Rock N Roll

Dedication takes sacrifice.

I had been taught this many years ago by my father one day. That to stay truly committed to something, you needed to give up any other commitments you had. It meant placing your heart and soul onto the table, with the fear of failure right around the corner. Giving up everything to focus on one thing took true sacrifice, and there was always a chance that things wouldn't end with a happy ending. Determination was also the key. Without determination and drive, the inevitable fate of failure would catch up and claw its way onto the table, and that was something no one wanted to experience.

In a strange way it was the same for love. Love also didn't come at any easy cost. It too, took time and a lot of effort. Like dedication, love meant placing your heart and soul into the relationship and staying truly dedicated to the one that you loved. Without dedication, love between two people couldn't survive; the love would begin to crumble and disintegrate until there is nothing else left apart from two broken and fragile hearts, with blame swirling into this dangerous mixture. It was very easy, too easy in fact to start placing the blame on others, instead of looking back on the situation to realise that you too had made mistakes, and I, like so many others had fallen into this piteous trap.

It wasn't that I was not dedicated or committed; success and greatness ran through my family's veins like a fast running river. We were not afraid to put a foot wrong and stand in the spotlight, but for some reason, the need to feel appreciated and to take centre stage had not been passed onto me. Being in the background was what I craved; it was much easier to go about your business as an understudy than being the leading lady. My stomach would turn at the thought of ever being the centre of attention like my parents had been and still were. But over the last three and a half years, had gotten used to being in the eye line of others, especially after my mother and father dragged me into their latest successful project. Their latest success, the one that I was actually proud to be a part of lied in Café Lyric, a little café, right in the centre of London.

I had been working behind the counter for over two years. It was one of the only successes that my mother and father achieved that I was glad to be a part of unlike my father's ridiculous idea of starting a restaurant in which the food was served by waiters who sang and performed around your table. For some reason, Café Lyric felt different from all their other projects; it was current, trendy, and almost special in its own way, with natural roasted coffee and musical acts all in one.

I was lucky and fortunate to be a part of one of London's most recognised cafés and also handle the responsibility of running it on most weekends. It was a way that I could prove to my parents that I was responsible and that I could handle it on my own.

In a way, Café Lyric was one of the reasons why I felt like I belonged. It'd settled down my discomfort of myself straight away; as many of the customers walked in with a smile on their faces and they didn't see me as a social outcast, but as another person, and thanked me for my kindness with a smile on their faces.

The little café was opened three years ago and was run by my mother and father. They were two fairly wealthy people who conjured the idea of having a musical café by accident, but once they started their project, they couldn't stop it from occurring.

It was difficult to say why this particular project appealed to me. But within an instant of my parents' announcing it to my siblings and I, I knew I had to be a part of it. Perhaps it was the fact that I needed a distraction. It was the first step down a stretch of road that I was unfamiliar with. Work. It was my first and only job that I had. The fact that my parents' ran the café didn't change anything. I still had the same wages as the other employees and was fine with that.

After the second year of working at Lyric, my parents gave me the opportunity to run the café on the weekends, due to the fact that they were away starting another project in India once again. I was glad, glad to finally be getting something of my own to feel responsible of. The weekend saw a peak of sales and being given the responsibility to run the café on two of the busiest days in the week was a challenge.

I had been managing the weekend shifts for over a year. My parents took one look at the sudden influx of profit that had been making during my short run and gave me the full time job. They would stop by every now and again just to see how I was coping with the busy schedule of serving tea, coffee and the occasional sandwich to people. I also had the great task of booking musical acts to perform throughout the day.

I was currently down in Café Lyric, in the storage room to get another pot of tea bags out from the cupboard. It had already been another hectic Saturday, and by this point the day had not even reached its' peak

From experience, I could tell that the evening would bring as many people as possible through Café Lyrics doors, as the music began to get a little livelier. Sometimes it would get so busy that the tables and chairs we had scattered around the small room couldn't compensate for the amount of people who wanted to listen to the music. It was a fact that everywhere in London would be busy, especially on a Saturday evening.

