Our Conversations..

How I wish,

you remained awake,

four and a half minutes more,

every single night;

had those silly chats,

continued for,

a few more moments,

I could have ended up,

knowing you more.

How I check,

your 'last seen at',

every single time,

I get free,

just to make,

another small conversation;

those little conversations,

mean more to me,

than you would ever know.

How I stare aimlessly,

at your display picture,

waiting for the phone,

to beep and vibrate;

only if you knew,

how closely I look at,

those small details,

a certified stalker,
you tend to make me.

How I tend to think,

harder and harder,

when it takes,

one second,

and forty five more microseconds,

for your status to change from,

online to typing;

I wonder who you're busy chatting with,

yes one little silly bastard I am.

How I wish,

those emojis,

could have conveyed,

a little more emotions,

I could have known,

what you think,

when I text you, 

thirty three times,

a small single day.

How I wish,

it was your voice,

it was your laughter,

instead of the simple lol,

and uncountable hahaha,

I could have actually been,

a little more proud,

of the humor,

that I possess.

My thoughts,

as mindless as,

my talks,

tend to resonate,

at one corner,

of my head,

I think,

I smile,

I What's App you,

and smile a little more.

P.S: I begun writing this initially as What's App texts to someone, last night. As promised, I ended up making a poem out of it.  

Depth Of The Ocean

My joblessness reaches new heights every fucking single day. During one of such jobless stretch, I begun pondering what my life could have been if there wasn't any TV involved. I remember those DD shows on that black and white TV when I was a child, those nostalgic cricket matches, lame movies like 'Kaho Na Pyaar Hain' and awesome television shows like Sa Re Ga Ma Pa and Close Up Antakshari. Eventually, music grabbed a lot of attention. I remember listening to those morning shows on MTV while getting ready and those evenings spent with Nikhil Chinappa hosting an exciting show when he would call users and play songs of their choice. I grew up watching Euphoria and my charismatic God Sri Sri Palash Sen sing Maaeri and Rimi Sen, gorgeous as ever in that music video. I remember Bombay Vikings' "Wo Chali Wo chali" or Silk Route's 'dooba dooba rehta hoon main". I remember every single song they played. I remember them better than the name of my schoolmates or what was taught in the school in 6th or 7th standard. 

One of such songs which remained in my head was "arey ruk jaa re bandeh" from Black Friday. That almost-an-adolescent guy could never get over with those meaningful lines "Kise kaafir kahega, kise kayar kahega, teri kab tak chalegi ho". I remembered it of course for the bullying nature of my classmates at that time (or in better words, throughout my school life). Later both the filmmaker and the music composers became my favorites, capturing my vision of pan-Indian perfection. Two years later, Vatsal, a friend of mine, came up with this song in one of our guitar class's session. And I could sing those lines again on the top of the voice. Vatsal brought Indian Ocean to my attention telling that the guitarist looks real down-to-earth but has his own style of playing, he was of course, referring to none other than Sushmit Sen. In the next class, I bought a Rs. 10 CD-ROM and gave it to him and a week later, I had a couple of Indian Ocean's songs. One was "Bandeh" and the other one was "Kandisa".

I kept listening to them all day long in the music player with the guitar in my hand, trying to figure out the progression of those songs, those intricately done guitar leads and those perfectly complementing bass and percussion. I listened to those songs, every single day, perhaps more than thousand times till now and I memorized those songs. The music was different. It had something unique. It didn't merely go for heavy drums. It had folk, it had rock, it had those neatly done guitar leads, it had a soul in it, the Indian soul. In the due course of time, artists like Shafaqt Amanat Ali (and his band Fuzon) Jal, Raeth and uncountable others became my favorites and the frequency of listening to those two songs decreased day by day and then that love for Indian Ocean's music died a slow death. (I don't even remember where that CD is currently, lying along with hundreds of other CDs.  

