No Smoking

He was not used to this new job yet. Life is full of ups and downs they say. He was the perfect example. Till two weeks ago, he was earning bundles of crisp notes for just tapping the keys of a computer. Anyone passing by would salute him with a "Good morning sir!" But now he tapped his walking stick upon the pavement and saluted every passer by with an outstretched hand, "Good morning sir! Spare a coin for this poor fellow..."

That morning, just as he finished blessing a little boy for giving him a rupee, he saw a gentleman coming up the street. He was tidily dressed, creaseless shirt and sparkling shoes. A fair lady was walking along with the gentleman while talking animatedly.

Between the gentleman's teeth there stuck out a white cigarette with a glowing red end.

The beggar gasped, "It's dangerous. He must be warned."

So just as the gentleman was about to cross him, the beggar cleared his throat, "Good sir! Can you spare a moment for this poor creature?"

Now clearly the beggar was improving. He had used the phrase 'poor creature' instead of 'poor fellow'. His voice too was gaining modulation and that necessary tinge of self-pity. But more than the voice it was the eyes of the beggar that riveted the gentleman and made him halt in his steps. The beggar's gaze fell upon the woman for a moment and then drifted downwards.

The gentleman, who was still puffing the cigar, reached within his coat for some change but the beggar's voice intervened, "No sir. Money is not what I seek. There is something I wish to tell you..."

And then looking up at the gentleman's face amidst the cigar fumes, he said, "Drop it sir. Its scent pollutes the body and soul. The pleasure it gives is but temporary. Agony follows. Please avoid it sir."

The gentleman was obviously not going to listen to the beggar's advice. But there was something unearthly about the beggar's voice that made the woman quiver and clasp the gentleman's hand. The gentleman removed the cigar from his lips as if he was going to drop it. But he gave a sardonic smile and put it back between his teeth.

The beggar smirked and spoke again, "The moment the thing caresses your lips you feel a limitless ecstacy, but eventually it sucks out your very life, your joy. I was once a gentleman like you sir, but its lure made me mad. The very same thing destroyed my life. Just chuck it."

The beggar's words, unearthly in sound though they were, fell upon deaf ears. The gentleman bent down and blew the fumes upon the beggar's face. The beggar clutched his throat and began to cough.

"My money. My cigarette", breathed the gentleman and swirled around.

The lady stayed back for a moment, eyeing the beggar with a mixture of fear and suspicion. Then she quickened her pace and followed the gentleman. Their animated conversation continued as before.

I had been as usual jobless and so had been silently watching the proceedings. But now taking pity upon the beggar, I went up to him and patted him on his back until his coughs subsided and spoke, "Why do you strain yourself asking passers-by not to smoke? These people wont quit the habit even if debarred by law. You made yourself a fool advising him..."

The beggar began to laugh. It started slowly like the sound of a scooter refusing to start and turned slowly into a high-pitched guffaw. Amidst fits of laughter, the beggar said, "The fool aint me... It was not the cigarette that I was talking of... It was the lady beside the gentleman..."

True Love

(This story is whole-heartedly dedicated to all those true lovers out there…May your love blossom and bloom ever more…)

What would her reply be? This question was haunting his mind ever since he had decided to tell her his feelings.

He splashed another handful of water on his face. The day he had been awaiting had finally arrived. February 14th. Somehow this date seemed to give him courage and confidence.

He looked up at the mirror. He looked unrecognizable without his spectacles. And a bit more handsome, he thought. But he had decided to wear his specs when he would talk to her. He was firm that her reply should be to his words and not to his looks.

But what would that reply be? He wanted to pray again that it should be an ‘Yes’, but he had already made enough commitments with all the gods. A hundred and eight coconuts for Lord Ganesh, a hundred and eight candles for Jesus and a hundred and eight namaaz for Allah. He didn’t know what offerings one gave to Guru Nanak, otherwise he would have made that commitment too.

But why hundred and eight, he thought for a moment, as he reached for his towel. He didn’t know. He had just heard that number in films. That reminded him of the love scenes between the hero and heroine.

He thought of the various responses of the heroine to the hero. She would either slap him or silence him with a nice kiss. He wouldn’t mind a slap, he thought. It might as well knock out that loose tooth in his left jaw, and save him a dentist fee.

“Forget the outcome! Focus on the work to be done!” A newly awakened voice in his mind echoed the words of Vivekananda. He had just been reading his book the previous night looking for some speaking tips. After all, Vivekananda was a great public speaker. Love matters should have been a cakewalk for him. The book had been pretty useful. It had helped him sleep well.

He began to practice in front of the mirror. It was working out fine. His lips did not quiver anymore as he spoke, his chin pointed in the right direction and his eyebrows rose and fell in tune with his dialogue. Several days of rigorous practice was paying off and he was immensely confident of talking to her. Just as he showed a thumbs-up to himself in the mirror, there was a knock at the door.

* * * * *

As he walked into the crowded café, he saw through the corner of his eye that she was seated at the centre table. But he avoided gazing at her in the beginning. He no longer cared what her reply would be.

As he neared the table, he gathered enough courage to look at her. She was stirring a cup of coffee and smiling at him. He did not know how to react and immediately lowered his head.

She looked up at him as he took his seat. Their eyes met for the first time. Immediately, he was reminded of the postman knocking on the door in the morning. He smiled when he thought of the parcel that he delivered. It was a Valentine’s Day gift from her - a cute little toy car.

“She must have nicked it from the toys of her younger brother”, he mused. But howsoever it may have been obtained; it was an official Valentine gift.

He had then decided to cut short all the dialogues that he had rehearsed perfectly so far. The three words would be sufficient, he thought.

The clatter and buzz in the café sounded to him like a stadium audience, cheering him to proceed. He could bear it no longer. His heart was almost bursting out of his chest. The more he looked at her face, the more he lost control over his senses.

Finally, being unable to hold himself back any longer, he blurted out the three words, “Let’s break up!”