Abstract Dancers on a Mosaic
1
A mix of crude narration and manifestation is projected straight in a spatial plane. Concurrently, multiplexing of different emotions into a single stream occurs to create vivid imageries and therein germinates stories with real and imaginary characters. Almost all of these stories, except for epiphanies, are methodical and comical when they come to conscious realization. Notwithstanding the absurdity of the whole idea, if I am remotely interested, I just tag along and linger on to the afterglow of my discovery.
Mind you, this is only a mere projection and the projection continues after a commercial break. These nonsensical ramblings resume flying out of my head. Roki, Heri, Jau. The best part about Projection is that you can think and thereby make things happen by virtue of thinking. Although I am semi-conscious, due to my physiological ineptitude at this moment, the effort to block the stream has been rendered useless.
I preemptively recuse myself from any slander or libel and any attempt to do so shall be dismissed as frivolous lawsuit resulting in a fine to the plaintiff for contempt of court. While I had signed a non-disclosure agreement, this breach of contract to bring them out in public, I assume, is covered in fair use act. Likewise, the asymmetry of events should be construed as an actual reflection of projection and so should my shortcoming in describing these events be interpreted as such. Poo-tee-weet. So it goes.
Out of nowhere Aji was standing in front of me. He was tightly holding something inside his right hand. ‘I don't need this anymore,' he said in a stifled voice, 'It reminds me of Fatima.'
'Oh, I thought you didn't have anything with her.’ I was looking at his hand trying to figure out the object he was holding.
'So did I,’ his tone was slowly getting more serious, 'I wish it was that way brother.'
He has been here for a long time but you can clearly tell his mother tongue as Arabic when he particularly says the word 'brother,’ which he says often.
For a moment the projection drifts to significance of objects. Objects fascinate me. These non-living beings, with only 'shelf life,' involuntarily intermingle with people. While most of the objects are disposable, a very few of them anchor to the life of souls who are associated with them. The shelf life decrees a death penalty upon these objects against their will. But when was the last time you gave a souvenir to someone with an intended gesture to be confined within a limited period of time? Regardless of respect bestowed, a superficial wish in a form of an object also finds a corner of mantelpiece. Ironically the value abstracted from these items, with no fault of their own, are derived from the attachment to the person on the other end. This appraisal is a blend of memories associated with a person or the pass-through event that circumnavigates the activities of actors chartering a scripted or an unscripted path. Well this is a common understanding - a norm hitherto not formally inscribed to the law of life. One word 'symbolism' would have shortened the whole verbiage but, brace for it, I am here for 'a cup of tea syndrome.'
'Please... Please don't look at it and please shred it securely.' Aji put a small rectangular object in my palm and folded it. His hands were shaking. Then he paused for a moment and in a barely audible voice murmured, ‘Even a painkiller induces pain in me.'
I had no idea what it could be. The only thing I could feel was the embossed letters. Discreetly I moved my thumb across the card and read the letters in my head. It came as my name. Then quickly moved my thumb to the next line, which I guessed to be a set of incoherent numbers. I was getting morbidly curious. Suddenly I looked straight at my closed hand and I could see a part of the object that was not fully covered. It had 'Visa' written on it.
Motherstalker !! I realized that I forgot my credit card in the bar last night.
Now I am lying on a couch with a feeling of light sprain on my neck. I am totally listless and don't even have energy to move to my bed. I don't remember getting back home. Somehow I had managed to drag myself to the couch without even taking my shoes off. Like an hour-glass in which the 'hour' is totally skewed to one side, I feel like the whole 'hour' of my body has moved to my head, which is awkwardly resting on one arm loop, and my legs are dangling from the other. Full disclosure - I am not very tall, it’s just a small couch. Surprisingly, there is no feeling of guilt like other times. I thought of the card but it is too early to go and get it.
2
Nothing spectacular happened yesterday. As usual the weekend brought in a respite from stressful life. Lately I have been questioning too much about life and the answer isn't 42:it's always alcohol. And the auspicious day almost always happens to be on weekend. Coincidence ? I think not ! Correlation ? You bet!
Ajmeer is an acquaintance of mine. He is from Morocco. Our friendship is contingent upon each others' availability. Both of us have very few friends here. I do have some friends who live thirty miles and we meet every once in a while. But I don't think Aji has any friends besides Fatima who lives an hour south from his place. Usually on weekends our acquaintance turns to friendship and gets more pronounced. There is no obligation but sheer availability and a need of companionship have made us friends.