Lost, Found and Lost Again:

Amir Khan's hard work never goes unnoticed. It's his way of working and doing thing uniquely that always catches my attention. I had become his fan after gigs like Rang De Basanti and Taare Zameen Par and then his production making "Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na". This time the movie of his production house had the village life involved. Yes, the movie was "Peepli Live". I never really ended up watching the movie, but the movie made me rediscover my lost love, Indian Ocean. The song was "Des mera" and the first time I listened to it, I instantly got nostalgic about the song arrangement, the way the rhythm was done, the way folk was involved, apart from those beautiful lines "Des mera rangrez hain baabu, ghaat ghaat yaha dikhta jaadoo". I knew where it was coming from. I instantly called Vatsal to tell him about this song and a couple of hours later, we were revisiting Indian Ocean together, we were trying to play the leads of Bandeh again, we were screaming our lungs out while singing Kandisa. Once Peepli Live fever was over, we forgot the song again.

Lost, Found, Lost Again and Found Again:

Once again, TV was the catalyst in our reunion. This time, it was MTV, it was MTV Unplugged. This was post-Asheem-Chakravarty-death-era. There was this one young guy with the percussion section along with Amit Kilam and another guy in kurta singing along with Rahul. I listened to them, I watched the repeat again and then I youtubed those songs. I remember every bit of that show. The way Rahul was dressed up, the way Sushmit played it, the unorthodox music, everything! One fine morning, I watched the repeat telecast and then hurried up to catch a train. Bored, I Googled about Indian Ocean, about what it is, about Asheem, Sushmit, Rahul, Amit. I visited their website and came to know about their real depths. About their professionalism, about their passion for music, about Susmit meeting Asheem for the first time in a concert, about their jam sessions, about Sushmit's dad insisting the name Indian Ocean, about their first recording, about Rahul Ram joining the band after his return to India, about their rise to success and their journey so far and of course about Asheem's unfortunate demise. Their songs became a part and parcel of my daily life. I am yet to watch "Leaving Home", their biopic. 

About the band:

The history of the band is quite appealing (Considering the length of the article, I considered not giving a lot of insight. It can be read here in a detailed manner). The line-up of the band that witnessed their rise to fame consisted Rahul Ram on bass guitar and vocals, Asheem Chakravathy on percussion and vocals, Amit Kilam on drums and other instruments, and Sushmit Sen on guitar. Asheem died on Dec. 2009 due to a cardiac arrest. His connoisseurship of rhythm shall always be missed. His replacements have been Tuheen Sen on percussion and Himanshu Joshi on vocals and other instruments (I apparently saw him supporting with the percussion part during their MTV unplugged performance).

With and Without Susmit:

Sushmit has been a self taught musician. Quoting the band's original website, he "has virtually invented a new style of playing the guitar – an uncannily Indian sound where purity of scale reigns, strong melodic lines woven around the drone of open strings." His simplistic looks and the depths of his playing moved him to the position of God in my eyes. He plays a special series of guitar named after him: The SS Series. On June 12,2013, I came across this status update on their official Facebook page

Very Important Update: Susmit Sen is leaving Indian Ocean after 23 years of a long and fruitful association. Susmit and Asheem co-founded the band way back in 1990. Susmit will focus more on his solo career with his new band Susmit Sen Chronicles. Nikhil Rao is our new guitar player! We wish Susmit all the best in his bold new step, and we are going to continue to have lots of fun making new music and playing all over the world!

This was indeed shocking,. However, my best wishes shall stay with both Susmit  Sen Chronicles and Indian Ocean.

The Journey ahead:

Indian Ocean remains a firm believer of the philosophy that the show must go on. They are actively busy touring with their new line-up. However, what I truly doubt is whether it would remain the same without the backbones of the band. I don't even know if my soul would dance madly to their tunes revolving highly around Susmit and Asheem's playing. However, the way Susmit, Asheem, Rahul and Amit have traveled this successful journey, their stories shall be remembered for ages to come. :) 

Happy Birthday Dada

I am not the best person to write an article about a cricketer. Although cricket is our 'national religion' and we are supposed to be theists in this particular case, I lack the knowledge necessary to  write a biographical article about a cricketer. However, I have always adored this particular cricketer and today on 8th July (his birthday) I can't have a better way of wishing him than writing about him, although the faint probability that he would ever come across this particular article remains less than the probability that I would attend all the lectures without dozing off in the afternoon slots. This one's for you, my hero. 

