It's really hard to imagine engineering life without a proper dose of tea every now and then. The first rule of tea lovers cease to change, being no matter how unimportant a day might seem to be, it must begin with a cup of tea. I reached the nearest chai wallah that Sunday and on a disappointing note, I found it in a shut down condition. But my tea-deprived body made me walk a bit further on that same lane to a small rickety shop that had small sachets of pan masala hanging, a shelf containing cigarette packets and a kerosene fueled stove with a copper container placed on it containing boiling tea. The gentleman attending the rickety stall was much more older than my father. No matter what his actual age was, the conditions in which he was made to live conspired together to make him look older than seventy. I asked for a Gold Flake. He took a cigarette out of the packet and gave it to me. I noticed his fingers shaking while handing over the cigarette. I took a match stick and lighted the cigarette, exhaled the first puff and asked for a cup of tea.
I asked him if I could assist him and pour the tea in a glass as an act of self-service. The looks on his face turned from that of surprise to anger. "No no! It is my shop, I don't need you help" he shouted at me. I wished to apologize but I prevented it just to not fuel any further conversation which appeared to be heated up at that moment. He handed me the glass of tea placed in a plate. I took the glass, the lighted up cigarette and and sat on an iron bench next to the stall. While smoking, I noticed his trembling hands, those hands that didn't really have even the slightest portion of flesh present in them, with the skin tracing the shape of his veins and bones. I looked at his torn white vest, the red towel that he placed on his shoulder and the old blue lungi that he was wearing. Puffs after puffs and sips after sips I wondered what could have happened in his life. It might have been, like in very common cases that his children grew up and parted off, leaving the old man on his own. Or it might be that he never had any children, and being trapped in the vicious cycle of poverty, he had to work at this age too just to earn a living. I wondered where he lives, if he could afford two square meals a day, how he managed living in the winters and other such stuffs. I had a thousand questions in my mind but the leave-me-on-my-own attitude on his face discouraged me to ask him anything. I finally completed the cigarette, the tea and walked away. I somehow realized that even I am just like the others, with a lot of questions in my mind but actually with a very little concern for the things that they face. I am an imperfect creature, with a flawed inner world and just like the other human beings, I look for flaws in the external world.
(Photo credit: 40to40.com | http://www.4to40.com/photo_gallery/picture.asp?pid=102&photo=Tea_stall_on_footpath.jpg&keywords=Desi_Chai )
I asked him if I could assist him and pour the tea in a glass as an act of self-service. The looks on his face turned from that of surprise to anger. "No no! It is my shop, I don't need you help" he shouted at me. I wished to apologize but I prevented it just to not fuel any further conversation which appeared to be heated up at that moment. He handed me the glass of tea placed in a plate. I took the glass, the lighted up cigarette and and sat on an iron bench next to the stall. While smoking, I noticed his trembling hands, those hands that didn't really have even the slightest portion of flesh present in them, with the skin tracing the shape of his veins and bones. I looked at his torn white vest, the red towel that he placed on his shoulder and the old blue lungi that he was wearing. Puffs after puffs and sips after sips I wondered what could have happened in his life. It might have been, like in very common cases that his children grew up and parted off, leaving the old man on his own. Or it might be that he never had any children, and being trapped in the vicious cycle of poverty, he had to work at this age too just to earn a living. I wondered where he lives, if he could afford two square meals a day, how he managed living in the winters and other such stuffs. I had a thousand questions in my mind but the leave-me-on-my-own attitude on his face discouraged me to ask him anything. I finally completed the cigarette, the tea and walked away. I somehow realized that even I am just like the others, with a lot of questions in my mind but actually with a very little concern for the things that they face. I am an imperfect creature, with a flawed inner world and just like the other human beings, I look for flaws in the external world.
No comments:
Post a Comment