It is not very rare that I have a problem with someone or something, but you know what, sometimes it is not the problem that I have, sometimes it's just my pure genuine sense of hatred.
Very few people have deeds so great to hold a feeling so genuine. Of course, how can I not mention our honorable electricity department for accomplishing something so genuine (hatred of course but still genuine).
I would sing you tales of their tiresome deeds but of course, I don't have to do that troublesome task since every single man in this country holds a grudge against them for some or the other reason.
Oh God!! I forgot I had a column to write but how can somebody do something in this house, I yawped. Just because the lights are down and you have work pending does not mean you can take the entire house on your head, cleared the horrifying eyes in the utter silence. Well, my belief that the darkness could make my sister less scary was not so right, I guess.
If only it was not for my careful search, I would have never found the torch while also dodging the demonly creature. This hard work of mine was hardly appreciated by anyone but look what I found, a tea bag, and of course, an adventure of a simple man with tea bags.
Tea bags
In the whispers of sun, lies the scorching summer,
Which beholds my dear readers, a little tiny summer vacation,
This, irrespective of its size, holds a very dear feeling in our hearts,
I always felt it was a crazy, combative, destructive, yet memorable thing.
Years after, I don't remember what was destructive or combative about them,
Only, of course, if we ignore my dear and kind sister.
What I remember is a funny feeling, a funny feeling of happiness,
This is different; it is not like I won the Olympics or a humongous lottery,
Nor is it like I found a lost eraser, or I ironed the lump of clothes on my bed,
Side story over here, but that specifically is the demon's task.
Yet the generosity and kindness are a curse to me.
You know, this feeling of mine was very close to me as if a treasure,
That lived in the deepest, darkest corner of my bruised heart.
What opened this Davy Jones hidden treasure was a tea bag,
Years prior, we journeyed our way to the city of lakes, Udaipur.
This city was marvelous, with its palaces like dreams etched in stone,
Where the past and present danced in the shimmer of its waters,
Each corner told a story, each alley a secret,
We wandered through the markets, the scents and colors a feast for the senses,
In this city, the laughter echoed louder, the sunsets lingered longer.
It is marvelous, I mumbled to myself, as I found a sole, lonely trader in the extremes of an alley.
He was selling tea bags; of course, listeners of my monologue,
I did not have anything to entertain a nine-year-old boy,
But as with every other kid my age, what entertained me were the mysterious aliens, the baffling history, and the bravery of kings and queens.
What are the chances that all these things are related?
Well, I mean the shady trader told me a story
About how Udai Singh ruled the mystic lands of Udaipur.
He told me stories of his bravery, of how he fought eight tigers with one hand,
Or how he lifted the palace on one finger.
The curious eyes of mine made the trader tell how Udai Singh got his power.
It was from the tea bags, like the ones he had.
He offered me a bargain of a thousand rupees for all of it,
And I bought it, obviously from the emergency money our parents gave us.
I remember clutching that bag of tea like it was a treasure chest,
Rushing back to my family with tales of my grand discovery,
Of the mystical powers hidden in those leaves.
Returned from there joyfully with some mysterious marks on my cheek,
I would have said that I beg to differ but yes, slaps are really handy.
Each night, I brewed a cup, hoping to unlock the secrets of Udai Singh's strength,
And though no tigers were vanquished, nor palaces lifted,
The warmth of the tea brought a different kind of magic.
It wove the fabric of those summer memories tighter,
Binding the laughter, the adventures, the quiet moments into my heart.
In the whispers of the steam, I found the essence of those days,
A summer vacation not measured by its length,
But by the richness of its joy, forever steeped in the flavors of Udaipur.
Comments
Post a Comment