"Hurry up! Complete your dinner" Baba exclaimed, clearly excited as he didn't wanted to miss this one. As soon I completed eating and washed my hands, he took me and hurried to the house of some XYZ Patel who, at that time was privileged enough to have a color TV at home. This dates back to my childhood, when I was probably 3 or 4 years old. This match, was one between Pakistan and India I guess, which clearly justifies Baba's excitement. Day-Night ODIs were a rage those days . I don't know where the match was played, neither do I know who won it but I clearly remember a tiny piece of conversation between Baba and Patel Uncle. "Dekho aaj Tendulkar aur Dada khel rahe hai. India chase kar legi! " Patel uncle exclaimed. In reaction to that, I, sitting next to Baba asked "Baba, Dada is in Calcutta right? How is he playing in the TV?". For me, Dada was my cousin brother living in Kolkata. I didn't have any idea about the other Dada. Both the gentlemen bursted out in laughter. Yes, childish inquisitiveness gets embarrassing at times. I never got the answer from Baba that day, however, I couldn't forget that little piece of conversation between the two of us. 

The coming years saw some significant developments. Color TV had finally become a necessity for the middle class. Baba bought a 21-inch Sony TV, finally replacing the old black and white TV. This was probably when I was 5. Life was good with color TV now. The most significant change for me was that Baba stopped telling me to hurry up with dinner on the days of Day-Night matches. I could eat on the dining table and could the the men in blue in action. Two faces became familiar to me who used to walk down in the beginning of the blue team's batting innings. One had a taller stature than the other, with a ferocious look in his eyes. He was called the 'Bengal Tiger'. I loved those matches in which both of these guys played well and it was natural for me to get upset if they didn't. ICC knockOut championship, 2000 was a memorable series which I remember. Although I was just 7, I clearly felt dejected with the blue team losing the finals to the black team, although that guy with a taller stature than the other, whom Baba referred to as Dada played well.

In the successive years, my sense of understanding improved. So did my bonding with TV, cricket and men in blue. I now knew that guy's name. Sourav Chandidas Ganguly, THE captain of Indian cricket team. By now, S.C. Ganguly had become my first sporting hero. Under his captaincy, team India witnessed a new

dawn. He mentored numerous players to get the best out of them. Who can forget those memorable moments of Natwest Series 2002 when Dada out of excitement removed his shirt to celebrate the victory of the men in blue in the tournament. Success followed the captain in the coming year with India reaching the finals of 2003 ICC World Cup. Dada won a million hearts due to his frank behavior, ferocious attitude and vision.

However, just like a lot other sporting heroes, Dada too was surrounded in controversies numerous times. The incidents like his 'chickening out' of Nagpur test, losing a match to Bangladesh, the famous controversy with Greg Chapel and later with Kolkata Knight Riders' coach John Buchanan, his exit from the Indian cricket team never kept him away from media. Dada continues to remain the favorite child of controversy.

His exit from the Indian side was heart breaking for me. I always adored him as a hero and no one can really see their hero failing in life. However, the Bengal tiger wasn't done with it. I remember one cold drink's ad of his, when he was sidelined  from the team in which he uttered those unforgettable words "Bhoole toh nahi?'' He smiled in the ad but the pain was visible, a pain that Dada and his devotees shared mutually. It was difficult to see the Fab 5 incomplete. However, just like a true sporting hero, he made a comeback in 2007. And the comeback wasn't a lukewarm one. It was red hot, and an appropriate reply with his bat to silence all  his critics. He was fitter than ever and the average after his comeback remained better than his career average.

