Anirban Mukherjee's Blog - Posts Tagged "novel"
Love Bites - Chapter 1 (Sample Read)
2nd January 2004, Chicago
I was all by myself inside the Starbucks café, occupying a settee facing the street; juxtapose the luxurious Belgian glass casement. It was a Friday evening; I came back from work early, speculating the idea of spending an evening of isolation. Most of my colleagues however, transformed themselves into party animals and chose to attend an intensely hyped New Year bash organized in a famous hotel at the heart of the city. However, I was in no mood to join them and stepped into this coffee bar, located on the famous Chicago loop, trying to save myself from yet another impending snowfall.
I was sipping hot mocha and chomping a Chocó chip cookie, while observing the snowflakes falling all around. I was all alone in America, but my mind was wandering somewhere else. For a moment, I thought I saw ‘her’ familiar figure to cross the street and approach the café’s glass pane. My eyes saw her unmistakable aura reflecting from the icicles hanging from the porch. However, moments later, I realized, it was simply an illusion. No way could this happen. I tried to convince myself; after all, I was miles away from Mumbai. I gazed through the portal again and witnessed another gush of wind hovering across the street, disturbing the fresh mound of snow accumulated besides it. After a while, I pulled out a gold chain from my pocket and gawped at it. It was nothing but an insignificant chain, yet radical, as it often manacled me with those myriad priceless memories
The music system in the café was playing an epic melody from the golden epoch. The composition somehow took me back into my own golden years. When all of us were together, co-existing like a blissful bouquet. The flowers of that posy, however, gradually desiccated with time… I took one more sip and immersed deeply into my thoughts. Suddenly my repose was broken when I heard an unmistakable voice echoing from the foyer.
“Gosh. This wind is killing. Nevertheless, this place seems to be warm and cosy and ah. That must be, ‘Take me home country roads’,” said the voice without any pause. I knew whose voice it was. However, his presence at that coordinate was totally unexpected. I immediately figured out that the origin of the sound was a futon, next to the portico, placed at forty-five degrees from where I was seated. I got up and took a turn around the panel and saw; it was indeed Abhijeet Sen, my college senior present right there.
I was seeing him after four long years and measured that he had not changed much. Might be slightly brawnier than before; clear effect of hitting the gym; his contemporary hairdo suited his height and physique. The face had no alteration whatsoever; however, the glasses that he wore were an addition. He was wearing a black leather jacket, a pair of rugged skin-tight jeans and long stylish leather boots. Abhi sir’s dark outfit appeared somewhat oddball on his dusky complexion, but his affinity towards darker shades was perennial. I was happy to see his trademark; the sunshine like laughter was still present. He happened to be the only senior who hailed from my hometown, which was one of the many reasons for my intimacy with him.
I stood there for a couple of minutes, unnoticed, and saw him busy conversing with a young lady, sitting opposite him. I overheard them cursing the blustery weather of the windy city. It seemed that the hardship was posing serious threats to ruin their most memorable trip. Abhi sir was on his honeymoon. I immediately went up to him and tapped on his back. When he turned around, I spoke in a sombre tone, “You got married but never bothered to inform me. I did not expect this from you.”
Abhi sir, taken aback, took a full three seconds to realize that it was really me standing over there. He sprung out of his seat and offered me a warm hug.
“Rishav. Rishav Ganguly. What a pleasant surprise. What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.
“I have been here for the past year and half working on a global assignment,” I updated. “Nevertheless, forget that, I am extremely upset. You simply skipped me.”
“I wanted to inform you Rishav, but I did not have your contact info. No email id, no phone number,” he tried to explain.
“There are ample ways to find them out. Anyways, no point arguing, I can vividly see that I don’t figure into your scheme of things anymore,” I sighed in revulsion.
“For heaven’s sake that’s not true, Rishav,” Abhi sir griped.
The lady, by then was totally confused witnessing all that melodrama. She was very fair, slender and decently tall, sharp featured and had straightened hair up to her shoulders. I noticed her flummox and cursed Abhi sir for not showing even minimum courtesy to introduce me to his better half.
