A Table for One

Intriguing young woman. Contently staring at the book, charmed by the written word, cast a spell upon may be. Thoughts fixed, or moving you couldn't say. You couldn't say a thing about her for sure, hence the intrigue. Hair clutched into a loose bunch at the back, strands of it falling apart, being repeatedly tucked behind her ears like being disciplined. Is that some kind of a style? You couldn't say. Cheek bones meet to form a rather pointed chin, like a perfect triangular vertex, a face not too small not too large, somewhere in between. And I haven't seen her eyes yet, I have to keep looking some place else, staring at her with that devoted a constancy would arouse suspicion, wouldn't it. Now she is looking up from the book, and I have to pick something else to look at, momentarily though, oh, and is that a smile I gather from my peripheral view. Is she going to smile at me and say hi? Rather not, she is smiling at the waiter and asking for another cup of chai. And, by the way, eyes, pretty mundane though, I imagine would be as much drunken and intoxicating over an intimate conversation about life et cetera.  Ain't I thinking too much. Being carried away by the intrigue.

This is a book store, overlooking the highway, with walls of glass. And this is being written as it is happening, like being broadcasted live. The more enticing combo is that of literature and some thought inducing beverage. You know how it works. Half the time you scan the book shelves standing in narrow aisles not knowing what is it that you're looking for, but basically shortlisting the books you could glance through later when you're sipping the not so sugary chai. But the problem with the inbuilt tea shop was that there weren't enough tables. And there was this table for two with this personification of intrigue seated, busily purring over a book whose name I couldn't read out from that distance. So I took that excuse to tread closer and immediately took the vacant chair. It must have given her quite a jig, the ones that strangers give. But she hadn't cared to look up. Now I make out the book is called May you be the mother of a hundred sons. Non fiction, oh!

This is the weirdest thing you would expect, wouldn't you. Sitting with a stranger in a cafe more familiar, whiling away an afternoon, staring at the cars zooming past on the highway, uncaring, unstopping. The stranger, who has now run me out on intrigue, curiosity, sex appeal, and even on blah, has switched books, has picked up one of those written by an enlightened newbie, an aspirant is she. I cannot ask her what she is reading. On another thought, shouldn't I stop jumping to conclusions about her and wonder why these cafes do not have A Table for One. 


nOt anyone you know said...


a table for one.
a fable of one.
enable me to be able for one.
why can't there be a table for one!

that title can alone make a whole post!!

The Sage said...

i like tables for one... the ones which are just one long slab of wood positioned along the glass wall of the store, with a bar stool for company...

but i guess i am digressing...

Blasphemous Aesthete said...

Mundane things can be so beautifully expressed, when are you starting to work on your novel?

There ain't a table for one, maybe for a conversation to start. For two strangers to meet, and talk for a while. Maybe, for a story to unfold.

Blasphemous Aesthete

$uch! said...

exactly, y nt table 4r one :)

wildflower said...

Yeah, somehow that speaks of the redundancy of the entire post. But whatever! :)

Nope, you're not. Me too likes those ones which are just one long slab of wood positioned along the glass wall of the store ..

The novel! Not anytime soon, I don't consider myself capable of writing anything longer than three paragraphs as of now, thanks for the encouragement though. And not often do stories unfold between strangers like that, not when I am one amongst the two.

Yup, except I am with you! :)

Anonymous said...

this is pretty intriguing itself
and 'table for one' sounds nice

uh......this Blasphemous Aesthete seems to be everywhere...whichever blog I open!!this is really very strange...has he visited each and every blog on this earth?!!:D

nil said...

Damn this was good! Hi. Just bumped into your blog. Glad I did actually. Really well written!
Hope to see you around Blogger,

Blasphemous Aesthete said...


Not quite, but he just might. :P

Blasphemous Aesthete said...

oh and Wildflower,
Just a wandering thought,
how many years did Rome build itself?


wildflower said...

the feeling lioness
Are you stalking him?! :P

U're being stalked. And I have never cared any less about Rome..

Nice pic and nice name! :) Great to see you here!

Blasphemous Aesthete said...


Oh don't worry, they are too behind, just picking up a trail. When they come for me, I'll be gone.
But Rome was a beautiful place, literature, I'd say, no?

indira said...

There are indeed tables for one :) You just have to look.

Anonymous said...

I am not stalking you
move out of the way
there's too much of traffic