This fantastic journey of an awesome cricketer finally came to an end on 6th November, 2008. He played his last test against Australia. Moist eyes of mine bid adieu to someone who was more than a cricketer for me. He was my idol, a hero who never bowed against bullies, had a backbone strong enough to stand against the odds. His attitude towards life made him stand apart as the best captain of the Indian cricket team. Although I won't really like to compare, this photo tells the story:

5 Random Songs From Bollywood That Lift Your Spirit

1. O Saiyaan  (Agneepath)

Music: Ajay-Atul
Lyrics: Amitabh Bhattacharya
Singer: Roop Kumar Rathod

This song witnesses a soulful combination of lyrics and music. Ajay-Atul have worked hard with the music to produce something that forces you to close your eyes and experience the beauty every time you listen to this song. Amitabh Bhattacharya brilliantly conveys the feelings of a girl who finally gets the person whom she had fallen for. When it comes to singing, Roop Kumar Rathod's golden voice brings life to the music. Although this song conveys feminine feelings, the listeners, irrespective of their sex, can relate to the feelings involved.   

2.  Tere Bin (Delhi Heights) 

Singer and songwriter: Rabbi Shergill


My memories with Rabbi date back to the time when I first heard 'Bulla' and fell in love with it's catchy music. And my love for his songs have never experienced any change. This song is as romantic as it gets. The song has been written in Punjabi but the lyrics can be understood quite easily, which expresses the feelings of a person missing his beloved. The song has been picturised on Jimmy Shergill who appears to be broken down after breaking up with his girlfriend (I have never seen the movie actually!). People who have recently broken up are vulnerable to tears after listening to this song.

3.  Iktara (Wake Up Sid)

Music: Amit Trivedi
Lyrics: Amitabh Bhattacharya
Singers: Amitabh Bhattacharya, Kavita Seth

Iktara is the perfect song to start the day with. The music, by guest composer Amit Trivedi is a fusion of Sufi with a beautiful mixture of guitar strumming and drums. This song compels you to nod to the music and makes attempt to distinguish it from the others. Amitabh Bhattacharya did a  fantastic work with the lyrics and with singing the refrain 'goonja sa hai koi iktara'. Kavita Seth with her bold and clear voice takes the song to a different level adding the beauty of Sufism. I love the reprise version of it as well, sung by Tochi Raina.

4. Tumse Yuh Milenge (Ankahee)

Music: Pritam
Lyrics: Subrat Sinha
Singer: Kunal Ganjawala

This song sets up the mood of the movie quite beautifully. The song has been picturised on the love triangle of Aftab, Esha and Amisha in the movie. The lyrics again is done beautifully and makes the song romantic. Pritam has done excellent job in composing this ballad, adding all the romance to the song he could. However the real credit goes to Kunal Ganjawala's singing. His loud and clear voice perfectly matches the song requirement and he sing's it quite effortlessly. 

5. Alvida (Life In A... Metro) 

Music: Pritam
Lyrics: Syed Quadri
Singer: Kay Kay

Alvida is hard rock song composed by Pritam. The singer bids adieu to his beloved. This song is all about moving on, especially the case when one moves on and the other still remains attached. Kay Kay has sung the song well, especially doing well with the high notes and the portions which required a clear throw. The sounds of distortion guitar and drums elevates the intensity of this song and a listener can actually feel the pain involved. The reprise version, sung by James gets ever more intense. 

A resident of Surat would consider himself/herself lucky if they get a shared rickshaw (known as shuttle here) without screaming the name of the destination to at least a dozen of rickshaw-wallahs on a busy Sunday morning. 'Central Mall?' I screamed to the second rickshaw that came to my sight. The rickshaw-wallah gestured me to hurry. 'Civil Hospital chaloge bhaiyaa?' I heard a sweet voice as I was about to enter the rickshaw and moments later, she was there, seated next to me.

