Café Window

Some stories don’t have a clear beginning and end; they leave us in a lifetime of ambiguity. This is what I was ruminating while crossing the busy street. As I waited for the maddening traffic to come to a halt, my eyes fell upon a quaint English café across the street, it was the most charming thing I happen to see and it had the most charming, dainty little glass window. For a moment I forgot the hustling traffic and thought of how life would be if it went on in a wonderful meandering pace? And that was it, next I was sitting in that café looking across the window happy and relaxed.

My impatient heart was calming down as I saw people walking by, I never thought I was people watcher but sitting in that magical place, I was in a constant awe by looking at the passerby’s. I gaped with my glittering eyes the whole world passing by. Few went unnoticed and few became memories. I saw those hauntingly innocent eyes and those creased forehead, I saw them giggling and I saw them morose I saw those charming gray strands and those trembling hands, I saw the laugh lines and the frown, I saw the fake, I saw the real I wanted to know the stories behind all those expressions. I wanted to be a part of their stories live their lives. At that moment I knew, it’s not the beginning, it’s not the end, it’s the journey which is magical and lucky are those whose stories have no clear beginning and no clear end.

We don’t need a life threatening experience or a terminal disease or a broken heart or a dose of sadness in life to know little about life, sometimes a café window can also do a good job.