The long lunch queue was abuzz

The long lunch queue was abuzz with faces that thanks to ears at the extremes held laughters from reaching 360 degrees. And talk... endless chatter of gossips vying with rattles of ladles on porcelains; and hands reaching for forks and spoons at the end of the food chain. Lunch Time at Mensa. Students and professors and poseurs and associates - all gathering as a matter of routine - at the same time. The very epitome of university life.

"Deeeeee..." a hail from somewhere behind the queue of plates hit his ear at mid-pitch. Knowing the voice, without turning to see, he just raised his right hand in a gesture of recognition. Not much interested in stepping out of line or feeling like returning the favour in decibels, the man addressed as Dee murmured something inchoate to himself, getting irritated with the agonizing snailing towards the goulash counter. Goulash and mashed potatoes and a serving of frikadelle at extra cost. And the mustard paste packaged by some dumb, across the Atlantic Pond company that you had to pay for. Everything these days cost money. Earlier it was different. You just had to flash your student identity and the coupons could be picked once a week or fortnight or monthly as you wished to retain them. The menu has not changed, only the pattern of service. And the gas cost so much that one stayed back to catch lunch at the canteen rather than drive back to the apartment. He was one of the several students who were finding the "openness" a little alarming. Education still is free. One just had to pay a basic student union assurance. But the course materials cost a fortune for those who are not used to paying. Still, life is not without its positives. One at least can work up finances if one had the will and desperation and attitude towards it.

The queue had reached him to the counter. "Mahlzeit!" The voice from the other side of the counter wished. "Uh... hunh? Bit more sauce please..." An amused and condescending cackle from the other side of the counter, as the ladle showered the mash with its blessings of brackish brown sauce emblazoned in dull kidney beans. Sigh...ing, he moved away from the railing and towards an empty table.

"Mind if I joined, Dirk?", a very nasal voice, sounding un-English, un-American but standard, eased itself on the opposite chair without waiting for an answer. By now being used to this pattern of politeness that did not expect an answer Dee, whose expansion has now been authenticated, spread a warm smile and extended the open palm to accept a friendly embedding of the other hand that pressed gently palm down, "Heeeey... managed to make it yourself?". The visitor smiled a row of unorderly lower row, eased the mandatory mashed potato and some agglomeration of vegetables and salads and vinegar soaked beans accrued on the plate, with the right hand while carefully placing the paper tissue and the fork to the left of him. "Yes, Need for Food! Can't keep the taste buds under suppression for long." He said it matter of fact. "If you could call a plate full of leaves a treat for your taste buds, you're entitled to your feelings," chuckled Dirk in a wry sort of way, the visitor couldn't quite comprehend whether to consider it a joke and return the compliment with another flash of lower row or to say something to keep the conversation going. "But yoooou know, it's good. For you to discover the campus. Even if it means you need to hop across two intersections for this measly meal. I mean, rather than going to that basement cafeteria and brushing shoulders with the older lot of professors with borrowed Queen's English. You feel life here. How would you compare?"

"Ummm... naat musch difffferance", mouth full of potato slush and one little strand of sprout beans hanging, making desperate efforts to snake into the esophagal avenue towards the digestive innards of his mid-torso. Gulp... three-second pause of voice, accentuated with gestures and movement of left fingers to explain that it was difficult to think with food in mouth... clearance, "...actually, the food is same. But yes, it's a lot more warm here", and wondered if they both meant the same warmth. "Heeeey... Deee. Hi Canon, is the food treating you good?" the voice that had hailed Dirk from the back of the food chain a while back now settled down on the seat next to Dirk in the form of a gorgeous, even if slightly more round on the hips, E-cat, as Dirk affectionately called his girlfriend. Canon is how they had pronounced his name on the Round One of introductions as he had descended on the Teutonic soil, on the sunny but cold day in late September. Having a certain proclivity towards photography, he had mutely accepted his name-revision with a certain resigned candor that he prided himself as internal grandeur. E-cat is short for Ekaterina. As he mulled over nomenclatural predicaments in a university campus, D & E had quickly brushed their lips to acquaintance. That is something he was still coming to terms with. "Do you have your presentation this evening?" - Dirk.

"Naw! going to do window shopping at the mall. Going to leer and ogle at all those Aiwa Walkmans and try to beat the ascending steps of the escal..."

" 'k, join us at the 2nd Floor then? 6.30" E-cat suggested, afterwards looking at D for a late approval.

"Yeah!... yeah...!!" strained Dirk, perhaps taken unexpectedly by this invitation that must have ensued from him.

"What's up tonight?"

I have a right to exist

I have a right to exist, he thought. Lately he has been having nightmares. In real time. Like now. The vultures swirled high above the ground, hawk-eyed, circling, waiting for the pray to spread-eagle in death and the burning sands below. Clumps of mesquites scattered between craters of sands extending miles all round the empty vastness. Wrong terrain for mesquites. No, not the terrain, the mindscape of the nightmare was not any Arizona desert, but what was once a city in the southern part of India. The stars and the standardized constellations over-head in the clear skies told his cerebral functions that fact. That was what disturbed him. A clear starry night in south of India and vultures overhead? Vultures in the night! It has to be a nightmare. He woke up, not with a start, for he had been through this surreal landscape that melts underneath his hurtling legs as the latter tried to outrun themselves and outpace the throbbing, pulsing heart that left a spicy feeling in his throat! Familiar feelings. Familiar landscapes reeling out fast and furious like those dissolving-into-each-other music video cuts. That was why he got up not with a start, but to analyse. It was four in the morning, his digital fm radio ricocheted. Groaning, wiping a single bead of cold sweat under his chin, he tried to turn around. The early morning affliction of youth, symbolized by the dent in the mid-section of the counterpane, was strangely there, in spite of a disturbing nightmare sequence. He tried to get back to sleep, secure in the thought of his masculinity, not totally fazed to not remember his fate where he cannot even lose the throb in the groin because of a bad dream! Where is life headed, anyway?

Sleep was not happening. After tossing and turning around for two yawning hours, he swung out of the counterpane, felt the momentary chill of the floor as his feet made contact with it. Reality hit him fuzzily at first, then the fists voluntarily bunched themselves to press the knuckles on to the half-closed eyebrows shielding ochred eyes from frayed nerves, frazzled mood and perturbed excuse for sleep. Slowly he stared the day like Kermit the Frog, not sure whether to lose himself into the slanted rays that have fallen on the floor, spotlighting the zillions of dancing worms of dust, through the excuse for trellises on his single window, or to delve deeply into the philosophy behind the agony of having to make his own morning coffee over an unbrushed foul tasting mouth of his own!

Clap... Lap... Dissolve...

Section one

§

Darkness

DARKEST BEFORE DAWN

a first novel expressing its fledgling dreams

by

KRISHNA KUMAR. S

My Writing Career begins...

That said, I won't add to this post. Chapters follow. You dare not visit here if you don't leave impressions.