Ram was 25 now.He looked up, out of the window. the cloudless skies, huge shadows leaping upon the veranda. The wind was gay and the breeze cool.He lighted his cigarette with a dragon faced zippo.Ram liked collecting small things of bigger beauty.Though his cigarette was still navy cut, he said that imported ones didn't have 'em kick.It was Saturday and he yawned off the week's decay.
There was one thing Ram could not understand.He thought a lot about things he could do and things he was doing.He was not happy with the present order of things.His mind always in a constant state of strife.Conflict from the moment he was in his senses.The problem, he was a genius.
He emptied the contents of rum tea into the sink.Too much heat the rum was inflicting on his tender tummy.Rum tea was a recipe of his own and i can't give that out.So here's what happens.
Someone's at the door.Not expecting anyone he opens the door.First impressions last longer, a shady figure dressed in grays, looks amicably at him.He questions this man with an inquiring look.
"I have come to give you something in return of a favor" he says.
Ram though unsure of his strange guest allows him in for this man carried an aura around him.He was a replica of some greek God.Perfect face,lush eyebrows, high forehead, aquiline nose, exquisite features.His body as agile as a cheeta's .Well defined muscles. His neck strong, with 'em muscles beneath bunching up in superb tension and sensuous vitality.
"Ram can you write a rhythm for me?"- Jason asked.
"Rhythms are not written Sir,and how do you know my dexterity with the keyboard?"-Ram.
"I know what i know and i can help you create the single best piece of music which you can play"-He said.
"I am listening"-Ram was now listening intently.
"Do you know that every note you play is a footnote of your life, and that struggle would consist of a harmonic at a particular frequency"-Jason
Ram knew this ,and instinctively struck some chords on the keyboard that depicted more of chaos. But he liked them.
"Keep the rhythm straight and let your right hand play some tinkering song. Like I loved you yesterday ta boom, But yesterday i was a sane man Ta Da.Today has gone, dum dum and i get your memories Na na na"-Jasaon grinned.
"Thats sick"Ram said "listen to this"
Ram kept his rhythm and started a blues wrapper, Just imagine this as i write.Silence, and it said everything.
Tears rolled down his cheek.Ram looked up at his saviour."what now?"-he demanded.
"You were never made for music.Music is like worship.Just playing an instrument won't make you better.You need to improvise and impoverish yourself with the chaos.Starve on notes and do nothing but play.Its not weekends that will make you a great musician."-Jason
"Do something that comes natural to you.Love it as your work and never let down.ENjoy every second of your life. Love women and have lustful nights.Make money and give the poor.SMile and be happy.This life is not your last.But the best thing you can do in this life is the only thing you can do here.Never forget that."
Ram has an elegant mustache now sprayed with genuine white.Rama's cocktail is the name of the sporadic inn in Goa,his liquors are an exquisite taste of herbs, alcohol plus secret ingredients. He serves from day to dusk.Luminaries illuminating his inn.Rock shows,folk dances and exhibitions finding a way to his patronage. At 60 Ram is content, a connosier of rare tastes. A family of varied cultures , wife of Italy , children, two adopted from Brazil.But Ram knows his trade and what do you think is his last wish? That when he dies the last item on the menu be changed from Rum Tea to Ram Tea.