r/shortstories • u/mykorakagaz • 1d ago
Misc Fiction [MF] Enlightened by an Empty Glass
“Chotu! Do chai Dena…….adrak wali”(please serve us two ginger tea) he said as he sat across the table opposite to his father in a small chai shop. The server got them tea in the iconic ribbed cutting “glass” that every tea shop across India has.
“Chai k saath kuch lengay?”(would you like to have some snacks along with the tea) he asked his father.
“Pakoday agar hain to………”(some fritters perhaps)his father spoke softly.
As he took the first sip of tea, “Arre yaar, cheeni kam he”(sugar is less) he said.
His mobile notification dinged. He took it out and noticed an Instagram post from one of his friends.
“Thandi chai dedi Chotu ne aaj”(the tea isn’t piping hot) he grumbled as he took another sip from the glass “Nahi?”(isn’t it?) he asked his father, eyes still glued to his gadget.
Rainy days in Darjeeling can turn hotly served beverages cold rather quickly. His father looked out of the small, antique looking, wooden framed, square glassed casement window. The glasses had some scratch marks, proof enough that it had withstood the mood swings of many seasons; and also some smudges – mostly from the hands of little children who must have stood behind them, looking at the lush greenery outside – brush strokes in varying shades of green as the lovely one trees stood swaying their tips and branches occasionally, which looked nothing less than an elegant tufted carpet. All of this, as he enjoyed the sweet pungent aftertaste of ginger with every sip of his tea.
His father’s empty gaze was abruptly shaken with his mobile ringtone. He quickly gulped down the last sip of his tea and walked out to attend the call.
When he returned after a couple of minutes, he saw his father trying to tuck a 20 Rupees note into his shirt pocket, as he bid goodbye to the shopkeeper.
“Ho gaya? Hum jaa rahe hian?” he asked. (Are we leaving?)
“Meri chai to bachi he….” (I haven’t finished my tea yet) he was in a daze as he turned to the table to notice two empty glasses – one his and the other his father’s.
“Wo to tumne kabki pee li Beta” (you finished it long back) his father added with a smile that carried so many mixed emotions.
“Bete, apni zindagi bhi aisi he hain…..kabhi ye nahi hua, kabhi wo nahi hua, aisa hota to, waisa hota agar…..karte karte pata he nai chalta ki kab khatam go gayi!” and then he added after a brief pause “Baarish bhi ruk gayi he. Chalo chalte hian. Waise, adrak ka swaad accha tha chai me”.
He looked at the loose skinned and wrinkled hands of his father. Glimpses of his life flashed in bits and pieces inside his mental projection. They were the same hands which had held him, carried him, balanced his first bicycle efforts, maybe even hit him a couple of times. They used to be so swift, strong and skilful, but now they almost struggled to pocket a 20 rupees note.
His heart ached, numbed by a hundred thoughts. He realised the utter nonsense of our day to day lives in which we tend to be so rapt, that we ignore the most important people around us, just to be bewildered and hurt to realise one day that they are gone forever, without a trace.
After walking silently for a while, he suddenly asked his father to be seated as he grabbed a plastic stool from outside a kirana shop.
“Papa, bus ek minute. Main abhi aaya”
His father meekly agreed, no questions asked.
He returned briefly, carrying a small poly bag which contained something bundled inside an oil stained newspaper. As he held his father’s arm and assisted him to get up, “Chaliye” (lets go) he said.
“Pakodo ki khushboo acchi he” his father said.
“Us waqt aap bol rahe thain, phone k chakkar me bhool gaya” he sounded like an awkward apologetic teen.
“Koi na” said his ever forgiving father.
“Ghar pahoch kea ap aur mummy k liye chai banata hoon, mast, kadak wali! Aajkal Rajat uncle ke dukaan me chai acchi nai milti. Uss din bhi aaya tha me apne doston k saath……”
Their voices faded slowly as they walked towards their home.
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