Some monkeys ran around playfully on the roof of a house. Mr Markam watched closely from the closed panoramic window. What made the view unique was the old architecture of the houses around that had been maintained along with trees which remained untouched throughout the years.
Mr Markam looked at his watch and it was time for breakfast. He walked out the door and ensured that it was locked. He found the hotel different and a new form of liking, which was rare among the hotels booked by the office for work tours.
This was the second day; except for some variations the rest of the items in the breakfast buffet remained the same. Mr Markam sat down with toast and a cup of black coffee to start things off. He enjoyed his breakfasts; it was the meal which made him satisfied the most with what he had eaten.
As Mr Markam applied butter on the toast, he heard someone sit on the adjacent table, he glanced at the gentleman who was already smiling with an expression that said he was eager to talk.
“Good morning,” said the man
“Good morning,” said Mr Markam wishing this is where the words will end and peace will prevail
And it did, the man was busy eating a banana. His plate was a mess with fruits and curry and sandwiches; a grape had rolled out the plate and there was much more in there.
“I saw you yesterday as well,” spoke the man
Mr Markam didn’t try hard to recall but he couldn’t.
“Are you here to attend marriage as well?” asked the man
“No.. this is work related”
“Oh, must be nice getting to travel around like this, staying in fancy hotels”
Mr Markam smiled trying not to get into the discussion of how the pressure of work absorbs out the enjoyable part about travelling and staying in hotels. It was 8:10 and around 8:20 a call would interrupt the little peace that could be found on such days.
“I am here to attend a marriage,” continued the man, “I had insisted that I would only come if my room was booked in this hotel, including food and everything. I had researched it out, it’s among the ones with the highest rating online. My family for some reason decided not to stay here with me and rather at my relative’s house, but you know it’s their loss.”
Mr Markam looked at the man ready to eat his second boiled egg while still chewing on the first one. This man had left all the laughter and smile coated conversations and the various other enjoyments of a marriage function and here he sat alone for the hotel.
‘People have their preferences,’ thought Mr Markam, ‘but somehow this seems the opposite of sensible.’
Mr Markam’s phone rang an official call.
Written by Anuran Chatterji
Early Morning Memories 