“Pudding!… burger!… pizza!

Food!

Anything… give me anything! But give me fast… I am dying!”

Gaston’s cap lay askew, his apron was billowing, while perspiration ran down his face, head and back.

“Chef! Open your eyes… see you are here!” someone said with confidence.

It was soon going to be time to open the restaurant and their most popular Michelin star Chef was lying on the floor… hallucinating. “Call Monsieur Andre right now, boy!” said the same voice.

I had joined the kitchen just two days back and was still trying to find my way through the maze of tables, stoves, ovens, mixers, fryers, pantry, refrigerators.

Nonetheless, I went running, but banged into someone  from the opposite end. The expensive, tailored, pinstriped suit, long silky hair tied up in a pony tail, the neatly trimmed beard and horn rimmed spectacles, all added up to a movie star in my mind. While I wondered who it was, someone said, “Monsieur Andre… this way please! Chef Gaston is here… seems to be a little delirious too.”

“All right everyone, back to work, I have got this… Call the ambulance Pierre!” said the elegant Andre.

That was the owner of our fine dining restaurant ‘Soups and Souffles’.

Gaston is our star of course. His cherubic face, bright blue eyes, pencil moustache, was kind of cute. And the chef’s cap over his thick brown hair made him attractive. His deep baritone, was like the rich creamy sauce that he added to his signature dishes, full of zest. The footfalls and the reviews were testimony to the popularity of the place.

A string quartet played soulful music, streaming out of the open windows along with mellow golden light just beamed a warm welcome. I was taken up with that, barely a teen, I had come recently to the mesmerising city of Paris. The lone Parisienne from our little village,  flaunted his princely earnings, buying drinks for all at the village pub.

Well, Paris is delightful! She captivated me from the moment I set foot on her.

That evening as I walked past the ‘Soups and Souffles’ the enigmatic smells enticed me. The perfume of the ladies elegantly dressed in flowing chiffon and silk, the cigars hanging in the mouths of rich gentlemen, and the aroma of delicious meals cooked with rich, fragrant ingredients,  was a heady mix. I was drawn in as if by magic.

Taking in the tables set elegantly, with fine china and crystal, occupied by the elegant ladies and gentlemen, exchanging polite conversation and merry laughter left me speechless. The silent waiters carrying trays laden with the aromatic food, drew me in further. Nobody noticed the gawking teenager, lean and lanky, walking towards the kitchen. Once I entered, the chaotic activity surprised me. Mounds of vegetables were being shredded, diced and chopped. On giant sized pans, food sizzled, releasing mouth watering aroma. There, commanding the army of men and women stood Chef Gaston beaming in good heart.

After a while, when the evening had worn on, the pace slackened, I was spotted. “Whoa, who do we have here?” he said in his baritone. Taken by surprise I stammered, “G… goo..good evening Monsieur!”

“What are you doing in my kitchen? You want some food? Oui?”

It was just the thing I wanted, but couldn’t afford. “No, no! I am looking for a job,” I blurted instead. I felt so foolish, I wished I could have just vanished.

“Ahhh… OK! Can you peel potatoes?” I nodded! “And chop onions?” I nodded again!

“OK! You are hired! You eat your dinner here. You can start right away…. but first have something to eat.” My boss had won me over, just like the heavenly Salad Nicoise!

To see him fallen on the floor, disoriented, and  asking for food that too fast food was shocking.

Something smelled fishy!

In the meantime someone gave Gaston spoonfuls of delicious creme brulee. As the vanilla flavoured creamy custard swirled down his throat, it revived his taste buds and his senses. For a moment the delirious man wondered where he was.

“Where am I?” he muttered so softly that not even a flea on a dog’s back could have heard it. His blue eyes now lay pale and limpid without any spark or recognition. Still quite delirious he begged for some Pizza… specially from the Pizzeria around the street, ‘La Pizza de Seine’.

Monsieur Andre looked horrified.

