Remembering

Every Sunday morning, Yoginder visits this particular restaurant and sits by himself. His thoughts sweep him to another time. Fifty years ago, he met Zaira for the first time here. She had come with her family for breakfast, and he had instantly been smitten by her eyes: pale blue, curious but intense. She had caught his gaze and dipped behind her father's shoulder, watching him suspiciously through the crescent cut of her burqa. He smiled unknowingly, holding her for a few moments with his eyes; the staff occasionally disturbed his view with the haphazard scurry of early morning. She looked away, of course, but her eyes kept returning to him, like a person curious to know the end of a spinning top.

Distracted by her presence, he took a sip from his chai and accidentally burnt his lip. There was a momentary scuffle with the saucer; the tea leaped from the cup, broke against the glass table and made thin lines of dirty brown. Zaira giggled noiselessly, bowing her head. Embarrassed, Yoginder struggled to wipe the table clean with the corner of his sleeve, smearing it further. A waiter with bushy brows and dark eyes rushed to his rescue. As grunted he cleared the remnants of the chai. Zaira had not looked in Yoginder's direction after that, behaving like strangers ought to, ignorant of the other's presence. Yoginder began to wonder whether there was something between them or if he had unnecessarily made up stories in his head. 

A few moments later, the family finished breakfast; the father licked the final crumbs and lifted himself from the chair. His wife and daughters followed suit. With bowed heads, they formed a line behind him and discreetly disappeared behind a door. Yoginder remained in his chair, speechless, watching the wiped tea stains vaporise like ghosts on the glass table.

{Fiction, Scribbles, Notes, Stories, Tiny Visual Tales, Love, Memory}

Store Alert: Eye Candy

The thing about stationery is... you get greedy. It's never enough, is it? I am a compulsive hoarder, I confess. I can never have enough of those classic moleskines, those mulit-hued post-its or those gorgeous fountain pens. Le sigh. So, if you are a hoarder like me {I like to use the phrase: a collector of good things}, you must stop here. 

Or, you could just continue reading. 

The other day, I came across an online store, dedicated in all its entirety, to bespoke diaries. I spent {I kid you not} a good 20 minutes surveying the goods. I'm a bit bothered about the name though: the store is called Eye Candy. But I suppose for folks like me who get weak in their knees at the sight of stationery, the products are quite... well, eye candy-esque. The rich, ivory leather journal presented in a neat bow took my heart away {I can almost hear myself saying, "My precioussss..."}

Next up on the Eye Candy shelf is a special family of distressed leather diaries [very classy, I may add} which come with an elegant orange band and a charming brass trinket. What I particularly like about these stationery gems is that their design is subtle; nothing is too over-the-top. These are the perfect companions for a travel-junkie like me. 

While the vintage, hand-crafted journals are absolute stunners, there are also paper-notebooks which carry quirky quotes {When Life Gives You Hands, Make Handmade or It's Time Again for Another Saturday in the Office} written in playful type and graphics. 

There is a bit for everybody, I believe. There are journals in classic black or beige for those important {read: serious} meetings, as well as those easily-fit-in-my-pocket notebooks for Saturday afternoon scribbles while you wait for a friend at a cafe. These are definite keepers.

Here's the way to the candy store or follow them on tumblr. 

{design, stationery, diaries, notemaking, store, Eye Candy, journals, classic, writing}