The evening was just beginning to settle over the London skies, mixing the pigments of blue together as darkness seeped in and the day began to end. There were plenty of things I still needed to do before the regulars entered the café and demanded their usual orders. The café, before went to the storage room still was rather full at six o'clock. but I knew it would only get worse, so I remained in the room for a little while longer, to enjoy the small slice of serenity that I had managed to find.

The store room always had an aroma of tea and coffee mixed into one. It was a pleasant smell that emanated throughout the cafe. It was what lured people into buy and try our perfectly blended teas and coffees and it was another thing that I loved about the café.

As I was about to leave the store room, with a fresh jar of coffee in my hands, the loud strum of a guitar gained my attention and the apparent shaking of the boxes in the store room. It sounded rough and rocky, unlike the group who were playing softer music before. The music picked up its tempo as a drum beat kicked into the melody and from the store room I could hear every lyric that was sung. 'Rock or louder music is supposed to be played later, remember that when you book the acts, that's what my father told me when I first started working here.

Hesitantly, I headed out of the store room, to see the band that was performing and as I took a step closer to the main room the music began to increase in volume, not that it already hadn't been loud. I had no doubts that this band had not listened to what I had told them when booked them that the volume of their music should be kept to a minimal volume, especially as they were performing at the beginning of the evening. As I placed the coffee down onto the counter, a sigh escaped my lips. I turned to the stage where the boisterous band were performing, strumming their guitars loudly.

"Aren't you going to tell them to stop?" Amy, my friend and colleague shouted over the top of the music, her hands covering her ears. I wandered over to her, keeping a check on the band performing behind us. "They came in with their guitars and I thought they looked like a rock band, so I asked them to wait, but they wouldn't listen!"

I cursed under my breath, "Fine will, stop them, next time, block the stage or something and don't just stand there!" I sighed, turning my head to look at the customers who were less than pleased to be hearing a racket.

A few older, regular customers, who were not used to rocky music at this time, picked up their things and left without paying their bill. I wouldn't have blamed them; no one would want to enjoy a quick bite to eat with a rock concert going on behind them. It wasn't that the band's music wasn't good, it was very good in fact, but it was not the right time for them to be performing, and now, after speaking to Amy, I had to step in, be the driving force behind the café and be in the spotlight.

I'd had enough of the amount of happy customers who were leaving, so I steadily approached the four band members who were performing on the small stage. Three of them must have been in their early twenties, all tall and showing no signs of backing down, and the other, short, with a school tie around his neck, must have been the youngest member.

The rational thing to do would have been to wait for them to finish and talk to them after their performance and tell them that they could play later if they wanted to. But instead of doing this, I paused a few feet away from the stage, leaning closely against the counter, trying to communicate somehow with the lead singer, who was too caught up in singing to stand and have a chat. He stood above the rest of the band, wearing a blue checked shirt, the sleeves rolled up and skinny jeans, his dark hair flailing in the air as he rocked out to the music. When he regained his sight on the rest of the café, his eyes landed on me.

A small, subtle smile appeared on his lips as he sang and caught sight of the badge pinned onto my apron, signalising that to him was a person who had a problem with his band's performance. I sighed, it was pointless in trying to gain their attention or stop their performance, and after all, they did book the time slot. So instead, I stepped a few places forward so I was a matter of metres in front of the band. it was hard, hard to stand there whilst they played their loud music without at least putting my hands over my ears to block out the drum beats and guitar riffs, but I wanted to hear the words.

The guitarist, the same one who had clocked onto that was going to talk to them afterwards, smiled at me as the youngest member, presumably his brother due to the same hair colour stepped up to centre stage, trying to impress whoever was left in the café with his guitar riff. He stepped back, clasping his black guitar in his hands, playing a similar tune to his brother and checked whether I had left. And I hadn't left. I still stood firmly before them, even five minutes later, as each song flowed into the next, as if all of them knew that I wanted to stop them and carried on without a break or care in the world.

I shifted my eyes over to the rest of the café. More customers had left now, and I was left with only one final option, one which hoped I wouldn't have to do. A Saturday evening, was usually busy at Lyric, and right now, the only people brave enough to stay and listen were a young couple sat at the back, away from the loud music.

