I Don't Like Tea

Every morning papa makes tea for ma and amma. Ma loves it. Amma not so much. I think amma likes the tea but she doesn't like the fact that papa makes it. This time when I went home for vacation, papa used to wake me up too for morning tea. I wondered why because I don't like tea. We used to sit and chat about random stuff. On some good mornings, he would tease amma till she has a giggly fit. After this morning dose of tea and chit-chat, papa would rush to get ready for work. Ma would be off to the kitchen and amma would go out to get flowers for "pooja". And I would slowly tiptoe my way back to the room to get some more sleep.

"Shaam ki chai" is the time when all three of them sit together and discuss chores and errands. On most evenings, the discussion is interrupted when amma starts rushing towards the gate hearing the call of the vegetable vendor. I follow her too for the conversations that happen among the vegetable vendor, amma and neighborhood aunties are far too interesting to be missed. The vegetable vendor is a young man and he is very fond of amma. He calls her "aiyya". I remember when amma got ill, he used to bring her radish leaves every day. 

I don't like tea but I have it sometimes for it reminds me of home. It often brings back the melancholy, and I enjoy it. So the next time your mom calls you downstairs for tea, don't tell her you are busy. Go have tea. She misses your company and you miss it too.

PS: I don't like people who assume that I like coffee when I tell them I don't like tea. Please don't be one of them.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

This is about the days when abruptly anytime the ceiling fan used to stop working. The days when there were no "backups," no inverters. I used to run to my mother's room in the middle of the night and she would use my favorite handheld fan to help me sleep. That fan was handmade. Dadi made several for us. They were of beautiful bright colors, some had embroidery over them.

This is about the summers when everybody at home would eventually go upstairs and sleep on the cot, beneath the stars, except my father and me. My father used to complain about mosquitoes and I had weird complaints. It was difficult for me to sleep beneath the stars. Those millions of stars had the company of each other and they made me feel alone. Alone in a strange way. I remember how difficult it was for me to continuously look at them while trying to sleep. It felt as if there is a hollow tunnel and as much as I would look at it, I would keep going inside. I was intimidated by the vastness.

Little did I know that it's a privilege to have a sky above you that is filled with these tiny sparkling gems. Am I missing that feeling? The feeling of being intimidated by the vastness. I wonder if I miss that hollow tunnel too. Or is it just the fact, that a part of my childhood is lost, that is bothering me. I don't know. I don't think I will ever know. 

Is it strange if I say that I miss those dark nights that I had back in my hometown? We don't have such nights anymore. The nights that used to be lit only by the silvery moonlight and twinkling stars. There weren't many lights. I miss that sky. I miss the stars. I wonder if they are gone because they are miffed about how I used to feel about them back then. Can you ask them to come back? Can you tell them I am sorry and that I was not alone in their presence? They kept me company. They have been a part of my love for the moon and my fear of darkness. Can you please convince them to come back?

I grew up singing "Twinkle twinkle little star." How will it be if after a decade your daughter asks you, what are stars and how do they twinkle? Wouldn't it be heartbreaking to not be able to show your kid something so precious, so beautiful? What did we do? In an effort to bring everything to our feet, we lit the whole earth and let the stars drown in this arrogant bright artificial glare.

Don't you miss the sky of your childhood? The sky that was filled with stars!

Broken Pieces

Something just broke inside me.

But there was no sound. No shatter.

I don't know if it hurts.

I feel too numb.

Too distant. Too lost. 

This looks like a dark box,

filled with sharp broken pieces.

Pieces that pierce my feet.

I am banging all the walls,

to find a door. 

A door that can lead me out of this.

To a place that doesn't

smell like a chemistry lab. 

To a place where there is sunshine

to keep me warm.

I keep trying for some time.

But it seems like there is no door.

Tired, I fell on the rugged mat.

And went to sleep.

Hoping to wake up in another place.

In a place where I can breathe.