MOCHA

MOCHA

My eyes were bedazzled. I had just seen a couple kiss for the first time in my life. Standing at a corner, holding a tray in my hand, I kept staring at them. They were sitting on a couch half embracing each other, sideways. The guy was playing with the girl’s hair, twirling them into curls. His fingers were caressing her fair skin around the neckline. One of the girl’s hands lay on the guy’s thighs. Every now and then they exchanged looks and smiled. Suddenly she turned and bit the guy’s earlobe. His face twitched a little and then he placed his lips on the girl’s and they kissed again.

“What are you looking at?” Kabir said nudging me with his elbow, breaking my rapture.

“Nothing” I replied, looking at the floor.

“How can someone …”

“This is common at this place. You will get used to it.” Kabir interrupted. He patted on my back and went to attend a call from another table.

My name is Arvind. I am a simple guy and come from a small town. I am not telling you the exact name as you won’t remember it in the same way you won’t remember this story after reading it. I came to Mumbai in search of some work and now I am working at Mocha (a famous coffee chain) as a waiter. Kabir who was born and brought up in Mumbai has been working here for past one year. That was my first day at Mocha. Kabir later told me that this was how Mumbai was. No one bothered the least about what was going around. Everyone is lost in his own world.

There were a lot of other things about Mumbai which I learnt soon. Earlier when I used to walk on the roads, everyone would overtake me. And by everyone I mean everyone; be it men going to their offices, ladies returning from the market with over flowing bags, kids going to school with their back loaded with the burden of a dozen books, and even old people with capacious bellies making home after their walk. Gradually I learnt to keep pace with them. I also learnt how to grab a seat in a local train and how to cross the busiest roads within minimum time. Kabir told me that the secret was never to be afraid, or even if you are, never to let anyone know that you are. Once people know that you are afraid they would never hesitate from trampling over you.

It had been almost one month since I was working at Mocha. The job was easy but still irksome. The place was a little too dark for my liking; and smoky as well from the cigarette and hookah which boys enjoyed, inhaling and exhaling and trying to feign that they were intoxicated and in a different world filled with eternal pleasure. Their artificial faces which loomed through the grey smoke suggested otherwise. The aroma of the place, though, was nice, a soothing blend of coffee, chocolate and vanilla.

I had almost reconciled myself with the new lifestyle of Mumbai, only little did I know that the rhythm was soon going to be disrupted. One day when I was working at Mocha, a girl came and sat at sat at one of my tables. (I say ‘my’ table because the tables are divided among the waiters, each having the responsibility of taking the order at the table allotted to him.) She was very beautiful and was wearing a white salwaar-kurta.

“What would you like to have madam?” I asked with a smile. I was supposed to smile whenever I took an order but perhaps this was the first time that it was not stilted.

“Nothing as of now. Actually I am waiting for someone.” She said smiling back at me. Our eyes met for a second and my heart stopped at that moment. She had large candid eyes and thick eyelashes. I was reminded of the Chinese doll which my uncle had brought from the city for my younger sister.

“Thank you ma’am”, I said and left.

I stood at the corner and kept admiring her hoping that the person she was waiting for gets delayed. But that did not happen.

A guy soon came and sat beside her. I noticed that he had small squinted eyes which would give no inkling of what emotions or intentions hid behind them. He was wearing a cross which hung over his dark leather jacket. By a slight gesture of his finger, he summoned me and ordered two cups of cappuccino.

As they sat and drank, I stared at them, envious of the guy who some how appeared a little shrewd to me, unworthy of the delightful company he was savouring.

“The girl was too innocent and too beautiful to be with a guy like him”, I thought.

“Don’t even think about her. She is like an angel, whom you can not even touch.” Kabir said,

interrupting my stare.

But I had already fallen head over heels for her.

The next few days I was very restless. Kabir kept telling me to forget her. But I could not. I hoped that the girl would come again at my table and that our eyes would meet again and she would reply with the same innocent smile. I also hoped that this time she would not be accompanied by that guy.

My hopes partly came true when I saw the girl enter through the gate to my immense pleasure but unfortunately accompanied by the same guy. They once again sat at the same table. The girl was wearing a sleeveless mauve shirt and jeans.

“What would you like to have ma’am?” I reiterated the well rehearsed question.

“Two cappuccino and a walnut brownie.” The guy ordered, before the girl could speak, in plain emotionless voice. I felt that his voice was similar to his eyes, denying any revelation.

The girl did smile back at me though. But she also smiled with the guy. They laughed together and flirted with each other. Every word which the boy spoke, every move, every gesture he made, every expression on his face appeared well crafted to me.

The second meeting with the girl had made me even more vulnerable. I just kept thinking about her. I tried to think of ways so that she could be mine, and not that phony guy’s; but every time reality sunk in I ended disappointed and frustrated.

