THE MOCKTAIL ALCHEMIST

THE CONFESSION

Almost a month has passed since Shaina returned from Goa. The fantasy of the Goa trip faded, and so did Shaina’s thoughts about that fateful night. Every morning she was at her workplace right on time, She would quietly take her seat behind the desk and spend the whole day typing away, lost in the monotony of the clicking keys.

Shaina Verma always felt she was out of place, not just in her small, middle-class neighbourhood but even in her own family. At 23, she was stuck in a job she despised. She worked as an assistant in a local corporate office, filing paperwork and staring at spreadsheets is what she did all day. She wasn’t bad at it, but she didn’t care enough to excel. Her real passion lay elsewhere, though she couldn’t quite put it into words.

Her parents saw her as a rebel, someone who refused to conform to societal norms. “Why can’t you be like the Sharma girls?” her father would say, referring to the neighborhood’s daughters—one a doctor, the other an engineer. Shaina would roll her eyes and mutter, “Because I’m Shaina, not a Sharma.”

Even though the thought of that evening was out of her mind, the feeling was not. She just couldn’t shake it off. She never felt so alive. On one such evening, as she typed on the computer, a decision was made in her mind.

At dinner, she brought it up casually, trying to gauge her parents’ reaction.

“So… you know how people say you just know when you find your calling?”

Her father didn’t look up from his plate. “What’s this about?”

“I think I have found mine. I want to become a mixologist.”

Her father looked confused. “Now what on Earth is a mixologist?”

“Ah well, sort of a bartender. But it’s more of an art and craft of…..,” Shaina was interrupted by a loud clattering sound.

The fork from her father’s hand fell onto the table. His face darkened. “Bartending? Have you lost your mind? What kind of career is that for a girl?”

Her mother remained silent, her eyes darting between Shaina and her father.

“Papa, it’s not just pouring drinks. It’s an art. I felt something… magical. Like I was meant to do it.”

“You did it? When?? Where??” her father blurted out.

“At Goa” Shaina whispered with her head low.

Her father stood up immediately. He looked at Shaina’s mother and said, “See, that is why I never wanted her to go on that trip in the first place. Hadn’t you forced…….” He stopped abruptly leaving the sentence incomplete. “End of discussion. I won’t have my daughter bringing shame to this family.” He declared and left the room.

Shaina stormed to her room, tears streaming down her face. She paced back and forth, her thoughts racing. “Why can’t they understand? It’s not just a job—it’s who I am.”