#scurf 103: notes from leopold, 2016

an incomplete dirge i wrote in 2016 on The Leopold Cafe

Sitting here I feel vulnerable and a part of history in the making 

Next to me is the glass where the bullet hit

I sit here trying to imagine the chaos that might have unraveled then

The pandemonium

People going haywire

Running for lives; running for loved ones; silenced by the bullets

They haven't mended the bullet holes on the walls and glass ceilings and window sills 

the place wears them like badges of honour

all of this seems a haze rapidly wrapping up before me

People aware, unaware, patrons mostly, aware waiters selling the attack  to customers.

a baansuri wala plays a tune outside,

you cram your neck and take a look at the lane just by the cafe to find a Muslim man with a skull cap looking curiously back in your direction,

What a marvel is this country, conflict ridden yet compact

the smell of a sizzler a sneaks in, someone whistles in the background, humming the godfather tune…

It's a movie.. I’m telling you. This isn't reality

A drunk woman whizzed by... gazing at the tees that dangle across from me.. She was lost.. Her eyes wandering into the eventful evening.. Her mind meandering into the unknown.. A waiter tells her .. " ma'am the washroom is to your right" she smiles the widest that she would have in a month.. Her eyes twinkling with the knowledge of an unknown knowing how drunk she is.. She ambles along..

Am half reduced to tears, Thinking of the fate of the people who lost their lives here that day...

I call up ma - tell her am at Leopold where a terrorist attack happened a few years ago. She stammers tells me to leave the place immediately and stand somewhere in the corner of the street...

Where do we go from here...

What do you make of a loved one leaving so suddenly?