Gorgeous Lady

-

Prelude: I and my thirty-five-year-old self set a challenge: if I say yes to writing before midnight, I have to continue writing; else not. He somehow can enter my consciousness (I do not understand how so much happens in 14 years). 

Battleground: My conscience.


I was reasonably confident that he would never have the slightest idea of me spending time inside a bar. Well, it was more of a restaurant and less of a bar, but there was a bar component. I sighed in relief before opening the door. I took a quick peek behind my back, saw no familiar faces, and went in. It was silent compared to what I had imagined, and I was tense. I saw each table occupied except one in the corner of the room—a vacant chair and a gorgeous lady.

I walked slowly towards that table. 

"Is this seat taken?" I asked with utmost politeness.

"No. You can occupy," she replied in one of the most beautiful voices. I slid the chair slowly and adjusted myself with the least amount of noise.

"Are you alone here?" I asked while cleaning my wet face with a handkerchief.

"You seem to have quite a run. Did you run all the way here?" she shot a question instead of answering. I had asked the wrong question.

"Yeah, I did. I am going through a rough time."

"You do look tense. What's the story?"

I cleared my throat. Looked at her and asked, "You must have heard of time travel. Do you believe in the concept?"

"I have seen several movies on time-travel.  I have read some stories also. I find the concept fascinating!"

"So, let me tell you what's going on with me." She nodded, and I continued. I am being chased by a 35-year-old guy named Siba Smarak Panigrahi."

"Why is that name familiar? I have heard that somewhere... Ah! I remember he is the author of that blog ...uh, 'Within My Mind'? I have read a few stories. Dear Crush, right?" said she.

"Yeah, absolutely true. Have you read his final story? Swan Song? Without that, there is not much of a context to talk." 

She paused me there, opened her mobile, and went to the above story to read. I could barely contain my excitement—seeing her read the story before me was something I would not forget. 

"Does it end there? What's next? Where is the next story? This leaves me with many questions!" She was not satisfied with the blog's ending.

"Now you are part of what follows next in the story," I smirked.

She gave me a confused look and glanced at me for a moment. Then, she went to Google, searched for me, and looked back at me. "It's you, right?" she asked, showing a recent photo.

"Yeah," and I smiled.

"Man, I wanted to meet you so bad after reading Dear Crush! I am glad you ran here (a short, elegant smile). My name is Vanessa. I am from Bordeaux."

"Wait a minute. You are from France?! What are you doing here?" I was intrigued and surprised.

"Well, I am here to meet someone. And you showed up instead of him. (A brief pause) You were saying something about your future self?" she ended with another captivating smile.

"Yeah. I almost forgot. So, he was chasing me, and I came here because I would never imagine myself in a bar. After my thirty-year-old self left me, we were on a different timeline than the original. And with the arrival of thirty-five-year-old me, we again changed the timeline. 

Now, he wants me to continue writing for some concealed reason and says that the bad phase in 2030 is relatively small compared to what he enjoys because of the blog. He is now trying to convince me to continue writing. The condition is that he approves the stories, so the order of story release remains the same, and that aspect does not change in this new timeline! But 2030 me was seriously frightened, so I don't want to continue writing."

"That's confusing as hell! I did not understand anything about it," she sighed. I reiterated as slowly as possible, using hand gestures, a pen, and tissue paper.

 "Well, I believe you should continue writing. Obeying your older self to break your promise does not sound that bad." I thought momentarily and said, 'Yes, absolutely!'. 

At this very moment, I heard a noise, a screech. Someone entered the bar. She stood up. Came near me and whispered into my ears, "Sorry." I looked back. There he was, thirty-five-year-old me. Fingers snapped.





I saw him standing in front of me in the basement with a wide smile.

"I guess you won. You made me say 'yes' to continue writing." I said in a defeated tone.

"That's what our challenge was. You say yes before I leave, and you continue writing. I never was in control. It was you, your conscience, and your place. I was merely a manipulative creation of your conscience. (A small pause as he made himself ready to go back to the future) So 'Gorgeous Lady'?"

"Yeah, sure." I murmured as he disappeared: "I should have realized it was all too good to be true."

As I sat down to write, I realized he made and approved the first story of the second season. 


Siba Smarak Panigrahi

    (Dedicated to Siba Smarak Panigrahi in 2035)

 



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Drifting

-
"Are we done then?" she dreaded asking, knowing that, given the situation and everything that had happened recently, there was an actual probability that the answer would be affirmative. Like most things, it started from something naive and escalated to something big. A planned weekend trip to Les Avants is precisely what both needed to escape life, particularly the work-related events over the past week. The itinerary was to arrive in Montreux in the morning, take the Golden Pass Panoramic train, do a few hikes and return in the evening - it couldn't be more straightforward. Tickets were bought the night before, and the bags were packed with snacks, two large bottles of water, and, of course, the camera. "My goodness, it is half past nine!" she exclaimed when she woke up. She observed that he had already been awake for quite some time since breakfast was in the kitchen, and he was not in the house. He had said several times before that he would leave if she de...
Read more

Dear Crush ('Dear' series : Ep 02)

-
It’s a fine Monday morning. I was going through my old college books, which were covered with dust. I was searching for one to help my son understand a concept better. Suddenly, a letter slipped out. I picked it up. Something was scribbled on it— I suffered from a terrible toothache. I needed to see a doctor. Instead, I met a nurse. I told her about the pain. She listened and then walked away to call the doctor, leaving me with hope. But what remained? Me. My increasing pain. Nostalgia hit hard. To all my dearest people, I wish to share a glimpse of my thoughts from one evening—three days before I wrote this letter. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I stood near the wall—specifically, in one corner of the floor—waiting. Just waiting for the people inside the HOD’s room to come out. I needed to get in for a signature. I had been in the department since five in the evening. It was nearly seven now. Oh gosh! How...
Read more

Dear, I (Was) Fooled ('Dear' series : Ep 01)

-
I was under immense pressure. In the secret code language, we all understand—'Nature's call.' I was in tenth grade, ranked fifth in the class. Then there was Wharkin—studious beyond belief. I honestly don’t know if there’s a book she hasn’t read. Her study room was a library, books scattered everywhere, each tagged with what looked like summaries. But they weren’t just summaries—every book was underlined, scientific journals and research papers filled with pencil-drawn diagrams. I rushed toward the washroom entrance.  As I reached the door,  I was reassured by the familiar sight of closed compartments and felt relieved that I was in the correct washroom. I have this phobia that I might enter the wrong one. Yeah, at some point or other in your life,  you've probably had that fear too—or at least, every boy in our school did ! I opened the compartment and something else.  Oh, what a glorious, satisfying relief! I remembered visiting Wharkin’s house yesterday a...
Read more