CoffeeShop Blues: 2015 Traveler's Edition - Page 12

CoffeeShop Blues I murmured the name, Holy Lord, and with the dim light of the candle, goggled outside my window. I took a glimpse of the ebony velvet with twinkling stars interspaced in between. The low whines of a child again started. I began to chant the name of The Almighty and peered into the black canopy. A pale face of a child fished out of nowhere and formed shudders throughout my whole body. With utmost fortitude, I mumbled, “Who is it?” There was no answer. I repeated the question louder. A toddler with a small, frail figure climbed out of the window and waddled in front of my bed. I began to swoon and stutter. “Who –a-r-e y-o-u?” “Don’t fear Koyel.” The boy resonated with confidence. With a dry throat I whispered, “How come you know my name?” The boy smirked and grinned. “Spirits are undead. They know everything, even about the things beyond this Earth. They can foretell. The only trouble is the deep, burning angst in their hearts.” With squinted eyes I almost choked, “What is it that you have got to tell me?” “Do you want to listen? Will you really punish that grisly crime?” With this, the boy shouted and flailed his arms wildly. With blood curdling in my heart and taking deep breaths, I said, “Okay. Go on boy.” “My name is Hari. I am the unborn son of the first wife of your uncle Mr. Roy, who murdered my mother hideously.” I gasped and could not utter any single word. Hari went on, “My mother Meera was an educated woman and the only daughter of a wealthy zamindar. Your uncle promised to marry my mother after having a furtive affair of three years. My innocent mother yielded herself completely to her first love, body and soul. 12