'Hey Aji, how is it going?'
'I am good brother. You?' he replied from the other end.
'Alright. Do you have any plan for tonight?'
'Ah nothing. Oh well, I may go to my girlfriend's place.' He spoke the whole sentence mixed with a faint laughter.
Aji is casually dating a girl from Algeria. I haven't met Fatima yet whom he refers to as 'that Algerian girl.’ I always tease him by asking 'you mean your girlfriend right ?!' In return he only has uncomfortable look. I think he is predetermined and presumably doesn't want the relationship to go too far.
'Silly me. Here I thought you were married and she is your wife now.'
'You're funny brother,' he spoke in the same laughter mix voice. 'If I am not going there, I will definitely let you know.'
'Alright. Let me know in any case.'
I am tired of drinking and spending my weekend like a pathetic slob. Therefore I thought on having some organic fun besides drinking which I assumed would eventually happen. In fact I took a step back and promised to quit drinking and smoking right then. I Knew I was fickle minded but there I said it. I was wondering where to go. Suddenly stand-up comedy came to my mind. So I looked online for comedy clubs and found that Ari Shaffir was performing at Improv near my place. Having heard his name before, and coupled with the promotion code that offered 50% discount, I didn't think twice before buying the ticket. The show was going to start at 8 pm.
Aji called me again at six. I don't know what transpired between him and Fatima but he sounded distraught. I told him I had ticket for Ari Shaffir's show and if he was interested I could get a ticket for him too.
'Thanks brother! I don't like that guy?'
'Because he is a Jew ?' I know a lot of people don't like his material. Aji is a practicing Muslim. It has never bothered me and I don't see a reason to be. The only side of him I have seen more is of a fun loving person who is very pragmatic and less bigoted than other people I know.
'Oh no. Not at all. He just simply sucks.'
'Well, I already have a ticket with me. I’ll call you when I am out of the club. How 'bout that ?'
'Sounds good to me. We definitely need a couple of drinks. See ya brother.'
'Yup brother.'
See, how quickly I reneged on my promise to quit drinking. I should have promised to be flexible rather than quitting completely. I reworded my promise to be social drinker but solemnly promised not to smoke again. Despite the promise I put the cigarette pack that was with me on a table near my bed. I could already see the beginning of the slippery slope.
Currently I am reading Slaughterhouse Five. I read three more chapters. Poo-tee-weet.So it goes.
3
It was already quarter past seven. There was no way I would make on time. I just hoped that they would start the show at 'Nepali time.' By the time I got to Improv it was 8 10. Little wonder the show had already started. I awkwardly presented my ticket and the usher took me inside. It was full of people and as we got in a sudden uproar of laughter boomed. It felt like I had missed the funniest joke ever told.
It took a while for me to find a seat. I got a seat that was diagonally placed at the farthest point from the stage. There were already three people in that table who all looked like came on their own. A big concrete pillar was between the table and the stage. Who in the right mind would put a table in there ? Some people just like to see the world burn.
Thankfully Ari was not on the stage yet. Some other guy was warming up. It didn't matter anyway. I could only hear bits and pieces of his thick southern twang which itself wasn't helping. The accent may have been the part of the skit but who cares- not me at this time. Every time the guy moved I had to bob my head side-to-side as the pillar only allowed me to see 44.92145% of the stage at one time. I had an illusion that the pillar too moved when I did. It was so freaking large as if the pillar alone held the sky when Atlas went for a vacation. The other guys too moved their head and body whichever was applicable and it looked like an orchestrated movement. I resigned. With all my might I tried to congregate my sensory powers to my ears. Only the laughter and clapping got louder.
'Sir, would you like something to eat?’ a server inquired softly trying his best not to disturb anyone. In the ticket it had been written that with every ticket you had to order at least two items. I am not sure what they would have done if I didn't buy anything. As I hadn't eaten since the morning and the price wasn't bad either, I opted to eat.
'Chicken sandwich please.' As always I picked the easiest thing and that too barely looking at the menu.
'What do you like in it sir?'
Take this ticket, deep fry it in an oil of laughter and put it in the sandwich. There was no point in getting mad at him. I felt bad. 'A little bit of everything.'
