THE WAR

The place was perfect-an almost empty café on a crowded Bombay street. A perfect mug of coffee placed in my hand with its intoxicating aroma tantalising my senses. I was all alone. My cousin was ranting about his latest conquest (a girl, a bike or something equally arid). But he seemed so unusually far away. Like a million miles away or something. Gosh! I definitely needed sleep. Hadn’t slept through better part of last night, dozed off on the floor-third time in two months (bad idea, don’t try this ANYWHERE). Slept again to be woken up by the overtly sour mother of mine who was screaming something about 8 being a highly inappropriate time to be sleeping at. Psh!
10 hours, 7 ‘intentional’ lies later, here I was in a café with my cousin taking a short break from his never ending quest for expensive, tasteless, flashy clothes and accessories. The door tinkled and a lie walked in…a female of 50 or 60 years maybe…beautifully dyed hair, unnaturally ‘white’ned teeth, good figure, high heels and a stomach immaculately pulled in by a corset. Then came in a 20 year old lie, laughing at an unnaturally high pitch, cheering for her boyfriend who spoke impeccably vile things. And then I looked around. Couples, lovers, friends…happy lies…. that camouflage every small detail even minutely showing disgust, loners, ugly men and women, the beggars outside…sad truth. Two extremes. And suddenly the room tore apart into two as the two eternal opponents prepared for a war. They roared, charged and clashed…and the war ceased. Who won?
My cousin asked me if he was looking good today. Smile. ‘Umm yes.’
Lie.
The lonely ugly woman in one of the corners of the well-lit café walked out with a bent head.