The Wait - II

It was a bright Kolkata morning, with the birds twittering in the trees. She turned at the corner, swept a lock of her face. She wasn't strikingly beautiful yet a touch more than pretty. She was dressed in a yellow Salwar Kameez holding onto her Dupatta which kept being blown around by the wind.

She walked into the restaurant and sat at the corner table. The newspaper guy turned back to his stand. There was a guy with a camera in his hand who too seemed to not take away his eyes from the lady.

The newspaper guyy cleared his throat. The guy with the camera turned with a sheepish expression.

'Uh..., Times'

The newspaper guy gave him the paper and his change.

'Every day the same thing'

'Excuse me..'

'Well Every morning she comes and sits at the same table in the same corner of the restaurant. Then when it's evening she goes back'

'Every day?'

'Yaa, every day'

'For how long?'

'About a month'

'Why?'

'I don't know.'

The guy with a camera was a reporter who could sniff out an important story. He walked into the restaurant and tried to strike up a conversation with the lady who just looked away. He immediately clicked a picture.

The next morning the paper guy was most surprised to find the photo of the restaurant lady in the newspaper and that too on the first page. There was a column by a person who wrote about the mystery lady who for more than a month had been sitting at the same table in the same restaurant just waiting. The author left the ending open.
The article said '... What is she waiting for? a lover who jilted her? Who would do such a thing in such a great city?'

The next day the newspaper guy was unloading his newspapers from the autorickshaw when a news van drove up to the restaurant. A news crew unloaded their equipment in a hurry. The lady turned the corner to find an entire camera crew with a reporter trying to stick his mike into her face. She gave him a stare that had him out of the way instantly and then walked back to the table.

That evening the news channel did an exclusive on the lady by the table. They spoke about the pain, the suffering that was seen in those beautiful eyes. About how she walked to the restaurant from her house about 100 metres away to the same restaurant. About how she hardly spoke to anyone.

The girls name was Anjali and she was 23 years old. She had just completed her masters in science. There was an interview with her college principal who had wonderful things to say about her which was odd because she had joined about two months back. There was another interview with a friend who hinted about some deep dark thing which may have caused this. She did not mention what but she was a friend and friends never tell.

The next day the newspaper guy added a refrigerator to his stand. It was a gift from a manufacturer and fitted in snugly with the chips stand. The area was teeming with news vans with reporters from multiple channels. The news channel added to it's previous coverage with interviews from friends and relatives. Anjali's father and mother were most polite to the reporters but refused to open their doors though the neighbours complied most beautifully.

By the next day the local corporator had promised to get justice for the lady, though he hardly got any airtime thanks to the human welfare minister. The expert on woman psychology got a new hairdo and a coat of make up just before she spoke about how the trauma of seperation or the trauma of not getting a job or the trauma of not being admitted to a foreign university could have caused this reaction.

That night people began a candle light vigil outside her house. Students from the music academy just across the restaurant joined in with music performances. The wall outside her building was adorned with signatures from a zillion people.

The news people were getting worried. the lady had caused a spike in ratings but the lack of soundbytes was hurting. There were already articles in the newspaper about the media circus. That evening they managed to track down a maternal uncle who hinted that she had a wicked streak as a kid about how she took pleasure in harming little creatures.

However the next morning a kid from a village in Andhra mistakenly fell into a pit. The news crews vanished from outside the restaurant. The newspaper guy had just added a sandwich toaster to his stall when this happened. He cursed the little kid on his TV. The kid had probably ensured for a comfortable life for himself and his family for the rest of their life. Just if he could find some ditch or well where he could get his son trapped without hurting him. Pity his son was so fat.

The lady walked past the gate adorned with now fading posters past the musicians who did not seem as sympathetic as earlier. She was dressed in a red salwar today and was looking as pretty as always. The newspaper guy looked at the lady who had almost paid for his retirement then turned to his shop figuring out how to return all the unsold stock.

The lady went in and sat at the corner table and looked out of the window as always. She sat there for over an hour when finally a waiter came to her table gingerly balancing a half filled cup of vile looking coffe and placed it on her table.

She turned to look at him.

He stared back at her and most nonchalantly shrugged. This was Kolkata, service could take some time.



- Pranay Rao