Turn the tables

by Deepak Divakar

“Partly cloudy with slight chances of rain.” The cheerful weather reporter stated it perfectly for a million onlookers not to even sense the slightest of a glitch. The people in the bar counter chattered their wits along ignoring the noises from the television. A pleasant afternoon it was. The bartender through weeks could count the profit which was soaring in despite of listening to an endless number of torturous unfortunate stories multiplying with its own spontaneity. Who knew?, negativity in a person’s life could actually be turned to make positivity seem like a promising angel. Bring in chaos and make doomsday feel like victory.

In the midst of this chaos, lights pour in on the dark bar to let a quiet, 40-ish gentleman to make a what-u-can-call a mysterious entry. He came alone and ignored all the blissful chatter to find an empty seat at the corner of the bar. Not much of an entry but his presence was demeaning. His grayed hair and dirty beard would have made even a penniless beggar fear the slightest contact with this man. He had been a regular customer to that very bar for months now and the bartender had hardly heard this man speak a word other than utter a ‘One more mug’ with a grimace. He might have had a nasty past but that grimace made him look like a killer. So who did he kill?, was the question the entire bar had usually raised.

On that auspicious day, something unusual had caught the attention of this man with the grimace. On the next table he could hear a trio ranting about their own fortunes pouring it down with their whiskies, scotches and rum. One was a excited Muslim, the other was a stern atheist, while the last was a pious Hindu. The Muslim struck the conversation with his tale of his recent exuberant experiences both romantically and financially. He weighed down his romantic breakdown eventually splitting it into how it had given him time to build up interest in the market for eager shareholders to grab whatever was left of his dwindling company to make his investors turn hopes around. Everything happens for the best, he said adding a prayer over a burp. The Hindu quiet dumbstruck with the tale gives a laugh venturing out with his own personalized tale which had him go through a financial breakdown to attain whatever was left of his suffocating romantic life. He utters a prayer in the end too. The atheist by now down on his last peg bursts out laughing to both his companions’ surprise. For what you may ask? He blindly replies it’s been him having an affair with both his companion’s romantic interests to turn it into a confidence booster in his own financial ventures. Doomsday to you all, he prays aloud. The next minute, the empty glass in his hand slips while something sharp pokes his stomach and his vision is blocked by a fist.

The man with the grimace picks up his jacket, pays his tabs and quietly slips back into the light for he knew well who he had killed long back. He had killed his faith.

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