The Tea Vendor

I rose early today. Or rather, I hadn't gone to sleep at all. I couldn't sleep. My mind was ill at ease. It has been for a while. My thoughts kept wandering into the dark corners I did not want it to go to. But it was relentless. Every time I closed my eyes and thought I could finally rest, I’d jump up again.

It was still dark when I finally decided to leave my eyes open for the rest of the day. I peeked at the window from my bed. The sky was starting to have a tinge of light blue, that beautiful blue when the sun rises. There is a reason why I love that colour, blue. All the different shades of it. The sky, the oceans. The sense of wonder that radiates from anything that is blue.

I waited for a bit more and eventually decided to rise and brush my teeth. My routine used to include me fumbling for a cigarette before my brush, but things changed. I could use one now, when I think about it. The only thought that keeps me away from that little white stick is what I had to go through to get rid of it. I could never go through that again.

The sky was decently lit by the time I was done with my morning ritual. I could go for a walk, the fresh air would be good for me, I thought. So I set out. A few feet from the porch I realized how it was too cold for me to walk outside wearing just a pair of shorts so I turned around and went back in. It was a good thing I turned around as it turned out that I’d forgotten my wallet as well. My resolve to abstain from smoking was getting weaker by the minute and subconsciously I knew I would end up smoking at least one today.

I don’t know how long I walked, but it was significantly brighter when I broke away from my thoughts and started to look around for a vendor to buy cigarettes from. In the distance, I thought I saw one and proceeded in that direction. As I got closer, I noticed that he was a tea vendor. With luck he probably had cigarettes as well.

Do you have a cigarette? I asked him.

No, child. I don’t sell those, he told me. I can give you tea however. It is good tea.

My face fell. I needed one now. I had to get my hands on one.

Drink tea, child. My tea is good tea.

I sniggered.

One glass. You can have it on me. Sit and relax while I pour it out for you.

On his insistence I sat on the forlorn bench that looked like it would fall to pieces the moment a feather touched it.

Before he handed me the tea, he handed me a cigarette. A very shabby looking, nearly broken cigarette.

It’s my last one. It was supposed to be. I am not allowed anymore.

In my excitement, I grabbed the nearly broken cigarette and the matchbox he held within his other palm and lit it. In the instant I breathed it in I regretted it. All the thoughts of the previous night came flooding back and I started gasping for air. I threw the cigarette to the ground as I tried to regain myself.

Oh dear, you wasted it. Now neither me nor you can have it, said the vendor handing me the glass of tea.

It was hot, the glass. I had to set it down as soon as I took hold of it. It smelled really good though and I couldn't resist taking a sip. When I did, my tongue was slightly burned. Just a tad; I had taken a very small sip.

It is good, yes? He asked me.

Yes, I smiled and I looked at him. I really looked at him. I took in his vanishing grey hair, his wrinkles, the torn shirt he was wearing. He looked frail and weak; if you looked at his physique alone, it didn't look like he had much to smile about. And yet, there he was, grinning widely at me. As if he could not be happier if he saw anyone else. As if he saw an old friend. A kind smile, the smile that could set a million uneasy minds to rest.

Are you thinking about something, child? He asked.

No chetta.

What seems to be troubling you?

How do you know something is troubling me?

Why else would a person of your age get up so early in the morning to scavenge for cigarettes? And from the looks of it, you have not smoked in a long time. Something must be troubling you for you to be desperate for one.

It’s nothing, I said looking down. Do you have family? I asked him, watching him as he set up his stand.

Yes. A son. He is far away now. Working in a big city. My son has become a big man. A very important person.

When did you see him last?

It has been a while. He is a very important man. He hardly gets time for himself.

I felt a stab of pain at that. Whether his son was really busy or he didn't want to bother coming to see his father now that he was in a better position, I didn't know. So it was not my position to judge.

Your family, child? How are they?

They are back home.

When did you see them last?

It’s been a while. I need to do something before I see them again.

I sat on the flimsy bench for a while, lost in thoughts. The same thoughts that kept me awake all night. I kept sipping at the glass until I finally realized there was no more tea to sip and I looked around.

There were more people around me now. Some were trying to finish the tea quickly, in order to run, blowing at it to make it cool down faster. What was the point in drinking tea like that? You drink coffee when you are in a hurry, I felt. Tea is for when you need to relax, when you need to breathe slowly, taking in everything you are, everything you could be.