“Oh I am going nuts. Rishav, meet Kavita, my wife. Kavita, this is Rishav.” He quickly did the formalities.
“That’s unfair Abhi sir,” I protested. “How in the world would bhabi ji know who the hell Rishav is?”
Before he could answer, the lady spoke, “I know you very well, Rishav… I have been hearing about each one of you for the last two weeks; everything about Rajeev, Shiv, Amit, you and of course … about Ria,” she chuckled.
I was dumbstruck as she continued, “Abhijeet has not forgotten anyone of you... I know how upset he was when none of you could make it for our wedding.” I saw Abhi sir nodding.
“I am so sorry dada. I was so distressed. These days I just retort too much,” I apologized.
Abhi sir shrugged it off and invited me to join them. After a few minutes of casual discussion, he asked, “How is Ria? Is she here with you? I am sure you guys have tied the knot by now.”
“No dada. Now only her memories are with me,” I said. “In fact I haven’t seen her for more than two years.”
“What do you mean, Rishav?” He looked confused. “Is everything okay?”
“Some memories irk dada. Maybe we will discuss this some other time,” I frowned.
Abhi sir gave me a flabbergasted look. We changed the topic and I asked him the reason for picking such an unusual destination for his honeymoon. Abhi sir responded that being an ardent devotee of Swami Vivekananda, he wanted to witness the venue, where in 1883, the immortal soul delivered his famous speech in front of a college of spiritual leaders and hundreds of ‘brothers and sisters of America’.
Meanwhile Abhi sir started to devour a smoked turkey sandwich. He took a large bite of the bread and commented, “Much better than Malak; what say?”
“You bet. But during those days, that was none lesser than the best of platters that are served even in plush restaurants,” I replied and we both broke into laughter.
“Excuse me. Who is this Malak guy, by the way?” Kavita was curious.
“What Abhi sir? You did not tell her about our saviour. I must say bhabi ji, Malak’s egg burji and onion poha were simply out of the world,” I elucidated. “And of course, food was secondary; his shack, the Tapri, was the hub for countless unforgettable incidents.”
“See Abhi, maybe it’s a small thing, but you missed this one too. You had never mentioned about this guy or the shack, forget about the stories that Rishav just mentioned.” Kavita sounded thwarted. After a pause she added, “I do not know how many more things you have skipped so far. I am fed up with your bits and pieces stories.”
“Why don’t you request Rishav to narrate the complete tale? He is a fantastic story teller.” Abhi sir passed the ball onto my court.
“Come on dada. Give her a break. Why do you want to turn her off on such a special trip?” I objected.
“On the contrary, Rishav, I want to hear it entirely. Abhi’s descriptions are nothing but half-baked. I never had the full grip on the sequence. But in the process, my interest grew manifolds to know about you all, especially about you and Ria. Please Rishav. Will you please narrate it?” Kavita pleaded. I looked towards Abhi sir and his gesture suggested that he was in agreement.
“But it’s quite a lengthy tale; I must warn you that it might take very long.” I spelt a word of caution.
“At least start, Rishav; we are in the US for another ten days. Be our guest during the evenings,” Abhi sir suggested. “Of course, I cannot force you. The choice is entirely yours.”
“Don’t say that dada. You know very well that I won’t refuse,” I said in an embossed tone, “I think I would also enjoy narrating our story. I also need a way that can take me back to those golden days, which are long gone by. I don’t know about the others, but for me it’s lost.” I sighed.
“Start today itself na.” Kavita almost jumped in excitement. Abhi sir just stared at me, perhaps trying to gauge the depth of my sorrow through my eyes.
“Okay if you insist. But where should I start from?” I grinned.
“Begin from the beginning, Rishav,” suggested Abhi sir. “Begin from your counselling day; when you first saw Ria.”
I saw both of them glued to their seats waiting for me to commence. I took a deep breath and slowly regressed towards that unforgettable eon.