One night I was lying down in my bed and thinking about her. I had a cigarette in my hand which remained the only meager source of illumination in my shack after the flickering bulb had surrendered. I inhaled and exhaled and tried to feel the way boys used to after taking puffs of hookah. The girl’s face hovered in front of my eyes behind the cigarette smoke.

“Will you be mine?” I asked her, but she did not reply.

“I don’t like that boy you go out with. You should leave him.” I told her.

I felt that she was about to say something when suddenly the pinch of a mosquito bite on one of my legs disrupted my train of thoughts and her face disappeared. I slapped my leg to kill the mosquito but it flew away in the dark, as if trying to teasing me. Then I realized something. I did not even know the girl’s name. That made me sad.

I kept thinking about her through out the next day. Kabir kept reminding me that I should forget her. It was almost nine in the night and was drizzling outside. And then she came.

She was looking different. Her hair had crinkled slightly due to the rain. She wore a black dress which revealed her legs below the knee. This time they did not sit on my table.

“Kabir, will you do me a favour. May I take the order at your table?” I asked.

“You can not help it. Can you?” He smiled. “Go boy, she is all yours.”

“What would you like to have ma’am?” I asked with a smile.

She smiled back.

“Did she recognize me?” I wondered.

“We will have two cappu…..no, wait.” The guy turned towards the girls and inquired thus with a mischievous smile.

“Let’s have some thing different tonight. May be whisky? What do you say?”

The girl refused.

“Come on.. be a sport. You are slightly wet and it’s cold outside.”

He finally convinced her and they ordered whisky.

I did not like the girl having whisky. The way she was drinking it suggested that she was having alcohol for the first time. They continued drinking and chatting. Then they ordered another whisky. After about an hour, I felt that the girl was beginning to feel it.

I have told you, the guy appeared shrewd to me. But I had never imagined what happened next. The guy tried to kiss the girl. But the girl turned her face. He tried again and she pushed his head away with her hand.

“That bastard is trying to take advantage of the whisky kicking inside the girl.” I thought. My blood was boiling hot. I could hear my heart thumping against my ribs.

“Calm down.” Kabir told me.

I was not listening to him. After a while, the guy tried the same trick again. That was enough for me.

“O.K., that’s it.” I said.

I went to the table and said, “Sir, kindly leave the girl and let her go home.”

The guy was taken aback for a moment. He would never have thought that he would be interrupted by a waiter. But he was too experienced a player to be bogged down upon by such an interruption, and in a moment he regained his composure.

“Be in your limits and mind your own business. Why do you care what I do with my girlfriend?” He replied in a stern voice.

“But I don’t find your girlfriend comfortable with what you are doing?”

“Shut up! And get lost.”

“Sir I am not getting lost until you leave the girl.”

“What the hell do you think of yourself you bastard?” He shouted and threw the remaining whisky on my face. Every one was looking at me including the girl. She was stunned.

The manager came running.

“What is the problem sir?” he asked.

“Why don’t you better ask your waiter? And teach him some manners.”

The manager asked me but his words were falling on deaf ears. My ears were red.

“We are leaving.” The guy said.

“Please don’t go sir”, the manager said. “I apologize on his behalf and I give you the assurance that you will never see him here again.”

But he did not stop. He picked the girl grabbing her hand and then they walked past me.

As the girl passed by me, being dragged by her wretched boyfriend, I noticed through the corner of my eyes that she was looking at me with a hint of admiration. The manager was scolding me but I didn’t care anymore.

That was the last time our eyes met.

The next day as I sat on my bed contemplating about what happened, Kabir came to my home.

“You should not have done what you did.”

“And, why not?” I enquired.

“Because that was of no use.”

“Don’t say that it was of no use.”

“You tell me what was the use of what you did there. Do you think you are a saviour. Or do you think that the girl was so impressed that she would return back to you. Get some sense you idiot. You have lost your job as well. It is not easy to get a job in Mumbai.” He was speaking to me like a concerned teacher.

I, like a bad student though had no answer.

It has been six months past that incidence. Kabir was right. It is not easy to get a job in Mumbai. After trying hard for three months I did get a job though. Now I am a waiter in a pub. The place is not very different from Mocha apart from the aroma which was good there. It is dark, smoky and the smells like a mixture of various hard drinks. One day the same girl came again to the bar. For a moment I was delighted. Then I saw that she was accompanied by another guy. He was not the same guy but was similar. Especially the eyes were same, small and squinty. They sat at one of my tables. I did not go to take the order immediately. I waited where I stood. Then I called a fellow waiter and said-

“Will you do me a favour? Will you take the order at my table?”