The rickshaw-wallah took no time to switch the music player on and then moments later, we could hear a pathetic song from the 90's which involved the male singer express his pain of being cheated on. Ironically, I got confused whether it was I,or the singer, who deserved some sympathy. However, the rickshaw-wallah seemed to enjoy the song, occasionally singing some lines of the song in his cacaphonic voice. It's fun to see how the facial expressions change when one sings, which when complemented with occasional nodding made the rickshaw-wallah look like a pro. 

However I lost interest in him quite soon and decided to divert my attention to Whatsapp. Whatsapp always remains a good option to divert your attention from unwanted things like lectures and in this case, the song. I got my phone out from my jeans pocket after a lot of struggle, yes your efforts may be misinterpreted as a possible attempt to make use of the situation to do something indecent, by the girl sitting next to you. I finally got the phone out and looked at the screensaver. '38 messages from 4 conversations' it read. 36 of them were from my college group which was busy discussing the plans for the day. With nothing else to do, I joined the conversation. 

'Jasmine' my sense of smell informed me, as I realized that something like hair touched my face. As a reflex, I looked up to see her face in the rear view mirror. Very soon, I got clear about two things. One, she was older and more mature than me and second, if one could count, the number of proposals she would have got till date would obviously exceed my 10th and 12th board's score combined. 'Wow!' I exclaimed in my mind and smiled. She was clad in a blue kurta apart from an aura of simplicity. I noticed her ear rings and red colored nails. Frankly speaking, she was a perfect girl next door. Moments later, I noticed the rickshaw-wallah looking at me from the other mirror and smiling. 'What?' I gestured through facing expressions. Smilingly, he shook his head and focused back on driving the rickshaw, I reverted back to Whatsapping.

Exactly forty one seconds and thirty two micro seconds later, the rickshaw reached the civil hospital. She got off the rickshaw and handed over a twenty rupee note to the rickshaw-wallah. He returned eight rupees to her which unintentionally initiated this heated conversation:

She: 'Bhaiya, the fare from Station to Civil Hospital is Rs. 10, how on Earth can you charge me Rs. 12?'

He (in denial): Ma'am this is the standard rate, you must be new here.

She: I am a regular commuter, I know how much the fare is. Give me the pending money. 

He (irritated): Ma'am the fare to Udhna Darwaza is Rs. 10 and to Civil Hospital is 12, fares increased last week.

She: How many times a month do you increase the fare? I am in a hurry, give my money back.

He (shaking head): No ma'am I can't. Sorry.

She: Give my money back or drop me again to station, free of cost, I would rather come again in a rickshaw that charges Rs. 10.

The conversation went on for some four odd minutes. She kept on arguing and he kept denying. In the due course of conversation, her face color changed to nearly match her nail paint. I was following this conversation with a faint smile on my face. She seemed irritated from me noticing her and asked me 'What?' with a sullen face. I made a sincere face and asked the rickshaw-wallah to hand another two rupees to her, telling him I was in a hurry. He complied and handed back the remaining change. She smiled and thanked me. Soon he started the rickshaw again. 'You shouldn't support these people, what will we eat? Early morning such passengers irritate us' he seemed pissed off. I gave him a toothy smile in reply and immediately, my focus shifted back to the rear window as I saw her heading towards the hospital and moments later she was out of my sight.

During the rest of the journey, I kept thinking about our nature in general. We don't mind being charged more when we travel by flight but a giving away a couple of rupees more to the rickshaw-wallah matters a lot. We don't mind spending at McDonald's but we do mind giving a couple of rupees more to the pani puri-wallah. Spendthrift at times and miser all other times, that is how we are, that is what separates Indians from the rest of the world. And so she was she, a simple, decent, beautiful girl who seemed mature but didn't mind looking silly to get her two rupees back.   

   

On That Rainy Evening...

The weather on that evening seemed fine. The sky was clear and some last rays of the sun at dusk complemented the clear sky to make a beautiful Sunday evening. "Beautiful!" I exclaimed while I rushed on to the streets to reach Jay's place. Taking some time off to cherish the nature is always given much lesser an impetus than watching the tennis open final with your best friend, especially when you are late.

