THE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE
-
Sagar
Mal Gupta (India)
Human
heart always craves for an experience and there are souls that would do
anything for a kick. But this hunger for new experiences may sometimes put one
in a pickle from which it becomes difficult to extricate oneself and only a
miracle save one.
A friend of mine, during his first visit to
Europe, had such a miracle. After his jaunt in Switzerland, he landed in the
proverbial city of Rome. After checking
in a three star hotel and sprucing himself up, in the evening he glided out of
the hotel for a rendezvous with the city life. The first place he decided to
make way to was the ARTISTS SQUARE, where the young artists not only sell their
paintings but also do paintings on the spot. The city of Rome looked fresh and
beautifully decorated like a bride. The dazzling neon light, huge electrified
ad boards, broad avenues dotted with trees thrilled him. With great excitement
in his heart, slinging a ‘Pentax’ from his shoulder, he sauntered along the
avenues thanking his stars which made his journey to this exotic but exquisite
country possible and knowing little what was in store for him.
As he was strolling along the road, drinking
in the beauty of the city of Rome, he was accosted by a Stanger in the
following words: “Excuse me, Sir. Can
you tell me the way to the Spanish Stairs?” “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m a stranger here”, said my friend. “Which country are you from?” piped the
stranger. “Oh, I am from India” came the reply. “What about you?”, enquired my
friend. “Oh, I am from Egypt. As we are
from two friendly countries in a strange land, what about having a drink with
me?” suggested the stranger. The invitation was readily accepted by my friend.
The stranger took him through so many lanes
and by-lanes. The journey seemed too long and unending but the excitement of
having a drink with an Egyptian in an exotic bar kept him moving. At last they
came to a seedy looking place. The pothouse looked like the Shakespearean trap
door. For a flash of a second, my friend hesitated but the romantic fancies led
him on and like an automaton, he descended the stairs.
As soon as they entered the bar, a familiar
bevy of beauties surrounded the stranger as also my friend. They were led to a gorgeous and ornamental
table. One of the beautiful girls sat with the stranger: another one with the
friend of mine. The stranger ordered champagne for himself and the girl. Like a
robot, my friend also ordered the same for himself and the girl chirping with
him. But soon my friend experienced an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his
stomach. He saw the barmaid and the stranger shooting furtive glances. He
realized that there was something fishy about the place because it was
completely deserted, eerie, and spooky. He soon realized that the stranger who
invited him for a drink was no stranger but one of the inmates of that den of
vice. He was at a loss to know as how to get out of that den of vice unscathed. Pretending as if
he had an appointment, he looked at his watch and said aloud, “I’m afraid I’ll
have to go. I have an appointment. Get
me the bill, please.” The bill was brought but he was petrified as he looked at
the figures. It showed fifty pounds.
That was incredible. He fumed and thundered and said that it was preposterous.
“How could they charge fifty pounds for a sip of champagne?’”, he
remonstrated. The owners of the bar were
unrelenting. But he put his foot down and said, “Nothing doing. I can’t pay. I don’t have this much money.”
Soon all of them surrounded him and were about to pounce upon him when they
heard the shuffling of feet. Perhaps three or four persons were coming down the
stairs. The owners of the bar changed their tactics and asked my friend how
much money he had. He replied, “Fifty
pence.” They thundered, “Out with it.” He parted with the fifty pence coin and
ran out of the bar as fast as his legs could carry him. He thanked the visitors
in his heart of hearts for the miraculous escape from that den of vice.