Anirban Mukherjee
I was all by myself inside the Starbucks café, occupying a settee facing the street; juxtapose the luxurious Belgian glass casement. It was a Friday evening; I came back from work early, speculating the idea of spending an evening of isolation. Most of my colleagues however, transformed themselves into party animals and chose to attend an intensely hyped New Year bash organized in a famous hotel at the heart of the city. However, I was in no mood to join them and stepped into this coffee bar, located on the famous Chicago loop, trying to save myself from yet another impending snowfall.
I was sipping hot mocha and chomping a Chocó chip cookie, while observing the snowflakes falling all around. I was all alone in America, but my mind was wandering somewhere else. For a moment, I thought I saw ‘her’ familiar figure to cross the street and approach the café’s glass pane. My eyes saw her unmistakable aura reflecting from the icicles hanging from the porch. However, moments later, I realized, it was simply an illusion. No way could this happen. I tried to convince myself; after all, I was miles away from Mumbai. I gazed through the portal again and witnessed another gush of wind hovering across the street, disturbing the fresh mound of snow accumulated besides it. After a while, I pulled out a gold chain from my pocket and gawped at it. It was nothing but an insignificant chain, yet radical, as it often manacled me with those myriad priceless memories
The music system in the café was playing an epic melody from the golden epoch. The composition somehow took me back into my own golden years. When all of us were together, co-existing like a blissful bouquet. The flowers of that posy, however, gradually desiccated with time… I took one more sip and immersed deeply into my thoughts. Suddenly my repose was broken when I heard an unmistakable voice echoing from the foyer.
“Gosh. This wind is killing. Nevertheless, this place seems to be warm and cosy and ah. That must be, ‘Take me home country roads’,” said the voice without any pause. I knew whose voice it was. However, his presence at that coordinate was totally unexpected. I immediately figured out that the origin of the sound was a futon, next to the portico, placed at forty-five degrees from where I was seated. I got up and took a turn around the panel and saw; it was indeed Abhijeet Sen, my college senior present right there.
I was seeing him after four long years and measured that he had not changed much. Might be slightly brawnier than before; clear effect of hitting the gym; his contemporary hairdo suited his height and physique. The face had no alteration whatsoever; however, the glasses that he wore were an addition. He was wearing a black leather jacket, a pair of rugged skin-tight jeans and long stylish leather boots. Abhi sir’s dark outfit appeared somewhat oddball on his dusky complexion, but his affinity towards darker shades was perennial. I was happy to see his trademark; the sunshine like laughter was still present. He happened to be the only senior who hailed from my hometown, which was one of the many reasons for my intimacy with him.
I stood there for a couple of minutes, unnoticed, and saw him busy conversing with a young lady, sitting opposite him. I overheard them cursing the blustery weather of the windy city. It seemed that the hardship was posing serious threats to ruin their most memorable trip. Abhi sir was on his honeymoon. I immediately went up to him and tapped on his back. When he turned around, I spoke in a sombre tone, “You got married but never bothered to inform me. I did not expect this from you.”
Abhi sir, taken aback, took a full three seconds to realize that it was really me standing over there. He sprung out of his seat and offered me a warm hug.
“Rishav. Rishav Ganguly. What a pleasant surprise. What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.
“I have been here for the past year and half working on a global assignment,” I updated. “Nevertheless, forget that, I am extremely upset. You simply skipped me.”
“I wanted to inform you Rishav, but I did not have your contact info. No email id, no phone number,” he tried to explain.
“There are ample ways to find them out. Anyways, no point arguing, I can vividly see that I don’t figure into your scheme of things anymore,” I sighed in revulsion.
“For heaven’s sake that’s not true, Rishav,” Abhi sir griped.
The lady, by then was totally confused witnessing all that melodrama. She was very fair, slender and decently tall, sharp featured and had straightened hair up to her shoulders. I noticed her flummox and cursed Abhi sir for not showing even minimum courtesy to introduce me to his better half.
