Dangers of Doodling

My hand was aimlessly moving on the paper as I had nothing to do;  It was one of those mundane,  autumn noons. And  YES! I was jobless too! I started channeling the voices from my ‘empty vessel’ to the sketchbook. Since knack is omnipresent, I have been bestowed with doodling as one of my sine-qua-non hobbies, without putting much use of it- anywhere.

The subject had started taking it’s form. The harmony of 4B & 6B pencil’s brisk, sharp movements on the paper was creating something that had been on my mind –something since the last Sunday’s lunch at Grigliato’s. The moment I was done with the sketch I started curiously admiring the protagonist.

“Who could it be?”, I murmured to myself while slowly taking my hands off the sketchbook. A loud “thud!” did bring me back to reality! After taking a quick 360 degrees scan of my room, I drew a conclusion that I had been happily daydreaming again. But what I saw next shook me off my feet; The subject of the sketch –an anonymous chef was blinking his eyes and staring grumpily. “Me? Are you talking to me?" as I shakily pointed the finger to myself. His nod was enough to set my world apart- as I was drawn inside the sketch in a jiffy! Holding me by my collar, he cornered me with a butcher’s knife and a grim expression. ”Is this for real? What did I do?!” I asked stutteringly.

 It was between those nanoseconds of quick time-travel that made me realize that it was the same restaurant where I was chowing down this Sunday. “ Grigliato” , more than a fanciful name, had been successful in woo-ing its clientele since 1991. Scrumptous Italian cusine and a countryside ambience to die for- factors that had bewitched me and my friend to order 15 successive plates of Parmesan-chicken and Riso. I guess we had pushed it too far when I recapitulated that it was this moustache- bearing chief cook, who was grumbling at us and had surrendered for not taking any further order. “ But I can spend my entire life, gorging on your food!” ,I fumbled like a puppy.  Twitching his eyebrows and aiming the  gruesome knife at me, he remarked “ Dobara Mat Poochna. Period!”