I am slumped on my thinking chair, in a state of stupor with something hovering over my head bringing along despair. Large mala of rudraksh around my neck, calms and cools me. It is a stupendous feeling. Each bead stacked tightly gripping one another holding hands and forming a chain with a promise to never let each other go. The thinking chair had been passed over as an heirloom from one generation to the other. My great-grandfather got this as a gift from the maharaja whom he served as an accountant of some sort.
The brown oak chair with foot long arm-rests - a perfect example of workmanship sloped at an angle that calms the muscles and lays little stress on blood vessels as it regulates blood flow;incredible piece of scientific beauty, it was made from ash wood; still glowed with exquisite inlaid carving in the chair legs which were thick as an elephant's feet.
Last time as long as I can remember, when it was moved , there was a huge ruckus. Movers and Packers with specialists were called to move the gluttonous rigid piece of lumber. My father, who attached and has both sentimental value and a sense of pride, gets it cleaned everyday taking care to prevent any scratch or speck that my cause a blemish on its brown tanned but very soft surface; dotes it and sometimes his affliction becomes a nuisance and seems irksome.
It is set up in the foyer at the entrance; with its hypnotic beauty and murals on walls with antique paintings, the foyer's presence is celebrated by mixing it with vases from China, Egypt in addition to the ones whose origin can be traced back to Prussian Empire, still shining and sparkling making me wonder whose was the emperor or royalty who last saw his image in it as I watch myself today.
The chair consistently remains the prized jewel among all the possessions on which I sit now and think and crunch in letters with my Macbook Pro resting on my soft yet firm thighs; it has a magical aura about it that sets in gear the thoughts that never seemed to be existing which it calls, I suppose, from the those wise time when it was made. Whatever it does, wise brains of grandfather and father have aptly named our house,'the thinking chair', befitting the glory brought upon the family since it came.