It was the final straw, and as the manager, I knew it was time to take drastic action and hopefully put an end to their performance, so I moved over behind the stage, where the amps were placed. I turned my head back to the band, just to check that they would stop before I had to make them. The lead guitarists span around soon after, watching me as I stood by the amps, his intense eyes conveyed that he wasn't going to back down.

It wasn't my place to interfere, and in a situation like this I would have preferred Amy to stop them and not me. I gripped one of the cables that led down into the leader's guitar and yanked it out of the socket, ceasing the loud strums that were coming out of his guitar. Instantly, the band stopped playing, as the leader worked out what had happened to his guitar.

"What the hell was that for?" He cursed, his gaze fixating on me. The rest of the band, followed in his actions, all their eyes ablaze with anger, and frustration.

I scoffed, and made eye contact with the lead singer, "We have a rule here, and rock music is not allowed to be played until after eight, we have one special slot for rock bands to take the spotlight, you should've booked that one."

A heavy air of silence hung over the café as the band took in what I just said, their gaze all went over to their leader, waiting for an order, waiting for him to reply. He looked at me with a hinting smile and pushed past his brother, snatching the lead out of my hand andl plugging it back into its socket. And finally he said

"Well maybe you should have checked us out before booking us for this time."

I rolled my eyes at this and pulled the cable straight out again, the sound of it falling and hitting the floor echoed in the silent café. I shook my head, remembering that the man in front of me surely must have known about the café and muttered, "Well I would have presumed you and your band knew about this rule, especially as we are a well-known café in these parts."

He huffed, brushing his hair out of his eyes and said, "I knew about this place alright, who doesn't? I just didn't know about the timings that's all, now can we get back to performing?"

I laughed at this, "You're The Ravens right? Unique band name! I spoke to one of you on the phone, I told you about the timings and it looks like they ignored me."

The leader sighed, and turned to his younger brother, playfully hitting him on the arm, "Why didn't you ask for the later spot Kabir?" Kabir, the younger brother, shook his head and then proceeded to rub his arm, "I don't know, you're the bloody leader, why didn't you do it, I mean I used to take the bookings before you became in charge and stole my thunder!"

I quickly interjected, as the older brother glared at his sibling, prepared to start a fight at any moment, "Look, I don't know what your problems are but we don't currently have an act next week, so maybe you could come back and rock out then."

The guitarist chuckled, his eyes avoiding looking at his brother, "I don't think that will suffice for this one's mistake."

"Fine, you can stay here for as long as you want for the rest of the evening, everything is on the house." I offered with pleading eyes.

The lead singer smiled at looked down at the ground in hesitation. He truly wanted his brother to take the blame for getting the booking wrong. Perhaps he was hesitant about my offer as he thought he would be taking advantage of the situation or that he wanted something else. But after a few seconds of thinking he said, "Thanks, you don't need to do that."

I smiled, "Trust me, I wanted to."

The evening soon trickled into the darkness of the night and the calmness of the music flourished into rock n roll as another band stepped up to the stage. I

spent the evening feeling very guilty about stopping the performance, for getting someone who looked like he had been getting a lot of stick into trouble by his brother. But it had to be done. What made it worse was that the band that performed, The Ravens lingered in the café until it was nearly time to close. As I served the other waiting customers, couldn't help but glance over at the band sat at a table near to the stage, often catching the lead singer watching me. It didn't help that his gaze kept flickering over to me.

Luckily for me, Amy took over serving them which took the guilt off of my shoulders. Still, couldn't help my gaze resting on the band and in particular the lead guitarist. He seemed different from the rest of them and his brother. By now I was absolutely sure that the two of the band members, the lead guitarist and his brother, were Indians just like me. But their songs didn't show any instinct of them not being a local.

It was close to closing time, that I noticed that the two of them were still lingering in the corner, talking quietly. I grabbed a cloth from one of the cupboards underneath the sink and began to wipe down the counter. Business was as it always was for a Saturday, busy, and now closing time was in sight. Sighing, I glanced up to see the younger brother standing right in front of me, his eyes glazed with anxiety.

"Erm..," he began, scratching the back of his head, "You don't mind if me and my brother play do you?"

I looked at him for a moment with a glint of surprise in my eyes, and crossed my arms in

here then yes, go ahead."

