The Little known Cafe - A Short Story

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For most of his life, he enjoyed living alone. He was kind, courteous and with a warm smile. He was a little over forty. He had no complaints. He had learned to enjoyed his forsaken solitude. He had to. He was a writer. His profession required him to sit for hours by himself staring at a blank paper or screen, building stories, and weaving it’s elements together. He was good at his job with a lot of publishers chasing him enabling a steady income. In a good mood, he painted words that felt like fine wine and soft music to his readers. He also kept himself in shape by going to the gym and you would often find him exploring different cuisines at restaurants and also trying them at home. He believed experimental cooking awakens all senses at once, enhancing his creative side and helping him write better.

Every day he sat down at his writing desk which stood against the wall in his study. It was a fine desk and a place that made him tick and stories came dancing out every time. A pile of books stacked one above the other, the books from all his favourite writers, stood there on the corner of the table. He always felt the books staring at him each time he sat down to write. Their voice ricocheting, every time he was struck by writer’s block, what he called the dead end.

Wednesdays were different. He would drive over the longest bridge running across his city, to go to a cafe which stood by the flowing river. It was a small cafe, unknown to many. It was just as he wanted. Tranquil, quiet that he loved and just a single sound — flowing river, clear water over rocks, with some distant chattering. The cafe was comfortable and found it exceptionally located. They did not play any music nor did they have comfortable soft cushioned chairs. But the chairs were perfect for him. It was perfect for reading. Not too hard or too soft. And there is nobody around. I don’t think you would find people on a weekday, a Wednesday, walking in and out of an insignificant cafe buying local coffee. Even if they did, they would walk up to the nearest Starbucks or Costa.

So mid-week, you would find him in the little known cafe, drowned himself in a book, from half-past ten to half-past one. And when the clock strikes, he makes his way to the nearest restaurant and savours a delicious meal all by himself.

On that particular Wednesday morning, he was reading, as usual, in the nearly empty cafe. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. He read it many years ago, and when he spied it on his old bookshelf, he decided to re-read it again. He loved doing that. Again, he found himself completely absorbed into the story, as though it was his first read.

After an hour’s concentrated reading, he puts his book down to rest his eyes, only to see a woman seated on the next table, who was also reading. It took him by a surprise. Imagine on a weekday morning, in a deserted cafe, two people sitting beside each other and reading a book unknown of each other’s presence. He had never met anyone like that. Not until now. This was a strange and startling encounter, which surprised both of them. He would always remember this day. The day he met the women with intellect, an avid reader and artist by profession. That is what he remembered. The woman was confident, smart and at the same time very intriguing.

They had lunch together at a nearby restaurant and shared their similar interest, reading. They had light lunch and talked about the books they’d read, and the author’s they adored. They spoke uninterrupted for hours until they realised they had to call it a day.

Next week again, as he sat at the cafe reading, she turned up. They sat across the room, and read with no interruptions until the end of their reading session. He walked over to her, and like the week before they to a nearby restaurant to have lunch. As they had their Ravioli pasta and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc wine, they talked about general things. Things, they usually do not discuss with anyone. Perhaps, it came out in his writing and hers depicting in her art.

This went on for a couple of months. Something had clicked between them. Not the kind of thing that happens all the time. Each time he went back home, terrible loneliness swept over him. He had never felt this way talking to anybody. He had not spoken to anyone so openly in years. He had always kept to himself in his world of writing.

There was something unique about the woman. She was not like any he met in his life so far. They liked the same books and writer, the restaurants, the same cuisines. The coincidence was hard to ignore. As usual, one fine Wednesday, he decided to share his feelings with her. He could no longer contain it in his heart. He was not able to focus on his writing, which is by in itself a rare occurrence. He had started having sleepless nights.

The day arrived, and he went to the cafe. But, she never turned up. Not that week, not the next, not the week after that either. She never returned. Without saying anything — without a warning — she disappeared.

Later some time, in the middle of the night, he woke up. The writer was suddenly gripped with fear. Maybe it was the moonlight or the fear of being distraught. No. It was something else. With every passing minute, he felt himself sinking deeper, into the sand, with no one to rescue him. His identity vanishing. The glow of real life was missing. He was alone once again, with no one to talk to, share things with, have lunch with, none. None at all. He was back to being a lost, lonely, loner, in the light of life. He felt barely alive. He did nothing to feel alive.

He looked around. He says to himself it was just a dream. Of course, it was. The thoughts were all in his head. He always lived inside his head. With all the made-up characters and the stories he wrote. Stop thinking. Stop thinking of dark thoughts, he told himself aloud. As if trying to avoid the fear of loneliness staring, ready to engulf him. You are just tired, overwrought, he thought. The wave of fear shall pass. The panic, the lucid vision from the dream shall fade.

