The Cara Coffee Bar: Chapter One

At the crossroads, I spotted her strolling towards the Cara Coffee Bar. It was her petite frame and carefree attitude that helped me to recognize her from a distance. I would certainly run after her but I was with Mom in a taxi. Mom had an appointment with Dr. Mukherjee, which she had been waiting for a month.

“Nowadays you aren’t taking care of me as earlier,” Mom said

I couldn’t understand why she was telling me like that so I asked her, “How have you concluded?”

“Because you have forgotten to have an appointment with Dr. Mukherjee for me which I had asked you many days ago.”

“I have not forgotten. I was there yesterday but couldn’t get the appointment as she is abroad.”

Mom looked at me affectionately and said, “I was just teasing you as I am confident you must have inquired about it.”

“Thanks, Mom, for having confidence in me,” I said.

Mom laughed to listen to my formal tone of saying and I also joined her into her laughter.

Whether in clinics or hospitals, it always gives me uneasiness, although I am aware of its necessity in our lives. In recent years, the reputation of hospitals has been on the decline because of their highly commercial attitude that often overshadows humanity, which had been considered an integral part of the health sector and, for that reason, godliness was seen in the service of doctors.

I visited the clinic several times before having an appointment with Dr. Mukherjee for Mom. I was satisfied that it was scheduled in the morning on Saturday as I had planned to visit the library on Sunday.

Mom was pleased to have confirmation of the appointment.

“It’s fine. I will take this opportunity to see Urmila as I have been missing her since our meeting last year. Her house is in the same lane.”

“Yes. I know. It will be better if we visit Urmila Aunty on the way returning from the clinic,” I suggested.

Mom agreed to my suggestion instantly.

On Friday, a day before the appointment with the doctor Mom asked me for the wrapping paper.

“Don’t forget to bring the wrapping paper from the store near your university,” she reminded me when I was getting ready for the university.

“Are you going to give a gift to Dr. Mukherjee,” I asked her laughing.

She didn’t mind and replied, “I don’t feel it is possible in my lifetime.”

“Then why are you so worried about the wrapping paper?”

“I want to give a pleasant surprise to Urmila.”

I was curious about the gift so I asked, “What kind of a gift do you have in mind for Urmila Aunty?

She smiled and replied, “It will be revealed to you in the evening when you come home from the university with a lovely wrapping paper.”

After having dinner, Mom asked me to come to her room. I saw an old book in her hand.

She showed me the title of the book. It was Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina.

“Mom, do you think Aunty will be pleased to receive an old book from you? If you want to give her Anna Karenina as a gift, give her a new print of the book,” I said with disappointment as I was not happy with the choice of Mom for the gift.

“You are right at your place because you don’t know why I am gifting the book to Urmila?”

“What’s special about the book?” I asked.

She opened the book and showed me the page where something was written in hand. I read it carefully, someone had presented the book to Urmila Aunty long ago with the wordings, ‘Dearest Urmila, hope you will like it, with love.’

“Do you know who has written this?” I asked.

“Of course, I know. Her father had presented the book to Urmila on her eighteenth birthday, a day before he died in an accident. I still remember Urmila being very possessive of the book as it was the departing gift from her father but one day it mysteriously disappeared.”

“But how is the book with you?”

“You will not believe I bought it from a grocery store last week. How sad? It was going to be used for groceries.”

Mom was serious, but it amused me to think how I would react if someone came up with his television serials with the title, Tolstoy In A Grocery Store.

I didn’t share the funny imagination with Mom in the apprehension of her angry look and, came back silently to my room after helping her wrap the gift. 

When we reached the taxi stand for a ride, the clouds were hovering over the sky. Mom looked at the sky and said, “The rain is a good sign, I always wait for it.”

I preferred to be silent on the subject as I was afraid that rain would contribute to worsening the traffic. 

Earlier, Mom was never happy to visit the clinic, but for the first time, I saw her pleased and willing to go there.

