Flames and Circles

Flames and Circles

This place always makes me write a post. But when this time I entered that huge gate, I was wearing a never before smile on my face. I crossed some tables to reach a familiar old table and sat there. With me were two of my friends who being a couple needed a space I was ready to offer. I turned towards the big screen above the entrance gate and looked into it to register a familiar tune and video. Same car hits the same girl in their plan to steal the same red stone. Nopes… no old chords struck. With a deepening smile, I looked around…. And I asked Nandu.

Is there any seat in this place where we never sat?

Umm… I guess not… or maybe that one in the corner hidden away from the screens.

Oh ya of course… we would have preferred to stand over sitting there.

We both smiled. It’s not tough to estimate the number of times we have been to this place. What’s tough is to comprehend why this place is so special for us. I didn’t want to be recognized by the waiters… I am glad none of them recognized me, maybe because I was too calm… A lot of things have changed ever since I left Bangalore and revisited a year back. What all has changed is again something difficult to connect and explain. But the effect is that I don’t like Bangalore anymore. Maybe because most of my friends have either left this place or got married, or maybe because I have just grown bored of this place. Other than Nandu there’s nothing fun about this place anymore….

And I gazed up at the flames. Still the same, this would be zillionth time I was looking up at the flame shaped protrusions in the ceiling. And I looked at the circles on the front wall. Nothing has changed about this place. The flames and circles are the same, the air is the same, the music is the same, even the crowd is familiar. And I looked at Nandu… he looks the same… head banging slowly as ever. I looked at Vatsala, switching gaze between Nandu and the screen perhaps wondering what makes people bang their heads.

And then I thought… not everything is the same here. At least one person in this ecosystem has changed and grown out of this place. I noticed Nandu looking at me.

The songs are the same; the crowd is crazy as ever, what’s wrong with him (wrong?)?

And then I gulped down from my mug and joined him in the ritual much to his delight.

This was not the first time when I entered this place confused but indeed the first time when I exited this place the same. As I walked out of that gate, it felt as if I am not shutting the gate but closing something else. The back cover of a book maybe… This place is a goddamned biography of mine. Each table is a chapter with a random account of numerous events that have touched my life. Each stool, sofa or chair is occupied by one of the ghosts of my past, either happy or bruised.

I turned around and looked up at the neon flaunting the name Purple Haze… This may very well be the last time I visit this place. This wasn’t a resolution or something, but an honest voice from inside. And I turned around to walk towards an auto. I couldn’t help but notice the traces of same smile on my face…