The evening turned out to be even more beautiful with beer cans in our hands and Rafa managing a win in the final. That evening was the perfect one to take some pressure off from my head especially when it was preoccupied with exam fever. Our hungry tummies forced us to spend some more bucks on pizza as we ordered one and as expected the pizza reached before 30 mins. "cheers!" We screamed to celebrate our God's victory while we opened the second beer can. Beer, pizza, a beautiful evening, what else does one want from life, but as usual, life always has a little bit more to offer.

While having the pizza, I heard the roaring of clouds. I predicted that it would turn out to be a mild shower. However, the rains continued for the next six hours and had a definite impact on the place where my hostel is situated, being one of the most low lying areas in the city. An hour later, I left Jay's place hoping the rain would stop soon and  took a rickshaw to station. On the way, the rain didn't stop and I soon realized that my prediction  had failed miserably. I now anticipated some water clogging in the hostel area as well as a traffic jam. The rickshaw wallah dropped me at the station and then I had a long struggle to find another one to my hostel. 

Finally, a generous rickshaw wallah agreed to drop me at the nearest chowk to our hostel. Sitting in the rickshaw, I mentally prepared myself for getting wet in the rain. On one hand, I could sense that ecstasy inside me to get wet in the rain while I didn't want to fall sick due to the approaching exams. I finally reached the chowk, paid the fare and started walking in the rain.

"Hey!" A voice called me from behind. I looked behind to find a tall guy in formal wear, holding an umbrella. He was like a messiah who had arrived to rescue me from this atrocious weather. "Come along!" he said and gestured me to hurry up. I hurried up and we started waking ahead. "Unpredictable this weather gets!" I exclaimed completely out of exasperation. "Yeah! But it gets beautiful when you have an umbrella along with you." he smiled. The first thing I was forced to notice about him was his composure. He seemed completely unaffected of a weather change. He looked so familiar, I had a strong hunch that I had met him before.  "Isn't it?" He raised an eyebrow waiting for me to speak up. 

"Look at the water man! My shoes are getting wet" I said as I necessarily wanted to rant about the rains. He laughed in reply. "Engineering student you seem to be" he said. "Yes! You predicted that out of my frustration?" I said and smiled. "Yes! Obviously" he said. We had a small chat on the way, he had to go the lane adjacent to my hostel. I always found that lane scary, completely dark, devoid of any street light. He had completed his Diploma in Civil engg. and was working at a leading cement manufacturing company.

While we were about to reach the hostel, he asked me something that shocked me. "How is Ankit? Is he still on with the one he was, six months ago?" he laughed and looked away. That laughter was predictable! It was him, Gaurav, my room partner who died in an accident some months ago. He was about to complete his Diploma and had also got a job offer from the same company. "Time to go brother, was missing you like hell! Take care" he said, dropping the umbrella on the ground and ran faster than even the best of athletes. He soon disappeared in the dark lane. I gathered some courage to look at the umbrella. It had a tag on it which read "Pinaki Acharya, 2011" . It was the first umbrella that I bought in my college life and soon lost it!. I had tears in my eyes while I collected the umbrella and looked at the dark lane. His words continued to echo in my ears.  

Describing You

I look for words,
to describe you,
your beauty,
your aura,
and as expected,
I always fall short of it.

Perhaps it's difficult,
to put it into words,
how I feel,
watching a tiny dew drop,
still on a green leaf,
it soothes me,
perhaps you bring around the same feeling,
when I see your simplicity.

Perhaps it's difficult,
to put it into words,
how I feel,
to see the early morning sun rays,
breaking the monotony of dark,
it instills a new hope,
perhaps you bring around the same feeling,
when I see your determination.

Perhaps it's difficult,
to put it into words,
how I feel,
listening to 'leja leja',
and the voice of Shreya Ghoshal,
it makes me dance within,
perhaps you bring around the same feeling,
when I see you smiling.