I didn’t wait for any orders but ran to get some pizza for the- best- boss- in- the- world. As I was rushing out, I mentally noted all the hustle-bustle going on as usual in preparation for the evening clients. The tables being set, fresh flowers being arranged, last minute sprucing up going on.

The cosy tables arranged outside on the sidewalk looked inviting. That’s when I spotted a man in a blue beanie lurking in the bushes. He seemed to be peeping into our restaurant. Whatever for? I wondered.

But there was no time to waste.

Breathless I reached the counter, and asked for their most popular pizza, thin crust pepperoni with double cheese. For good measure I asked them to throw in some hot sauce.

The popularity of the little pizzeria was visible. A long snaking queue, aromas tantalising the olfactory and gustatory senses like the Moulin Rouge would its spectators!

A blue beanie came into my line of sight.

It seemed like an odd coincidence.

The man hurried to the back and disappeared in the manager’s office.

My order was ready and I was off on the trot, hugging my precious package.

An ambulance outside indicated that medicos were attending to Gaston. Only Monsieur  Andre and the medicos were fussing over the fallen hero. He was being coaxed to have some water, which he was refusing like a petulant child.

I brought out the pizza and the rush of aroma assaulted the senses of all there. As I placed wedges of the molten cheese encrusted, crisp crust pizza on a plate, Gaston’s eyes sparkled like precious turquoise from Istanbul. He scarcely hid his watering mouth as his teeth dug into a piece and he devoured it in record time. I was relieved. He seemed to be out of danger. It would have been  funny if not for the fact that Gaston simply abhorred fast food. He loved French cuisine, creating dishes from scratch. The reason he was famous and what made the restaurant famous too.

Monsieur Andre assigned me  to Gaston, till he was ready to go home, which was about another hour. By now Gaston had revived quite a bit. There was colour in his cheeks, sparkle in his blue eyes and his skin had lost the grey pallor. Toying with the idea to call a cab or just take the subway home, we decided on the latter.

After half an hour’s ride we were lumbering along a seedy neighbourhood. Gaston started singing now… his behaviour was amusing at first, but slowly it started to get on my nerves! He had a beautiful voice and insisted on singing tenor … but, completely off note. Simply put he was murdering music.

As we turned into his street, I  stopped mid step! There near the entrance lurked Mr blue beanie! My gut instincts were to stop and ask him what he was up to? But there was no evidence he meant us any harm. With my instincts at full alert now, we walked slowly past.

Once at home, I helped him to get comfortable, tucked him in bed, and left. My head was buzzing. What was Mr. blue beanie doing in all the places? Why was he hiding?

 I was about to exit the apartment when I saw him right in front. There was something different about him. A swarthy skin, hooded eyes, a hooked nose and a scar that ran from his left eye down to his chin - quite scary. I walked past as if nothing was amiss.

On second thoughts I turned and ran to Gaston’s apartment. A gentle turning of the handle let me walk in, silently. I hid behind the closet… As I overheard a man’s voice, “Is he awake?”

“Yes all is well.” squeaked a strange voice.

“Our work is done, Master! Allow us to return!”

“Not so fast… Abracadabra, into my bottle I shall hold you, in my power!”

Stunned, I tried to peep at the strangers…

There stood the scarred stranger with a tiny elf exuding blue light. As I watched, it was scooped into a bottle and capped!

“Who are you? What are you doing?” I screamed.

“Oh! you are back? Playing Sherlock Holmes are we?” he whispered menacingly.

“Why are you harming Gaston? I know you have done something. I am going to the police!”

“If I could cast a spell on your friend and get him out of work… I can do the same to you too! However, since you patronized my pizzeria, I owe you an explanation. I have cast a magic spell, so Gaston is only going to talk about  La Pizza de Seine! He will sing about it, eat from it and promote it till ‘Soups and Souffles’ go out of business! Serves that Andre right for being snooty!”

Before I could shout, move or budge, I find myself trapped in this bottle! If you find this bottle anywhere, do save me!