NObody yet ANYbody or SOMEbody

I sat alone, apart from my own twin that we all carry in our heads; alone in the corner being able to observe everyone in the cafe. 

Wooden floor boards & wall panels with simply deep quotations & abstract framed art work. 

Too much of calm inside that compensates for all the rush outside. 

I sat in my corner, reading over tea & waiting for my cake.

Other guests came in, sometimes alone & sometimes not ; some of them knew each other while some did not. I tried to make friendly eye contact so I could initiate a smile that might start a ‘good evening to you’ or a ‘hello’. Mostly their eyes would avoid mine while they sorted out where they were going to sit & what they were going to order & of course replying to texts in between all this. Now they had no reason to say ‘good evening’ because to say it then would have been out of place, the meeting having already occurred some minutes earlier.
So, no gestures or smiles of acknowledgement let alone a spoken word.  

‘Miserable lot’, I thought to myself. I would have enjoyed some small interaction that signified acceptance or at least recognition of my being. Then on reflection I realized how judgmental I was & perhaps their circumstances prevented them from speaking or even smiling. Perhaps one of them was a kidnapper holding the others to a terrifying deal or perhaps they were all new to the city or they just didn’t like the look of me or perhaps they were all going to a funeral!
Who knows, but, for whatever reason, they didn’t talk to me.

So I talked to myself, privately in my mind. The waiter brought my cake slice by then. 

I thought that maybe I did not appear an interesting enough person to warrant attention, just someone unworthy of a, ‘good morning.’

I began to consider deeper what might transpire if they did speak. What if they asked - “Who are you? What do you do? Where do you come from?” What would I say?

Then it came to me; not what would I say but what could I say.

Now approaching my late twenties & having done a few things & been to a few places, I could pick anything from my past & create a partial story of truth that their imagination would then complete – & I would seem so interesting then.

”Who, me?” I muse, in my private corner, pretending one has asked me a question, “I have journeyed here on a spiritual path of destiny; I have traveled far, from a place where the setting Sun meets the horizon of a great ocean", instead of "I just dropped by for tea."       

     

Then it came to me. Why not? I’d soon thought of other diverse activities. “Well, the truth is I’m a dancer by passion & now here to explore some contemporary styles."

You, like I, could explore your minds for exaggerated & intimated glories to fire imaginations. What fun that could be!

Finally one to frighten them, “Oh, me?  Ah, very interesting. I am a people watcher & then I write about them. Oh don’t worry, you’ll come out fine. You eat in the most amusing way.”

So, next time you’re having a coffee or chatting at a bar, you could give it a try or perhaps they are.

How do you know any of what you have just read was true, & does it matter anyway?

Thanks for reading. It has made up for that lonely tea in Cochin.