Perhaps it's difficult,
to put it into words,
how I feel,
dancing in the monsoon shower,
on a wet dull day,
perhaps you bring around the same feeling,
when I remember you.

Your beauty,
it increases day by day,
the charm of your persona,
the aura you carry,
makes you incredible,
makes you lovable.

(P.S:- even my love's quite difficult to put into words.
it's silly,
it's deep,
it's beyond understanding,
it's stupid,
it's unacceptable,
yet each and every bit of it is true,
love you )

Revelation

They hide perfectly,

when I meet you,

only if you could look,

within my sparkling eyes,

you would have discovered,

how you light my world up.

They hide perfectly,

when I call you,

only if you could sense,

the longing in my voice,

you would have discovered,

how I miss seeing you every single moment.

They hide perfectly,

when you let me flirt,

only if you could read,

the smile I wear,

you would have discovered,

how I dance within.

The hide perfectly,

when I see you with someone else,

only if you had any idea,

what my heart goes through at that moment,

you would have discovered,

how possessive I tend to become.

They hide perfectly,

in every word I pen down,

in that secret diary,

only if I allowed you to read it,

you would have surely known,

how madly I love you.

-Pinaki and all feelings unexpressed.

Amid failure and despair

Here I am,
kneeling down,
head low,
dismayed,
letting a mix of tears and sweat,
to mix with the dust underneath.

I don't want to burn my liver anymore,
nor do I want to burn my lungs,
perhaps I have stopped running away,
from that very fact,
that I am a failure.

Pain remains a constant companion,
along with darkness of the night,
who illogically tell me to give up,
disguised foes convince me almost.

But then I hear a voice,
voice of my mummy,
telling the child inside me,
stories of heroes who never lost,
her voice has a hope,
which I miss lately.

Her voice reminds me of dreams,
her dreams,
my dreams,
and I smile though pain,
recollecting those happy moments,
No maa, your child hasn't lost yet.

I gather strength,
my knees feel stronger,
as I try getting up once again,
to face this unfair world.

Mirror

It is easier to get over a heart break than getting over the addiction of tea. No matter how hard I try, every afternoon at 3 pm, I find myself at the chaiwala's place with a cutting chai in my hand. That day was almost like any other day had I not found this interesting character, a child labor, bringing the tea cup to my table. Afternoon is a time when the place finds itself a little less busy. This child, probably eight years old, malnourished and with a coat of innocence on his face was totally carefree. For him, the world was a playground and he was yet to be exposed to the challenges he had to face later.

He sat at the bench, next to me and begun playing with a rubber band. I tear opened the Parle G packet and offered him one. He took the biscuit and stared at me for probably six seconds, thirty one micro seconds and  eleven nanoseconds before making me raise an eyebrow. He smiled in response and then focused back on biscuit, clamping the rubber band on his wrist. He took little bytes of the biscuit and till he finished the biscuit, I was already done with my evening dose. It was a sheer delight to watch him eat. The innocence he exhibited somehow took me back to my own childhood days which were necessarily carefree. My heart, which continues to be a five year old, got a companion in him. 

I stood up, paid the money and then took out a butt from the pack of goldflake in my pocket. I ask the chaiwala for a match stick and lighted up the cigarette. I turned back to locate the boy and check what he was up to, before leaving. I found him staring at me. However this stare was pretty different than the one he gave while serving me the tea. He disliked the very action of smoking. His firm stare somehow made me feel guilty and persuaded me to keep the nicotine roll away from my lips. I immediately looked away from his eyes, and almost in a reflex action, dropped the cigarette down and stamped on it. I walked away from the place without looking at his reaction, perhaps because I didn't have the courage to do so. Although I wasted valuable Rs. 5 from my wallet, I somehow smiled. It was a different feeling whatsoever, to face the mirror, which on the other side contained the carefree child, who radiated a strong beam of innocence.