This is a beautiful cafe/patisserie that I stumbled upon in the most unexpected of places. The door opened invitingly to cough out a woman with a child in her arms, a sublimely satisfied expression on her face, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and a scent that was hard to place but was of something delicious, perhaps with almonds in it (and surreptitiously sweet) wafted, like a hooked finger, alluring like a woman's hidden bosom. Perhaps it was the name, but I heard a melody, played on a bansuri flute. It was a simple melody, with three notes recurring endlessly. Sa-ni-saa. Sa-ni-saa. Sa-ni-saa. Jasmine climbers shielded the cruel world, of sportscars and discounted brand apparel, from barging into this tranquil universe. My universe, where there was me and my cup and none. And I sipped from my cup of nothingness.
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