It was a crowded evening at the restaurant. I was surprised to find it as this was the first time I found this place in this corner of the island despite my frequent visits. I was desperately looking for the cafe I had visited two years ago to celebrate my birthday but with no luck. That place used to serve the best smoothies. I was willing for a glass of red wine but to my surprise there was no existence of that place. The restaurant I came across is with Arabic food specialty as its name suggested. It was a busy Saturday night for them with so many touristy souls hanging in there from across the world. I could not find a better place and decided to take the ordinary-looking table unlike the fairy light-clad hut-tables that are overcrowdedly preoccupied. But my ordinary table gave me an extraordinary view I didn't expect. Right from where I sat could be seen a lean fellow with a Bob cap (my Bob Dylan-inspired headgear I would say!) sitting on a steel-framed chair with a guitar and a mic-stand in front.
Before I could think of anything else, that voice began to speak welcoming the evening guests at the restaurant. What a voice! He said his name too, but I didn't hear a word. I was completely drowned in that voice. It came from his heart. Or I could feel so. That soothing sound, that pain turning slowly into melody. Or maybe I was just imagining a bit too much in too short a time. He began singing with Let her go by the Passenger. And what voice again! And he started singing those popular solos one by one. But my soul and entire concentration got stuck with that first song. I couldn't just move. At all. Suddenly, the lady from the starlit hut-table across mine approached me gently. She was out on a dinner date. The fan at her hut-table was a little too breezy as she informed me, which made her approach me to request if we could swipe tables.
By now, my ordinary-looking table had transformed into an extraordinary one because of its strategic position to enable me to sit and look straight into the eyes of that Bob cap crooner even though from afar. But I thought it would be rude to say No to a lovely elderly couple and ruin their dinner date on a wonderful Saturday night like this. So I humbly obliged and soon we swiped our tables. To my sweeter surprise, I got a better and closer view of the Bob cap crooner if not a direct one. He was still crooning with that soothing voice. He took a few short breaks, or rather pauses to drench his drying throat before singing the next solo. That voice, the guitar strokes, those starlit hut-tables, commotion across dinner tables, people, laughter, everything made it such a wonderful night to call it almost magical.
I enjoyed the rest of that evening indulging on that soulful voice and my yet another ordinary-looking but delicious dinner of seafood fried rice with a glass of ice lemon mint. The drink and the voice made me feel a little tipsy. But I could confirm it was the latter. He sang quite a few solos from my favorite jukebox without even knowing so. And every time that voice took me to a new place, a new dream from the past as well as the present. I enjoyed live music after ages. It was a feeling I knew and how spirited it made my soul to feel. It had happened to me before as well. Well, a few years ago, Several times when I attended and heard such music with such voice. That contented feeling of the soul.
As I came back to reality, I realized that the voice was no longer singing. The Bob cap crooner was gone. The empty chair confirmed so. But my eyes continued looking over the chattering crowd hoping against hope they would spot him. Before I could roll my eyes over every possible corner and hut-table, someone tapped gently on my table right next to me. It was the Bob cap crooner.
"Hi, hope you enjoyed the music tonight", he said with a smile.
I looked at him, took a little pause and smiled with a positive nod. We had a brief chat over the ice lemon mint. I am not going to write about what we talked during that brief encounter. But I know I am going to remember that Saturday night, that musical evening, that voice, that Bob cap crooner, that guitar, those solos. Because I will know how it made me feel when I felt it.
Before I could think of anything else, that voice began to speak welcoming the evening guests at the restaurant. What a voice! He said his name too, but I didn't hear a word. I was completely drowned in that voice. It came from his heart. Or I could feel so. That soothing sound, that pain turning slowly into melody. Or maybe I was just imagining a bit too much in too short a time. He began singing with Let her go by the Passenger. And what voice again! And he started singing those popular solos one by one. But my soul and entire concentration got stuck with that first song. I couldn't just move. At all. Suddenly, the lady from the starlit hut-table across mine approached me gently. She was out on a dinner date. The fan at her hut-table was a little too breezy as she informed me, which made her approach me to request if we could swipe tables.
By now, my ordinary-looking table had transformed into an extraordinary one because of its strategic position to enable me to sit and look straight into the eyes of that Bob cap crooner even though from afar. But I thought it would be rude to say No to a lovely elderly couple and ruin their dinner date on a wonderful Saturday night like this. So I humbly obliged and soon we swiped our tables. To my sweeter surprise, I got a better and closer view of the Bob cap crooner if not a direct one. He was still crooning with that soothing voice. He took a few short breaks, or rather pauses to drench his drying throat before singing the next solo. That voice, the guitar strokes, those starlit hut-tables, commotion across dinner tables, people, laughter, everything made it such a wonderful night to call it almost magical.
I enjoyed the rest of that evening indulging on that soulful voice and my yet another ordinary-looking but delicious dinner of seafood fried rice with a glass of ice lemon mint. The drink and the voice made me feel a little tipsy. But I could confirm it was the latter. He sang quite a few solos from my favorite jukebox without even knowing so. And every time that voice took me to a new place, a new dream from the past as well as the present. I enjoyed live music after ages. It was a feeling I knew and how spirited it made my soul to feel. It had happened to me before as well. Well, a few years ago, Several times when I attended and heard such music with such voice. That contented feeling of the soul.
As I came back to reality, I realized that the voice was no longer singing. The Bob cap crooner was gone. The empty chair confirmed so. But my eyes continued looking over the chattering crowd hoping against hope they would spot him. Before I could roll my eyes over every possible corner and hut-table, someone tapped gently on my table right next to me. It was the Bob cap crooner.
"Hi, hope you enjoyed the music tonight", he said with a smile.
I looked at him, took a little pause and smiled with a positive nod. We had a brief chat over the ice lemon mint. I am not going to write about what we talked during that brief encounter. But I know I am going to remember that Saturday night, that musical evening, that voice, that Bob cap crooner, that guitar, those solos. Because I will know how it made me feel when I felt it.
Comments