Week 14 Story: "The Bartender"

"Shot glasses". Source: Pixabay

She pulled her black hair up into a ponytail, revealing a small tattoo of a fire below her collarbone. From behind the bar, she swiftly mixed two drinks at once; a pink cocktail in a gold rimmed glass and a brown liquid poured into a shot glass. It looked like rum, but from the way she had swirled it just before she'd added it to the cup made me think otherwise. She always added her own touch to everything.

"Thanks, love," one man said as he downed the shot glass in one gulp. He was swaying a bit, clearly this wasn't his first one. He smiled with a drunken haze. Probably not his last.

"What can I get you?"

I felt her fiery gaze before I saw she was looking at me. A smile tugged at my lips as I turned to meet that same gaze hidden beneath long lashes. I knew she didn't remember me in this form. It had been far too long for that. There was no guarantee that she would even remember me in the previous one either.

"I'll have a shandy, please."

She nodded, and briskly collected one from the freezer. I could almost hear the crackle in her voice as she called out a greeting to a bar regular. He was an old man and he beamed as widely at her as she did at him. They exchanged a few words and the old man laughed heartily. It was good to see she hadn't forgotten her sense of humour. I had taught it to her after all. She returned with the shandy.

"What made you get that tattoo?" I asked before she could move on to another customer. She raised an eyebrow at me, and I could see amusement dance in her eyes. I knew the look. She was weighing the chances that I would think her crazy.

"It reminds me where I came from," she stated nonchalantly, and grabbed a towel to wipe down the counter.

"You were born in a place that was on fire or something?" I asked, trying not to snicker. I already knew the truth. This woman, with intelligent eyes and skin like dark satin, was more than what she appeared to be. She had a dazzle in her eyes before she told me.

"More like born from it," she whispered and winked, probably used to telling customers this story. Probably used to having them be too drunk to remember anyway the next morning. She added lightly,
"Of course, that's just the beginning of the story."

"Oh believe me, Panchali, I know."

I could see the shock shake her deeply and she dropped the towel in her hands. I smiled widely with that hint of mischief she knew too well.

"Krishna?"

"Fire Tattoo". Source: Flickr

Reference: Draupadi: The Fire-Born Princess, Saraswati Nagpal. [Printed Graphic Novel]

Author's Note: For my last two weeks of reading, I read the graphic novel on Draupadi, and in it, the author really develops a strong relationship between Krishna and Draupadi. In this version, they are close friends even before Draupadi meets the Pandavas, and throughout her story, they remain that way. Krishna is her advisor, confident and comforter. In my retelling, I decided to play around a bit with the ideas of reincarnation, and here, in this life, Draupadi is a bartender and Krishna has come to find her. She doesn't recognise him at first, but only a few people in the world (and in her many lives) call her Panchali, which is another one of her names alongside Krishnaa (because of her devotion to Krishna). Krishna, being a divine being, recognises her immediately, and speaks to her for a bit first before revealing himself.