Bar Room Musings

“If I know you, would you, know me?

 If I know you, would you, know me?”

The song kept on straining in my head as I reached for another pint. There was a time when beer was enticing, when the prospect of free beer could get a lot of things accomplished. Now, it does nothing to me apart from adding layers on the fat already accumulated from my beer chugging days.
How I missed a good whiskey on ice slowly melting away to oblivion in the grip of my clumsy fingers. But I wanted to lay off the hard stuff for a few days after the supreme drunken state of affairs that unfolded on New Year’s. I took a swig and looked across the pub.

“You know I know how, to make them stop and stare as I slow down

the club can’t even handle me right now.”

That was the lyric which was actually buzzing in reality, clashing with the ones inside my head. The entire pub was clashing with the world inside my head.
“Let’s go smoke for a while” said my friends and we walked into the small smoking room at the back. I don’t normally smoke, but I wanted a drag because, well, I know how to stare a cigarette in the flame and flirt without getting committed.

As I walked in, my eyes met him. He was with his friends and they seemed to be the ones responsible for making it un-breathable inside there. I could feel his eyes linger as I went and stood beside him (out of compulsion of course, or may be not?). Our shoulders brushed, smoke in between, we exchanged further glances. I tried to be cheery with my friends, the way I normally react (or overreact) when I don’t know what to feel or do. A few laughs, and raunchy jokes later I stepped out of there, and I could still feel his gaze introspecting over me. I turned around just a wee bit to make sure, and let’s just say, “it’s evident” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Don’t go, tell me that the lights won’t change

tell me that you’ll be the same...” 

The song in my head started to get intense, I could hear every nuance, every turn of the beat throbbing within me.  I sat down at our booth and charted my growth the past year. I seemed to be a pro at cracking stupid jokes overtly with people, yet carrying on deep conversations with myself in my head, all at the same time.

“Oh you wanted to meet her so you can rub it in her face, what she’s missing out on,” Laughter ensues. Everyone loves a little bit of subtle innuendo with their beer buzz.

And whilst I was on the subject of rub it in on people’s faces, my head swiftly linked it to the monologue that has ensued in my head. I thought of all the small yet significant things I had accomplished, how I’d fought the downfalls of the year before the previous one, how I had made it apparent to certain people that I can do things without them, survive without them, and in a much MUCH better manner. And then at that moment, the door of the smoking room opened and he stepped out. He immediately caught my gaze and held it.

“All we need is somebody to lean on”

I have to admit, this one makes me groove. I mean, c’mon! But tonight, the song in my head had invaded its way into my tissues, latched on to my membranes and wouldn’t let go. I don’t like clingy people or clingy songs. But I’d make an exception for this one. It was named after one of my favourite pieces of classical music, probably that’s why?

He went to the bartender and got busy ordering things. The monologue in my head, very conveniently, started thinking of all the men of my Christmas past. I almost couldn’t breathe when I thought of how love can take a backseat, and lust can overpower us. How easy it is for us to let go of our clothes but not our walls. Why have we become a generation of scared, frightened, apathetic young adults who are hiding behind the cowardice of being afraid to love? What scars have made us truly abhor the beauty of romantic inclinations, the poetry contained in our eyes? When did we start letting gadgets provide us with more security than the bosom of our lovers?

“…and we’ll stay here, forever...” 

The song in my head made me nauseated by then. I got up to flirt with another cigarette, excusing myself from my friends. As I made my way to the smoking room, I saw him follow with two beers. His friends were still inside. Are they having some sort of a smoke off? It’s like they’d been living in there for years on end. I lit a cigarette and tried to put my thoughts at bay. I tried to concentrate on the patterns on the wall, the hardwood floor, the colour on the door. My therapist used to tell me that mindfulness is a saviour, it makes one live in the ‘her and now’. To me, Mindfulness has always been a bitch, much like everyone else in this world (apart from a few sweethearts, where would I be without you guys?). The song in my head was getting heated up and I felt like I was being suffocated. It was hard to tell whether it was all the smoke or the obnoxiousness that dwelled inside of me.

He was looking at me when I turned a casual glance on the opposite side. He smiled and took a swig from his beer. I was still trying my hand at mindfulness so I put the thoughts at bay and feigned a smile while dragging my cigarette like it was going to help me breathe any better. The flame almost hit the filter and I let go. He took another swig, kept his beer aside and started to approach me.
I took a quick glance at him, stared at the floor for a fraction of a second and bolted out the door.
I sat down at the booth with my friends and almost instantaneously immersed myself in brainless chatter while retarded club music filled my senses. Four sex jokes and two puns later, I eased into myself and let the mania slide. I told myself that 2016 had to be different.

As hard as it is, I would grow me a pair and brave the hardships of love and art. Love that transcends art, and art that transcends love. I want muses to behold and kisses to bewilder. And all the while, I want to dig deep into the trenches of life to seek what truly is, and what merely persists.

YOUR EMBERS SCATTERED OVER MY CLOSET OF SKELETONS

SHADES OF GREEN, UNTHINKABLE AND UNFATHOMMABLE:

THE ABSINTHE FOG ENVELOPS MY MYSTIC LAND OF MURDEROUS ZEAL 

AS I LIFT MY BONES TO THE GOSSAMER CLOUDS OF YOUR DWELLING.

THIS PATHETIC MANUEVER YOU CALL LIFE IS DISENCHANTED

BY THE BLOW OF A HEMLOCK DRENCHED PRICKY KISS, AND I MISS

THE AFTER TASTE OF YOUR SWEET SATISFACTION ON MY LONELY BEARINGS. 

He came out of the smoking room and looked straight at me, a loopy smile and a perplexed pair of eyes. I smiled back with the tenacity of a four year old.

After all, a poet wants, what a poet wants...


ABOUT THE AUTHOR :- 

Navamita Chandra is a student of Psychology from Loreto college, Kolkata. This passionate day-dreamer, vintage music maniac and devoted writer is also a reputed theatrician from The Dramatically Correct!