Quickly I realized her happiness and willingness were not for the clinic but for Urmila Aunty.

When our taxi came at the signal of the crossroads on the way to the clinic, I noticed her, and my eyes followed her as far as possible, eluding from the observation of Mom sitting beside me. 

The appointment was at 11.30 AM but our turn came around noon. I asked Mom when she came out of the chamber, “Has the doctor prescribed some new medicines?”

“No. She has advised me to continue the same medicine and consult her next month.”

“Give me the prescription and wait at the reception. Let me buy the medicine from the chemist, “I said to Mom and proceeded to the chemist after receiving the old prescription from her.

All the prescribed medicines were not available from the chemist inside the clinic, so I decided to buy the rest of the medicine from the chemist near home. 

We reached the house of Urmila Aunty in the afternoon. I pressed the doorbell twice, but there was no response. Mom told me to wait. We waited for fifteen minutes but no one responded.

At last, I knocked on the door. The door opened and Urmila Aunty appeared before us. She welcomed us with a smile.

“Sorry. The doorbell has gone out of order this morning,” she said and took Mom in her arms.

Her living room was like a big hall. We settled on the sofas.

“Sheila has gone to market, and I have to talk with your Mom a lot, so you have to serve the cold drinks,” Urmila Aunty asked me, pointing to the kitchen.

I went to the kitchen and brought the coke from the fridge.

Meanwhile, Sheila, the maid came from the market and served snacks to us.

I thought that Mom had forgotten about the gift in the course of gossiping but I was wrong.

“I have a gift for you,” Mom said taking out the packet from her handbag.

“Was there any need for it?” Urmila Aunty asked accepting the packet from Mom.

“You will get the answer after opening it,” Mom said looking into her eyes.

“If it is so, I am opening it right now,” Urmila Aunty said removing the wrapping.

She looked at her father’s handwritten words in the book and sobbed. We were shocked to note that her sobbing gradually intensified into crying. Sheila came running to her but returned to the kitchen when we requested her to do so.

Mom was nervous to see her in tears. Her tears were continuously coming down from her eyes and wetting her face.

After having succeeded in controlling her emotions, she asked Mom, “How did you get it?”

Mom narrated in detail how she bought it from a grocery store.

“Unbelievable. After so many years it came back to me.”

“How did you lose it for which you were so concerned about?”

“My mother had asked me to throw it away because of her belief that it was unlucky, as my father died the next day after he gifted it to me. But it was precious to me as a last gift from my father so I hid it under the stake of old newspapers and couldn’t get it again. Now I realize it would have been sold out with old newspapers to the scrap dealer.”

We were getting late so we asked for her permission and came out of her house but couldn’t reach home before midnight as roads were flooded with rainwater. 

I saw her for the first time on a rainy day on our department campus. Her steps on the path submerged in rainwater were steady and firm, hardly bothered by the continuous rain. I was mesmerized by the innate rhythmic movement of her beautiful feet, gleefully playing with the rain.

A few students were in the department due to the heavy rain in the city. I had to submit the assignment that day without fail, so I was there.

All classes were suspended. A few students like me were there getting ready to go out from the campus with their raincoats or umbrellas.

I had been secretly observing her steps with admiration. Undoubtedly, she was beautiful. But it was her uncommon confidence that attracted me more than her prettiness.

She caught me off guard, coming straight to me. I looked at her in astonishment when she asked, “Are you in the final year?”

“Yes”- I replied.

“Do you know Robin?”

“If you mean Robin Rey, I do. He is my classmate and friend. “

She looked at me keenly and smiled.

“Where is he?”

“He has not come to the department today.”

“He had attended the classes yesterday?”

“Yesterday was a holiday. He had attended the classes the day before yesterday.”

“It’s all right, Harish,”- she said, waved her hands and left.

 I was surprised to hear my name from a stranger. How did she know my name? Who she was?