He talks himself to sleep, in his head, again. My search will continue — somewhere. I won’t stop. I won’t stop until I find it. A search, a treasure hunt that will give me a hint to find me the missing element of life. Hoping search takes him where he’s likely to find it.

©Shweta, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Book Review - I Know Why the Caged Birds Sings!

Source - Shweta's phone

Title: I know why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

Language: English
Genre: Autobiography, Biography
Pages: 289
Rating: 4/5

Excerpt:

This book is an autobiography of Marguerite Johnson, pen name Maya Angelou written in 1969. It is poetic and has a powerful diction capable of touching the stoned hearts of the ages and change minds. This book keeps one pondering about how gruesome the world has treated the coloured people and scarred them in ways one cannot imagine.
The memoir recounts Maya's life experiences, through her adolescent years with reflections about growing up black and female during the Great Depression.

My thoughts :
A must-read for any of Maya Angelou's fans. A summary of the book, cannot do justice to the true note of incidents. One has to read it to feel the experience of the writer's life in the poetic narration and appreciate the essence of life and sensitivity with which life threads are woven.


©Shweta, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Becoming — Obama’s Reign - Book Review

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Title: Becoming by Michelle Obama

Language: English
Genre: Self-help/Motivational
Pages: 400
Rating: 4/5

Excerpt: Grief and resilience live together

The idea of a black woman as the First lady of the US was unthinkable over a decade ago. The country's history always reminded people of the place for a black woman and white woman are different. In such a backdrop, it is difficult to imagine such a thing happening. There has been constant discrimination in the history; ‘white lady restrooms’ within a building and a separate one for ‘coloured women’. The coloured were not called out honorifically and looked down upon for generations. "Becoming", came close to decoding the 2000's where Michelle becomes the First lady in 2008 & once again in 2012, with the weight of this demeaning history.

My Thoughts: I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book. It is inspirational and intriguing to take a peek into the life of First Lady. Michelle is fierce in giving the details of her journey. The book has two perspectives. One, where Michelle’s role was never defined beyond a silver lining since she married the man — Barack Obama. Secondly, it can be seen as a book in which Michelle takes the world by the hand on a first-hand tour of everyday Afro-American life and aspiration.

©Shweta, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Hop, Shop and a Leap - A Short Story

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Endless bills pour in the mailbox, which sits in the driveway, regardless of wind and rain. Claire was fighting the urge to buy a great pair of high red pumps, one last time. Another bill won’t do any harm, she thought. There was this endless need for her to buy things no matter what happens in her life, the sky falls, the rain is pouring or the banks are chasing her to pay the credit card bills.

As the year was coming to an end, she wanted a miracle in her life, that will change her life. She has been waiting for, praying for, some kind of top-down change, but now she knows it won’t happen that way. She was fooling herself all along she thought it will.

“I can’t live like this, not anymore”, she cried out loud, stark naked with her emotions being honest with herself instead of swallowing all the things she said to herself earlier — “I don’t care,” “ It is a great stress buster”, “It is a delight to shop”, party line, the famous ones people got away with.

As the year was closing, when the clock struck at midnight, she dug into her purse, with a pair of scissors, and cuts all the cards- credit card, visa, master, corporate, and whatever that is that allowed her to take credit, which has accumulated over the years of a crazy drive of materialism, right through the middle, cutting it into two halves.

Perhaps there will still be people out there chasing that lifestyle we’ve been groomed for from childhood to crave, accumulate, buy more, that life equals consumption, success equals consumption!

© Shweta, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Lost in Reverie

“You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it.” ―Robin Williams

clever-visuals-unsplash

Imagination! 

“Imagine” my cherished word. 

I have always loved imagining things. Even today, I imagine various story outlines or elements and think about how notions could be divergent from the regular.

That place is filled with friendly faces and peaceful charms. The atmosphere is electrifying with positive energy. I am at the verge of laughter by the end of it. All that is needed is “somewhere else” being me. I can reveal my rough edges and still be welcomed with tenderness. There are no tight muscles in my stomach, or no raised eyebrows, no interrogations or reprimanded for being there. No picking on every inflexion or any antics. Please, don’t bother me right now. I am “somewhere else, in my imaginary world".

Imagination for me has always been a fun and engaging activity. Just imagining outside the usual is so rewarding. I see it this way, we get to visualise how things could be different if a given variable changed. I grew up listening and reading a lot of stories, so I always lived a lot in my head imagining  — the stories, the characters and the entire surroundings. The feeling is magical. Over the years, I extended it to my real life.

