I would have completely missed out on this well-organized event, had it not been for a casual call to Vinod (A friend and fellow blogger). The hush, hush tones he spoke in, I thought I caught him during an office meeting and was about to punch the “end call’ button, when he said, “I am at the book reading, haven’t you read about it in the newspaper?” My mind went blank, huh? Then I did recollect reading about “River of Smoke” in the morning. Somehow, the event slipped completely out of my mind.
I was little upset for realizing about it so late. I mean the clock stated it was seven o’ clock and I barely had ten minutes to jump into something comfortable and make a dash for the door. Since Park Hotel was a fairly new establishment, I wouldn’t place it in my mind’s geography, nevertheless I managed to locate it. When I stepped into the hotel’s hall Amitav was responding to queries. The crowd looked elite. The evening, without an iota of doubt, promised to be interesting. Looking around, I couldn’t but help thinking why wouldn’t it be interesting with such beautiful women and classy wine flowing from all directions?
On stage, Amitav answered each query in a candid and free-flowing manner. The hall was packed from wall to wall. Along with a few foreigners, the city’s who’s who in the literary world seemed to be present. I was even able to spot our English lecturer with his unmistakable salt and pepper beard in traditional attire akin to all literary figures. In fact, everybody was dressed to kill.
Oh! I forgot, there was this lady who was not just dressed to kill but murder. Initially, when I first saw her, I was like: am I seeing right or are my eyes playing a trick on me? Her innovativeness of wrapping herself with just the sari while trying to do away with the blouse – caught me completely off guard. What me?! It caught everyone unawares. I saw people giving second, third, fourth…glances at her. When I later discussed about this lady (who held everybody’s attention for “nothing”) with Vinod, he shot a shy smile which conveyed what words would have failed to.
Finally, when the session came to a close, drinks were served. Although a complete teetotaler, I ventured out to try some wine purely on medical grounds. Of late, I have been getting a severe chest pain; I read somewhere that wine is good for the heart. So, solely with the doctor’s guidance on heart, I polished off a glass and was looking for yet another one, when suddenly my feet started to wobble, my head, reel and my mind trip over. I suddenly felt tipsy.
I had the strong urge to sit and think straight. But the mind had already started to deny the heart’s orders, I thought, first things first. Don’t ever lay your hands on the wine glass again. Second, go do something that will get your mind off the drink. So, I sauntered out of the hotel, drew some fresh air into the lungs and returned somewhat feeling a little invigorated and detoxicated.
When I came back the air cleared. On stage, I saw the author signing off his name with a flourish on the insides of his book which his loyal readers have bought. Couldn’t resist the urge, I bought a book for myself and stood in line for his signature. The waiter, who was the devil in disguise, tempted me with yet another glass…looking him in the eye, I screamed, “No”. For a moment, he looked startled but managed to walk away with his nose held high.
A few minutes later, the line edged forward and I was with the author on the platform breathing the same air. I was not just happy but floating on clouds. We did the small talk. I told him how much I liked his books. During the discussion, I informed him that Shobha de on her blog had good words for him about the way he interacts with the crowd during book launches. He smiled and replied, “ I have read that. It’s pretty nice of her to say that” It’s complete magic the way Amitav converses and puts everyone instantly at ease . When he put the signature on the book with my name - I could feel my head reel, knees wobble, and my mind trip over. Yes, I felt tipsy for the second time that night.