'Do you like a drink too ?'
'Heineken Light.'
'We don't have it sir. We have Amstel light, Corona light, Bud light....'
I could see a couple of heads in other table turning my way. I had totally forgotten I was in a comedy club. The realization made me a bit nervous. Before he could finish naming available beers, I interjected and told the first beer that I heard, although I don't like it much. ‘Amstel light please.'
I played on my cell phone while I was eating. On the other hand the whole crowd was busy laughing at the jokes of the performers.
The stage was the only place in the room that was well-lit. A guy went up the stage. 'Please give a round of applause to Mike.' There was a round of applause as he demanded. I did too as a sarcastic gesture but I don't know who it was directed against. The guy on stage continued, 'Are you ready for Ari?' The crowd went wild. 'Please welcome to the stage Mr. Ari Saffir.'A guy who was sitting about two feet away from me stood up and moved towards the stage. There was a chair against the wall. Due to darkness, I hadn't seen him the whole time. I waited for a while and saw that chair was still empty after a minute. I hurriedly moved in there. Goodness gracious!! The seat offered a panoramic view of the whole room including the stage and by dint of divinity I was hearing better too.
Ajmeer was right. Ari was OK.
4
I came out of the club and called Aji. He was driving around. He said he would be at the parking lot in five minutes. Apparently 'Moroccan time' is as good as 'Nepali time'- he took fifteen minutes to arrive. It was half past ten.
'How was the show?'
'Ok. Did you have your dinner?'
'Yeah, I did.'
His car was blocking the whole road. There were no available parking spots. A car was already behind him and waiting for him to move.
'You tell me.' I wasn't sure what I wanted to do.
'Brother, you will never make a good manager,' he said as he slowly started moving his car, 'follow me.'
I did since I had no other option. Sometimes I wonder whether he was a taxi-driver in Casablanca before he came to the US. I lost him at the very first turn when he took a left turn on a yellow light. I had to call him before I got to the bar.
The parking lot was full. So were the adjacent streets. Aji hadn't found a spot either. He took a right out of the parking lot. Nearby there was a motel with empty parking spaces. In front of the entrance there was a sign that read 'Towing enforced at all times. Authorized parking only.'
'Don't worry brother! I park here every time,' Aji said. It wasn't reassuring. 'By the way, do you have a friend who has a truck? I need to move one big furniture next week.'
'Yes I do. I think you have met him too. His name is U-Haul.'
'Oh yeah ? How is your buddy Windows 7 doing? Tell him I said 'hi' if you meet him again,’ he snapped. ‘I am sure the road to hell is paved with humorous intentions.'
He murmured something in Arabic. And it wasn't 'Insallah.' I knew it wouldn't be anything sinister but I felt a sudden pang inside. Sometimes I get into what I call 'drive-by moments'- don't know why I picked this term for a recurring phenomenon in my life. It's a defense mechanism instigated as a result of perceived attack to my self -esteem. The trigger can be as small as a scintilla of perceived 'injustice' to my brain function that effectively closes all the ports. The automatic feedback loop goes into contemplative mode and all outwardly interactions drop to bare minimals. Many of the times I get false positives. The conscious-self alone fights with this phenomenon to bring back things to normalcy.
I let him go in front of me and clumsily walked behind him. As I walked my reflection on the windows presented a grim outlook superimposed upon the fading youth. I angled up a bit and nothing changed. Probably Aji read my disposition or it might be his ego, he simply walked in without further conversing but he did pay for my cover as well.
The bar was crowded. The bartender was busy passing the drinks. I squeezed myself laterally between two stools only to get my body in it. Stretching my hand forward I gestured the bartender for a drink.
'What do you want buddy?'
I was in mood for whiskey. 'Can you get me two Grand Marnier neat?' Aji was standing little bit far from me and still not saying a word.
'Two what?’ the bartender asked again.
Several folks were trying to get their drink and on top of that, there was a loud music blaring on. And of course, not to mention the fact that I am rarely successful at the first time due to my weird accent.
'Grand Marnier,’ I replied opening my mouth more and slowly saying the name of the drink.
'Sorry what?'
Incidents like these add snowflakes to the avalanche of my low self esteem. 'Forget it. Just give me two Bud lights.'
'Do you want to keep the tab open?'
