Tears of heaven...

I noticed the little blotch when I sat down at the black marble table at Dolphin bar. It was the size of a one-rupee coin. At first sight, it looked to me like the remains of torn-off sticker. Further exploration with what was left of my fingernails suggested otherwise. It just wouldn’t come off. I left it alone and placed my order of rum, coke and a pack of cigarettes. The blotch was forgotten; for the time being at least.

The blotch recaptured my attention after the first drink. There were tiny droplets all over the blotch. They looked like beads of perspiration. The blotch was alive. My curious eyes examined the blotch closely. There were no water sources in the vicinity. How on earth? I checked my elbow, for it was rested on the blotch a few moments earlier. Dry and hence cleared. Could it be a spring of some sort, I wondered aloud. My drinking partner, who by now had my attention, agreed. I was amused as much as I was perplexed. These things never went down too easily with me. I picked up a piece of paper and wiped the water off. The blotch regained its innocence.

Three drinks down and the blotch was at it again. Damn. I wiped off the water on numerous occasions. It was almost becoming a ritual. I was the priest and the blotch was stigmata. And religiously, I kept on wiping the blood, err, water off. I was six drinks down by now and it wasn’t funny or amusing anymore. I looked up, my eyes closed in prayer. But all I had to do was open my eyes.