Musical Chairs

In the ethereal realm of Darjeeling's Selim Tea Garden, where the boundaries between reality and imagination blurred like the mist shrouding the hills, stood Second Chance House. At its heart dwelled Mrs. Chaitea Sarkaar, a figure both earthly and otherworldly, her essence woven into the very fabric of the house's existence.

As Mrs. Chaitea traversed through the day, she felt the palpable hum of unseen energies, each chair emitting a radiant aura that whispered secrets of ages past and futures yet to unfold.

“Come into my parlour,” said the spider to Mrs Chaitea Sarkaar. “I have sofas that are snug and deep. There is a fire that will keep you warm and I have many stories to tell.” Mrs Chaitea, for whom, story is a magic word, immediately agreed and sank into one of the comfy sofas. The spider continued spinning its silken web while it told her about how vain the silly fly was and how a few words of flattery cost him his life.

The stick insect, that was her protector and always watched over Mrs Chaitea, was eavesdropping behind the door. As the spider started coming near Mrs Sarkaar, the stick insect signalled the Blue Whistling Thrush and it broke into song. The spell of the spider was broken and Mrs Chaitea ventured out into the garden. It was a beautiful day. She chose an intricately carved cane chair. On a table next to her was a pot of Roasted Tea and some honey. Spotting the honey, the bees came to Mrs. Chaitea and she asked them, “May I taste your ware?”

The bees waited with baited breath for the verdict. “Lip smacking,” said Mrs Chaitea. They buzzed away contentedly.

A squirrel scurried up to Mrs Chaitea and told her that her phone was ringing in the study. It was time for some serious work on a straight-backed chair whilst tip-tapping on the laptop. She shut out the outside world and delved into the work at hand - answering mails and whatsapp messages, sorting out complaints and compliments. The flying squirrels were sent out with important messages to be delivered immediately. It was time for a break.

She chose a rocking chair to read an old favourite. Mrs Chaitea and the book were on the move. She rocked to and fro, losing herself to the world of the author. Suddenly she felt some butterflies who were reading over her shoulder. Now Mrs Chaitea can’t stand people reading over her shoulder, so she decided to close her book and prepare for the expected visitors. Very soon everyone was seated at the table on plush wooden chairs.

Once the meal was done, some people leaned back contentedly and allowed the food to gently digest as they savoured the last few bites. Some others walked upto the wrought iron bench and discussed the surreal and the silly.

As the day dissolved into the night, Mrs Chaitea curled herself on the planter’s chair. Half asleep, half awake, the planters’s chair is perfectly aligned to the lazy curve of the spinal cord. As she watched the night lights and the elegant moonwalk, Mrs. Chaitea discovered a testament to the transformative power of stillness and reflection in simple act of sitting. Amidst the chairs of Second Chance House, surrounded by the wonders of nature's embrace, Mrs. Chaitea knew that she had found her true home—a place where the boundaries between the mundane and the magical blurred, and every moment held the promise of discovery and renewal.

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