'Yes please.’ I passed the drink to Aji and we both went to opposite sides.
I was drinking by myself on the far corner of the dance floor. Next to me there was a white guy who was looking at a bunch of Indian looking group who were dancing in front of us. He was waiting for an opportune moment to dance with a good-looking Indian girl who was dancing alone.
'Are you with them?' he asked me slightly raising his chin.
'No. I came with that dork.' I pointed at Aji who was on the other side of the floor leaning against the wall near the mini-bar. There was a big bar at the center and two more mini-bars at opposite corners. You would think Aji would dance and have fun. Nope. He simply drinks and strolls alone around the floor. That's his idea of fun. He once said he just loves to be in a crowd as it coalesces his individuality to the homogeneity of the crowd. I beg to differ this time as a feeling of aversion to everything was beginning to stem inside me.
Why don't you dance with her?’ the guy asked me looking in general to a girl wearing blue dress.
'Just.'
He called the girl and told her that I was interested in dancing with her.
'Yaspal, can I dance with him?’ she asked a guy who was dancing with another Indian-looking girl. Presumably she came with them. I didn't know what to do. But I was sure the guy would look at me. Before he turned to me I looked on the other side and softly tapped my toes in tune with the beat so as not to look like a pervert. It was weird. A little piece of me died inside.
'Which part of India are you from?' she asked me in a fluent but thick Indian accent.
'The part that was not ruled by the British,’ I quipped with a wry smile. 'Actually, I am from Nepal.'
The couples were dancing intimately and were getting closer to us.
'Sorry! I thought you were an Indian too. I’ll dance with you but only in Indian style...not American style.’ And in the same breath she added, 'they are boyfriend and girlfriend.’ She went on 'It's just been a month that I came from India to work for AT&T.'
I could understand her apprehension. I politely declined. 'Sorry for the confusion. I don't feel like dancing. And I don't even know that guy. Also, I didn't say anything to him.'
'That's ok.' Holding her cell phone she continued, ‘If you have a facebook account, add me. My name is Subeena Kaur and my email is subeena.kaur976@yahoo.co.in'
The DJ played an English song with heavy Bhangra beats. Before I could say anything she joined her friends and they all formed a line, and a typical Bhangra dance ensued. A guy came near me and held my hand and raised it in motion of dancing. I tried to copy. It was a half-assed attempt with hands flailing like a child throwing a hissy fit. I failed miserably. The self loathing kicked in as an automatic response. Slowly I backed out and turned. Aji was behind me holding drinks on his both hands.
'Grand Marnier,’ he offered a glass to me. Actually I only knew of that drink from him.
I downed the whole drink in a go to gulp down the perceived failure. My face twitched due to the burning sensation from the liquor.
'That was a double.' He repeated 'double and neat.'
Although I hadn't drunk much, I started getting queasy. I dashed towards the restroom thinking of an impending danger. I held my right hand against the stall, the other hand on my waist and bent my head a little bit.
Here comes the Sam
Two can Sam
You go girl!
Slowly the feeling subsided. No trade was made however. I looked pale in the mirror. After I washed my face, the bathroom attendant passed me some paper towels. I wiped my face and pulled out my wallet. There was a single twenty dollar bill and a quarter stuck in the corner. I didn't want to throw a quarter to the tip box because no one tips just a quarter. And no, I didn't put the twenty either.
'Sorry buddy. I don't have any cash with me.'
'Not a problem sir.'
I went back inside. Asked for two Coronas at the mini-bar. The guy couldn't pull my tab that was open on the other side. I had to pay with another card.
'Do you want to keep it open?’ asked the bartender.
'Yes please.'
I looked around for Aji but he was nowhere to be seen. I put his drink on a table. A young girl who looked quite drunk approached me and spoke to me in Spanish.
Press uno for Americano. Two for Spanish. 'No habla espanol. Only pokito!' I said.
She pulled a chair and cozied herself up and with a fleeting glace on the drink said, 'You look like a Hispanic.'
'I get that often...Take this drink. My friend is not drinking.'
'You sure?'
'Yes.'
She took the drink, pushed the chair behind, and came a little closer to me and asked if I would like to dance with her.
'No. Thanks.’ I knew she meant the 'American way.' I just wanted to be alone.
'I'll be around if you decide to change your mind.’ And she walked towards the floor.
