well, my flight is early. So I should be leaving.”
She got up and hugged him which caught him slightly off guard. “It was nice talking to you,” she said.
“Same here. See you in fifteen plus two hours.” He paused and then said “To Travelling,”
“To books.” She replied. There was an invisible toast.
He forced a smile and turned away, walking slowly checking his boarding pass for the departure gate.
She sat there for quite some time and then left just before her flight time. There was no music in the bar now.
Next day.
The bartender walked in early tonight. After passing through the standard security check of Mumbai airport, where he greeted known officers, he came to the bar – his bar. It was quiet as usual. His earlier replacement had put on Beethoven and the music quietly hummed in the background. He liked his colleagues’ taste in music and often repeated the songs during his shift as well.
He walked in and wore an apron and took his place behind the bar. Yesterday night there was a guy and a girl who had ordered a lot of stuff and given him good business. They kept yammering about different countries and places and the girl kept drinking and the guy kept eating. He hoped he would have similar customers today. He cleaned the bits and pieces on the table, arranged the bar stools and stood with his back against the bar and saw the TV that was playing the news on mute.
Apparently, a flight from Mumbai to Geneva had crashed with no survivors. Poor Bastards, he thought. One moment you are sitting in a bar, drinking happily and another moment you are gone, just like that. He lost his attention on the News as a girl walked into his bar. His first customer tonight.
‘Here we go.’ He thought and went back to business as usual.