Again

Hill top cafe was littered with salt and pepper, dyed and bald heads. The city was rightly famous as a sunset point with retirees gathered to get a piece of nature and some peace. On Sundays it was busiest and people came to read for pleasure and stayed for evening tea and book club. Today was a book launch and the subject was close to his heart and to those around. The book title - In search of the Again. He introduced her and the book, inviting her to say a few words. She gracefully walked up to  to the podium and started. 

After my husband’s death this book was what kept me going. You keep wishing for retirement to finally rest and enjoy life. However when it does happen there is this sudden haunting feeling of loneliness, of silence and restlessness. Your body stops doing certain things and a certain jerk or surprise movement could lame you for days coupled with multiple doctor visits. You feel frail and the loud energy of youth starts bothering you. 

This book was keeping me sane. All those years of writing for my job I couldn’t manage time to write for myself. Assignments, deadlines, sucked my creativity and the joy of writing was replaced with doing a good job. Now when I found an abundant time the story seemed blurry. It was there somewhere but I couldn’t put my finger to it. What was I missing. The dust of time and the fading pictures kept the memories dormant. 

My daughter encouraged me to live a little. Get out, visit new places, meet new people and experience new cultures. I knew where I had to go. Not anywhere new but my old love - the city I grew up in. Little did I know that the visit to this quaint cafe in Mumbai would lead me to my inspiration. The funky chalk board with a quirky pun  pulled me in with a craving that seemed ages old. It said -  ‘B-ready for pudding up with us’ 

It was l easy. The way we met. The simple conversation. The shared glances. The strangeness and the familiarity. This freedom comes after a certain age, when confusion of youth moves away like clouds on a clear day. There was anxiety but not the separation we felt back then. This was the happy anxiety of finding a lost treasure but not knowing what to do with it. 

It’s not over till it really is. So let’s live like we are unfinished, again and again. I hope you love reading this book as much as I cherished writing it. 

She walked off the stage and took her seat at the authors signing table.  People started queuing and she entertained them gracefully signing her name on their copies. In between the signing she would keep wiping the table, an old habit when she is nervous. I can’t write a book about us but I am glad we met again. 

The Cafe

_{Note: We were shown the short film - ‘The Cafe’ as a prompt and an assignment to write further - where the ending is the beginning. After deliberating for inspiration this wonderful story came to me.}