He smiled back, a genuine smile that was unlike that of his brothers. Continuing to clear the counter and take my share of the wages out of the checkout, I paused when a melodic tune was strummed out of the two guitars. It was softer and harmonious compared to their other song which could be heard from the next street and would have been perfect for the time they were scheduled at.

I glanced up to see the two brothers playing a calm tune on their guitars and singing along to the melody. The younger of the two had a much more melodic voice which harmonized perfectly with his older brother, who had a more rugged singing voice. Together the two sounded impeccable.

Their song finished with a simple chuckle from the younger brother and somehow I wished they had performed something similar instead of a rockier song earlier. I went back to my final job of washing down the counter and collecting my share of the wages from the checkout, but stopped again when the sound of footsteps echoed towards me and the door opened, signalling to me that one of them had left.

"It was nice of you to let us play," the deep voice of the older brother filled my ears, "And stay here for the evening you really didn't have to, you know?"

My gaze drifted upwards, and for a moment he eyed me in an amused manner. Perhaps he thought that I would ignore him, just like had done throughout

the evening and was shocked that I looked up to meet his gaze. I smiled and went back to cleaning the counter, before saying, "I wanted to before you knocked your brother out, really I was looking out for him, not for you."

He laughed, "Well if you knew him better you wouldn't have helped him, he's an interesting case that one," he stopped in his tracks, "I take it you liked our song then?"

"Yeah, it was a bit better than earlier," I began, putting the cloth onto the side and beginning to lock up the till, "Not that the music earlier wasn't good, it was brilliant actually."

He smiled, "So you do like a bit of rock n roll then?" he leaned forward, resting his arms onto the counter, "No offence, you just look like more of a classical girl than someone who is interested in The Beatles."

"But I'm not a classical girl, believe me."

Rock Lover laughed a hearty laugh that filled up the cafe and leant in slightly, "Well, that's a lesson learned of not judging a book by its cover, you know, I'm not really a rocker, not really."

I arched an eyebrow and looked at him with a sense of shock. "It was not the best idea to contradict you, especially after performing a rock song." I cleared my throat slightly, before turning around, untying my apron, letting another awkward silence take over our

conversation. It was plain to see that I didn't really want to talk to him, that just wanted to go home and go to bed. It was also clear that he didn't really want to talk to me.

Alternatively I muttered, "You're going to be a pretty shit 'rock god' in the future then, why you don't like your own music?"

My statement made him smile, "I do like my music, the style is a bit off putting, and prefer softer rock, pop music if you like, where the lyrics don't get disjointed with the melody."

"You feel that the message of your music gets lost because of the pure volume of your music, I said, hanging my apron up onto a peg. "Believe me, I get it.

The guitarist's gaze was still fixated on me as I turned around to face him once more. A part of him seemed surprised by my clever comeback and another part of him seeming impressed. Shaking my head, I reached down underneath the counter, to reach for my bag and coat. He must have realised that my intention was to leave, leave without uttering another word to him because as I walked around the counter he followed me to the door.

"Wait." He interjected, "It would be nice to get your name, seeing as I will be back next week, me and you could have another little, tea break and chat."

Hastily, I spun around to face him. I had let my guard down and now for the second time in my life I was on the verge of letting someone break down my walls and this time it was a man, a very handsome man at that.

A sigh escaped my lips and I broke the silence, "My name is Mandira."

"That's a pretty name," he paused, staring down at the ground, "Where you from then? India right? But you work here. So now I suppose you're from somewhere behind the iron curtain I suppose?"

I laughed at that, "No actually, shifted here in London when I was twelve. So this is where I belong now."

"Well it's kind of the same thing." He joked and looked at me with his piercing eyes, "I'm Karan." A smile played on my lips as we walked outside into the fresh autumn air.

There was a prepared look on his face as I turned around to face him. I smirked slightly before saying, "Well, it was lovely to talk to you." With that I started moving.

"Wait Mandira," He pressured, stopping me from walking away from him. "You will be working next week when I come back right, and after that? What I am trying to get at is will I see you again." I pondered the thought around in my head for a few seconds, watching him wait for my reply.

"I guarantee it Rockboy, guarantee it."