Poetic Sensibility

01- Finding The Way

        The corners of Samay's mouth lifted in a wry smile as he found himself looking forward to the evening-poetry-gathering that Sarah, his best friend, had organised at her home. He absolutely hadn't wanted to attend this damn thing. He remembered his vehement refusal when she had invited him over a week ago.

"No one can teach poetry," he had claimed. "It's not something that can be taught or learned."

Sarah had simply rolled her eyes and replied, "She is NOT coming to teach anyone. She just knows how to conduct a reading. Get your backside there on Saturday."

"I shall see," he replied.

"Do you always have to be such an a-hole?!," Sarah asked dryly.

"I prefer the term 'skeptic'".

       Why did he not want to go? He hated this sort of "performance" that people put up when it came to the arts. These book clubs and art organisations and slam poetry events were extremely pretentious. He wrote poetry for himself, and he was just fine with that. He didn't need any kind of validation. He couldn't wait to appear smug before Sarah when she would realize that this was going to be just another boring poetry reading. He tried telling her as much but she insisted on hosting the silly thing.

"Have you invited just about everyone?" he inquired.

"No, just a few people I know who are into poetry or writing."

"I am really hoping that by "few" you don't mean 30."

"Five," she said. "Including the debater we'll be six."

He'd been amused, "Debater? Is that what she calls herself?"

"Debater, Master, Conductor, call it whatever you want. It's a designation that caught on. She often said that she found herself engaging in a solitary debate whenever she found herself thinking."

He couldn't help feeling intrigued. The Solitary Debater. It had a nice ring to it, he admitted to himself. But he wouldn't be surprised if she was just another wannabe writer. He rang the doorbell and waited. He saw a dark shadow come over the peephole. The door swung open and he faced a smug Sarah.

"You couldn't resist," she said satisfactorily.

"Nothing wrong with a trial run," he replied, stepping into the living area. He could see 3 people seated at the round dining table in the dining area and spotted a familiar face. Smiling, he strode over to his friend, Kabir.

"I should've known you'd be here," he shook Kabir's hand.

"However, I am stunned to see you here. I believed you shy away from things like this."

Samay grinned, "Things like what?"

"Things like people," Kabir grinned back, knowing how much Samay avoided, well, everyone. "I look forward to hearing your work."

"I haven't got any to read here," Samay replied.

Kabir frowned and was about to say something when Sarah announced, "Oh she's here!"

Samay allowed himself to look at the girl behind Sarah. Oh well, she's not 40-something, he told himself as he drank in her next-door-girl appearance. She was dressed in a plain gray t-shirt with a small logo and nondescript dark jeans. Her hair was combed into a neat ponytail and a bag was slung over one shoulder. Such a plain-Jane, he thought. Then he glanced at her face. Intelligent eyes, he admitted grudgingly as her twinkling brown eyes perused him and then went on to examine the others. She walked lazily to the dining table and set down her bag as she took a seat. He found himself wondering what she would say first. Perhaps she will introduce herself and loftily explain how she has conducted hundreds of sessions such as this one before.

"Round," she announced. "Excellent."

"What?" Samay asked and immediately cursed himself inwardly for saying anything. He didn't want to be drawn into a conversation with her but couldn't help wondering what she was so pleased about.

She turned to look at him, her eyes bright and wide. "The table," she replied. "It's round. We're equals."

That's all she said. No lengthy explanation about the Knights of the Round Table. It's as if she didn't need to say it. What was important was conveyed. They were equals, she had decided. A part of Samay was dismayed as he found himself further and further intrigued by her. Maybe the afternoon won't be so dull after all, he allowed. Maybe, finding his way to Sarah's house was a good idea.