It was an ideal Friday night at the ten downing pub. I am hanging out with my friends on the dance floor. I slipped towards the bar counter to have shot. I ordered for a tequila and just looking around for some hot chicks. Then what came to my vision I can’t just take it. A woman attractively dressed in a decent sari with fine, simple jewelry almost looking like mate beside a bride (I strongly believe that in Indian marriages the mates of thebride who help her in looking good always look better than bride herself). Being a hard core fan of such mates, I fixed my gaze on her as she made her way to the bar counter. One can easily figure out that she is new to this kind of place, her allergic expression to the smoke and heavy rock music and smell of alcohol. Somehow she managed her way through the crowds and occupied a seat (2 seats away from me) snapping her fingers to call the bartender.
Even though she is so naïve at this kind of place, she managed a firm expression of confidence on her face and asked for menu. Even more confidently she asked for one large vodka shot. The bartender, sharing almost same confusion and amazement like me didn’t know how to respond. She snapped her fingers at his face showing her loathe and said “hello I am talking to you! Get me one large”, she said pointing to the smirn off bottle on themenu. One can easily guess that the movie knowledge of bars and pubs got her this far. But with her brisk looks and the way she projected herself to be strong was quite impressive.
The astonished bartender pour a 50ml in to the glass and adoredthe glass with a lemon bought it to her. She grabbed the glass with her left hand and very doubtfully, slowly lifted it to her lower lip. As soon as theglass touched her lip, she closed her eyes. The braveness she was projecting till then waved off and I can sense that she trying to get some approval from inside, a deep breath she took and started to tilt the glass. The liquid inthe glass was slipping towards its destiny, I was very eager to observe how she is going to take it and her reactions, and suddenly she put the glass down.
I was a bit disappointed, but still somewhere deep down, feeling some sort of happiness that she didn’t do it. She is holding the glass now with both the hands tightly as front line soldier holds his sword. Holding theglass tight she leant forward towards the glass keeping her eyes closed, biting her lips, trying to control herself. Tears ran down her cheeks all of a sudden, all the courage she acted till then slowly melted and there seemed to be nothing in this world that can stop them. She briskly lifted the glass and emptied it. I was a bit shocked whether she is following some conservation laws, as soon as the liquid in the glass went in, her tears stopped and she ordered for one more putting the glass down on the table like a thud. Her face told that she didn’t like the taste but her expression slowly faded to a sign of achievement.
Her glossed lips went curved and threw a corny smile at the waiter for getting her another shot. She quickly took the glass and emptied it too. Now she is holding the empty glass very hard, looking in to the glass, “Idiot, stupid, rascal” she shouted in rage. She shifted her gaze to the bartender and asked “One more” with a mischievous smile. This repeated for 5 more times, every time the same words “Idiot, stupid, rascal”, followed by “One more”. Serving the 7th round, “Mam, this is the last round I can serve”. With even more burning face she emptied her 7th glass and shouted “Why the hell you won’t give me? You want money? Here it goes, take all this.” She handed over her small leather wallet (definitely her husband’s I guess).
“No, mam we can’t serve you more.” bartender insisted.
“Do I look like a drunkard, you bastard. Do you know why the hell I am drinking like this? Do you know what pain means? Do you have a heart? Uh… I forgot, you are also a man right, you never got to understand this!” she sobbed heavily.
“Okay, madam I will serve you but you should tell me what this is about”, said the concerned bartender. May be he is also a bit curious to know theissue or he really want to share the pain. I guess he is after the former one.
“Here you go mam”, saying so he carefully poured some more vodka in her glass.
She leaned forward with her head beeping in to the glass began to cry again.
Helpless bartender tried to sooth her by asking “Is your husband not fair to you? , not treating well.?”
“No, he loves me so much.” She shouted keeping her focus on the glass.
“Is he seeing some other women, a mistress or any external affair?” bartender probed.
“No, he is not that kind of a guy, he is so honest.” She uttered without shifting her gaze.
“Didn’t he give an expensive necklace for this year anniversary?” curious bartender said trying to catch her eye by leaning towards her.
“He gave me a lambhorgni FS300, the hottest model sports car out there and damn I love it.” she sobbed.
“Then, what is your problem? Is he ill or not feeling well with any cancer??” saying so bartender gave up as he ran of reasons for a woman like her to be that much upset.
“No he is fit and fine.” She sobbed heavily, the turbulence of her tears nearly doubled and she is crying more loudly now. At the least I expected this way she is letting out her sorrow and she will be ok.
After a minute or so finally her voice got a pinch of tranquility, “I beg you, can you get me one more please ...” she pleaded. Not much left with any options and totally moved by her state the bartender said, “Okay, but you should share with me what is the issue.”
She took a deep breath and exhaled like a old steam railway engine and said, “He forgot snoopy’s birthday, our pet dog. He daily spends a quality amount of time as soon as he returns from the office and there was no single day he didn’t take snoopy out for the morning walk. How can he forget snoopy’s birthday?” she asked with a pale face.
The astonished, anger filled,ran out of words, spell bound, taken away bartender didn’t speak a word. He gave her a full bottle of vodka. She cleared the bill and left the pub walking drowsily like a kid who started to walk recently, holding the bottle with a loose grip that may fell off at any moment, at anyone's fate....
Watching the entire scene from a near distance I lifted one more tequila shot with an ancient question, may be a million dollar question some people say, banging my head WHAT WOMAN WANT…?
P.S.: Can’t think of a better way to end itJ. Hope you like it. Also please suggest any better endings.
