From & To Sathish #7- Page 135

Time travel

A few years ago, I and a few childhood friends met up for dinner at Ranjith hotel. When I say childhood, it is literally true for I have known all of them from my 4th std in Krishnaswamy Matriculation school, Sterling road.

This practice of meeting up for dinner at Ranjith hotel became a yearly practice and it all began when our dear friend Suresh flew into Chennai from London and reached out to all of us and at the same time co-ordinated the time and the place and yes, the day.

So, its been a kind or yearly ritual for all of us to meet up at Ranjith hotel which was very convenient for a few of us. Because they allow booze along with dinner.

I sat amongst my friends and yet it felt like I was sitting amongst children, and despite being in the present, I sat looking at all of them having travelled back to the past.

A few began sipping at their scotches and Vodkas while I and another friend attacked the chilled beer.

Then taking a sip, and placing the tall, heavy glass down on the table, I watched as the adults began bullying each other with silly old tales.

I stared at my glass and watched as warm air collided with the chilled glass, and watched with fascinated eyes as water condensing on the glass slowly slid down the smooth surface as tiny rivulets coming down a glacier.

Something in the distance, in the far corner of the hall caught my eye, and squeezing my old eyes, I tried zooming into the table and saw a couple sitting across the table, with their arms on the table and their head close to each other over the table.

A glass of fresh fruit juice with two straws would have completed the picture like a red cherry topping a lovely white cake but something are just not meant to be.

I watched as tears poured down the young girl's face and from just a brief look at the guy and the way he kept shrugging his shoulders, and spreading his hands ( what can I do or what do you want me to do. I don't feel anything for you anymore ) it was obvious to me that they were breaking up.

My eyes returned to my beer glass in the foreground and right in front of me, and after a few seconds flicked to the crying girl in the background.

The water condensed on the glass and ran down making their own paths down the mug of chilled beer. Our pain, unspeakable grief and sorrow condenses as tears and flows down as rivers from our eyes.