Could I have one more? I asked him and I got my tea.

He was right. His tea really was good tea. I don’t know if it was the cool morning that made it taste and feel better, but his tea was the ‘special chai’ as his handmade sign suggested.

Before I left, I paid for both glasses of tea. He refused to accept the money, but I forced it inside his pocket and quickly walked away as other customers kept queuing behind.

I slept slightly better that night. I still twisted and turned in my bed, desperate for some shut-eye. My mind was busy racing to make plans and back-ups for those plans and even more back-ups. I had at one point realized I was desperate enough to ask Mythili. But I knew that was pointless. I couldn’t ask her unless I had something to give her in return and by now I was tired of giving to her.

The next morning I went in search of the tea vendor. I liked him. I went the morning after and the morning after that as well. It became part of my routine. Soon I started going during the day as well. I asked him one day when he closes shop so I could go in the evenings also.

I know my tea is good, child but even Amrutham is poison if you have too much of it.

I laughed.

It is just a few glasses, chetta. I have no other indulgences except your tea. And the calm it gives me.

I missed home a lot. I was dying to go back. But I couldn’t. Not unless I proved something of myself. Not until I became someone important. I told the tea vendor this.

My son is an important man, he told me.

I know, chetta.

But it is more important for me that I am able to see him. To have more correspondence than the letter and the money order he sends once a month.

If he sends money, why do you keep doing this? I asked indicating the tea stand.

Because if I do nothing, I will go mad. And because I get to meet great people like you, he said winking at me.

If I go, you will miss me.

That is true, child. But your home misses you more than you know, much more than you realize.

For the tiniest fraction of a second, I saw his smile waver, his eyes going dull.

Go home, child. When you come back, I shall be here. What do you do for a living?

I write.

Oh. That is such a lonely road.

It’s not so bad. I create and meet so many wonderful characters. Sometimes, they form better company than real people. Sometimes, they shock and amaze me with what they say, my characters.

He laughed. Why will it shock you? You are saying those words.

It is difficult to explain, chetta. It comes without me realizing it.

Will you give me a place in your next story?

You’re already part of my stories.

He beamed at that.

A few days later, I decided that I would indeed go home. And so I packed my bags and had a glass of tea before I went on my way to board the bus. With what meagre earnings I had, I managed to buy something for my parents and my sister.

I was not sure for a long time if I were right in deciding to come back home. But when my mother cried at the sight of me, I realized I couldn't have made her wait longer to see me.

I stayed longer than I intended to. I was fed enough good food to last me until the next time I came back. I visited my old haunts and did other such things. For a while, I forgot about all those thoughts that kept me awake. I forgot even about the old tea vendor. On the last day as my mother brought me a glass of tea as I was packing, I was suddenly reminded of him.

I had to get him something, I decided. I went into town and bought a new mundu and shirt for him. I was sure would like it. He will look royal, I thought.

The morning after I reached back, I woke up excitedly. I grabbed the cover with the gifts I bought for the vendor and rushed out, forgetting even to brush my teeth. But the place was empty. I walked around the area, looked far. But I saw no signs of the vendor. This happened the next day, and the next day.

A week after I came, sometime in the evening, someone knocked on my door. This was odd, as except for the tea vendor I had no one to call friends in that place.

A man was waiting at the door. He looked frazzled, his hair in a mess and his clothes looked like they could use ironing.

My father requested that I see you, he said.

I had no idea who he was, but I was beginning to understand.

Who are you? I asked anyway.

My father sold tea to you.

We stood quietly, staring at each other for a while.

I  have taken him to where I live. He is getting sick and he needs better medical attention.

Is he okay?

He is doing better. But he is weak. I kept telling him to quit and come live peacefully with me, but he wouldn't listen. He got really weak some time back and lost consciousness. Thankfully the doctor who treated him was a childhood friend of mine, so he sent word. I have taken him to the best hospital in the city. He will receive much better care there.

I still just stared at him. It did not dawn on me that I should perhaps invite him in and offer him something to drink.

I shall take leave now, he said. My train leaves soon.

Wait, I said. I rushed back inside and got the cover I had been walking around with for the past one week.

Would you give this to you father? And tell him I am grateful to him. For his wisdom, and more importantly his kindness.

I will, the man said and left.

I knew that while my gifts would reach the tea vendor, my words wouldn’t. But those words were said, and somehow he would know. That old man with wispy grey hair and a kind smile. He would know.