I saw Aji coming out of the patio. I went to the bar again and bought two shots of SoCo lime with the twenty dollar bill and handed him one. After downing the drink, I suddenly had a strong urge to smoke. I went out and bummed a cigarette for a dollar.
The cigarette had a multiplier effect. It started getting uneasy again. I wanted to go home and sleep. I went back inside. Aji was watching some guys play pool.
'Let's go Aji.'
'Ok as you say boss.'
'Hold on. I'll be back in a minute.'
I went inside the restroom. Fished a dollar from my pocket and dropped in the tips jar. The steward was not there.
Aji was at the mini bar with two shots of transparent drink. 'You chicken ! Take this shot of vodka.'
I drank it without doing the customary 'Cheers.'
'Take it easy brother!'
'Chicken who?' I turned to the bartender and asked for the double of the same drink.
We both closed our tabs in the mini-bar and staggered towards the parking lot. I was totally drunk due to assorted drinks.
'Look! The cars are still there. I told you not to be worried...don't you people own more than half of motels and gas stations in the US? Most probably one of your uncles owns this motel too.' Aji chortled and it echoed throughout the parking lot. Lately he understands the distinction between Indians and Nepalis but he just pretends not to know as it gives him a bigger board to throw his dart. Well, it's a fair game- I have entire Arab region to mock him.
'Yup. The said uncle is really smart in not building a tall motel. Everyone knows you people love tall buildings like no other thing in the world. Well, the camel may come close,’ I impulsively retorted but with a little chuckle so as not to sound racist. Knowing me he understood I meant no malice.
'Right on brother. You know what..Did you read the news about the guy in DC who was planning to kill the president? As I was reading through, I kept praying him not to be a Moroccan and the f^cker had to be.’ He was getting incensed. ‘ F^cking Moron! It could've been an Algerian - well, it wouldn't have made any difference-or a Canadian, Chinese or an Indian or even a f^cking Nepalese. Nope. It had to be a Moroccan.'
I heartily laughed to diffuse the situation.’ I did read that news. I hadn't seen you for a week then. I thought of you. Seriously. I thought how adept you were in living incognito here before you flew to DC. Then I got scared as I thought I would be interviewed until I saw a picture of the guy in another news source. He is really stupid!'
'You f^cker! You and I are no less stupid either. You ain't going to walk home, are you? You are going to drive and do you realize how drunk you are ? I'll be doing the same. But again life isn't the same.' He abruptly changed the discourse. 'Life is all downhill from here. It's just going to be mechanical. You will be living in nostalgia and resort to wishful thinking like a house, better pay, a beautiful wife, Green Card, on and on. Chasing horizon after horizon. However you'll never realize it's not a horizon-it's a mirage. When you think it will get easy, a new set of problems will come your way. It's like a permanent puddle with transient water. As soon as that water is gone, different water comes from somewhere and fills the puddle. Your life is doomed brother.'
He started laughing maniacally.
'For God's sake, stop it! Not this shit again.' I interjected before he could go further. 'Everyone has his own fire to fight. I don't want to hear anything now. Save it for another time, will you ? Better yet sign me up to your newsletter.’ I think I overreacted. 'Alright Aji, I am going home. Drive safe.'
'You too f^cker!' And he got into his car. Seemingly the brotherly love all vanished.
Indeed the guilt was insurmountable but it wasn't a time and place to do so. I drove out of the parking lot to Main Street. Needless to say my reasoning capability had been impaired due to alcohol. After a while I realized that I had been straddling the centerline. Be alert and focus on the wheel brother.
It was very warm inside. The uncomforting warmth was making me giddy. I felt like I had been inside a pressurized capsule and the seatbelt was devising a hideous plan to strangulate me. Feeling short of breath I opened the windows. There was a strong wind blowing outside. It started pounding my face. Immediately I closed them again and turned on AC.
My default radio station is NPR.I slightly increased the volume.
'..Santorum spoke against abortion and homosexuality....'
'F^cking hypocrite.' For some self-explanatory reasons I am repulsed by his name. I scanned for other channels.
'...Har sham aankhon par tera aanchal lehraye...pal pal dil ke paas tum....'
'..Piano man he makes his stand...tiny dancers in my hand...."
Tony Danza !
Tiny dancers in form of red, green and yellow bubbles were sprouting up and dissipating in front of me at frequent intervals.
