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.