“Oh I am going nuts. Rishav, meet Kavita, my wife. Kavita, this is Rishav.” He quickly did the formalities.
“That’s unfair Abhi sir,” I protested. “How in the world would bhabi ji know who the hell Rishav is?”
Before he could answer, the lady spoke, “I know you very well, Rishav… I have been hearing about each one of you for the last two weeks; everything about Rajeev, Shiv, Amit, you and of course … about Ria,” she chuckled.
I was dumbstruck as she continued, “Abhijeet has not forgotten anyone of you... I know how upset he was when none of you could make it for our wedding.” I saw Abhi sir nodding.
“I am so sorry dada. I was so distressed. These days I just retort too much,” I apologized.
Abhi sir shrugged it off and invited me to join them. After a few minutes of casual discussion, he asked, “How is Ria? Is she here with you? I am sure you guys have tied the knot by now.”
“No dada. Now only her memories are with me,” I said. “In fact I haven’t seen her for more than two years.”
“What do you mean, Rishav?” He looked confused. “Is everything okay?”
“Some memories irk dada. Maybe we will discuss this some other time,” I frowned.
Abhi sir gave me a flabbergasted look. We changed the topic and I asked him the reason for picking such an unusual destination for his honeymoon. Abhi sir responded that being an ardent devotee of Swami Vivekananda, he wanted to witness the venue, where in 1883, the immortal soul delivered his famous speech in front of a college of spiritual leaders and hundreds of ‘brothers and sisters of America’.
Meanwhile Abhi sir started to devour a smoked turkey sandwich. He took a large bite of the bread and commented, “Much better than Malak; what say?”
“You bet. But during those days, that was none lesser than the best of platters that are served even in plush restaurants,” I replied and we both broke into laughter.
“Excuse me. Who is this Malak guy, by the way?” Kavita was curious.
“What Abhi sir? You did not tell her about our saviour. I must say bhabi ji, Malak’s egg burji and onion poha were simply out of the world,” I elucidated. “And of course, food was secondary; his shack, the Tapri, was the hub for countless unforgettable incidents.”
“See Abhi, maybe it’s a small thing, but you missed this one too. You had never mentioned about this guy or the shack, forget about the stories that Rishav just mentioned.” Kavita sounded thwarted. After a pause she added, “I do not know how many more things you have skipped so far. I am fed up with your bits and pieces stories.”
“Why don’t you request Rishav to narrate the complete tale? He is a fantastic story teller.” Abhi sir passed the ball onto my court.
“Come on dada. Give her a break. Why do you want to turn her off on such a special trip?” I objected.
“On the contrary, Rishav, I want to hear it entirely. Abhi’s descriptions are nothing but half-baked. I never had the full grip on the sequence. But in the process, my interest grew manifolds to know about you all, especially about you and Ria. Please Rishav. Will you please narrate it?” Kavita pleaded. I looked towards Abhi sir and his gesture suggested that he was in agreement.
“But it’s quite a lengthy tale; I must warn you that it might take very long.” I spelt a word of caution.
“At least start, Rishav; we are in the US for another ten days. Be our guest during the evenings,” Abhi sir suggested. “Of course, I cannot force you. The choice is entirely yours.”
“Don’t say that dada. You know very well that I won’t refuse,” I said in an embossed tone, “I think I would also enjoy narrating our story. I also need a way that can take me back to those golden days, which are long gone by. I don’t know about the others, but for me it’s lost.” I sighed.
“Start today itself na.” Kavita almost jumped in excitement. Abhi sir just stared at me, perhaps trying to gauge the depth of my sorrow through my eyes.
“Okay if you insist. But where should I start from?” I grinned.
“Begin from the beginning, Rishav,” suggested Abhi sir. “Begin from your counselling day; when you first saw Ria.”
I saw both of them glued to their seats waiting for me to commence. I took a deep breath and slowly regressed towards that unforgettable eon.
Anirban Mukherjee