We all live in a certain way, we have our schedule, we have our patterns. But what if we suddenly decided to change it all at once? What if we made a new choice in life? Move to a new country, change job, or a city, or even our eating habits, changing our chain of events, perhaps exactly how the COVID-19 lockdown has pushed us to our extremes? What if we imagined something different? Something… less limiting perhaps with endless possibilities.

It is usually a random series of event, and thoughts or situation, from any of our senses which crop from any stimuli — reading, talking, watching or just another event. Imagining yourself in the other person’s shoes and dreaming of yourself there.

Our mind is a fertile ground of creativity. Be it from instinct or serendipity, an open brain is alert for new possibilities, a collection of precious new seeds waiting to grow, waiting to be watered and nurtured. Imagination leading to creativity is combining what is in search of truth and discovery. Both call for freedom and a sense of emotional safety, always.

Isn’t it intriguing how we always want to expand our capabilities and challenge ourselves, cutting through all limitations or anything that chains us down? I always sensed a rebel in my heart. Perhaps, it must be our soul, which is separate from the mind, rebelling against limitations. That is why we want to change reality, or imagine different things and dwell in it, living an imaginary, creative life.

Imagination is where you live in your own world
Your desires appear as if living in a fantasy
the ‘you’ whom you want to be
the things you despair to have
Everything you want to have
or everything you don’t want to be

©Shweta, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda - A Short Story

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As she was embraced by the beauty sleep when the sky turned orange at the sunrise, her alarm went off.

She snoozed it, she was not motivated to get out of the bed.

She wanted to sleep longer, like each morning. She managed to get out of the bed. Sam, went straight into the kitchen to boiled the kettle for that morning, already filled to the brim with water and tea leaves, she busied herself getting the cups and teabags ready. Keeping her distracted, she took another quick glance at the clock of the oven only to confirm that time was slowing down, as her stomach knotted up.

Like any other day, Sam had unattended feelings under the surface, mixed with anxiety and nervousness. Of late, she has been feeling the knot in the stomach, not used to the combination, it’s truly odd and melancholy.

Art, her hobby gave her happiness, art takes her up and anxiety about the future brings her down, so in that combination, she simply focuses on boiling the tea, to shake off the feelings.

Today, it was different after all, maybe perhaps even dreading for Sam. She has been waiting for this day, but she felt the pit of her stomach tightly knotted. Perhaps it’s the same for everyone starting anything new, pleasure at gaining forward momentum, and fear blinding change and uncertainty.

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It is a lot of hard work, but worth it, she thought. She could have started any business I knew, but painting was her passion, it always relaxed her and her regular job was a natural choice, for paying the bills, rent, groceries and whatever. She painted and decorated her walls and garage in the fresh colours of the new season each year and accessorize her rooms with accent colours. The 9 to 5 job can be dull, monotonous even, but it resulted in all the motivation she always needed. It’s tough starting out, taking a chance out there, but she felt reassured, in time her reputation will bring in all the success and business she needs.

© Shweta, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Book Review - Big Magic By Elizabeth Gilbert

"The universe buries strange jewels deep within us all, and then stands back to see if we can find them"

                                                          

Title: Big Magic By Elizabeth Gilbert
Language: English
Genre: Self-help/Motivational
Pages: 288
Rating: 5/5

Excerpt: Creative Living Beyond Fear

The book encourages readers to pursue their passion, their inner "Magic” to live creatively, which does not necessarily mean pursuing it professionally or exclusively devoted to the career of arts, but living a life that self-motivated to feed the curiosity than by fear of self or others. It could be anything - write or act or paint, start something of your own, this book wants to help you do that. But if you want to take figure skating, or skiing or learn some new skill, this book wants to help you do that too.

Big Magic is divided into 6 sections: Courage, Enchantment, Permission, Persistence, Trust and Divinity.

Each chapter opens up sharing her experiences about how she fights her fear or draws motivation from the universe, and sustains self-belief in keeping the inner spirit alive. Gilbert encourages us to uncover the “hidden jewels” she calls magic within each of us, waiting to be discovered.

My thoughts:

A must-read for readers of all ages and walks of life. I have reread this book at least 4 times completely and many more times in parts too. I have drawn inspiration from this book and it keeps me going. The book digs deep into the consciousness of the reader to inspire one about the perspective of creativity.

Personally, this book will always be the one I will reach out for, each time I find myself in the need to be motivated or look for inspiration in my pursuit of creativity. Reading Elizabeth Gilbert's book Big Magic has never failed to comfort me. I feel happy even if it is one chapter or one section, which I need to remind myself, to follow my muse,i.e. living a creative living.

©Shweta, 2020. All Rights Reserved.