It
happened one afternoon. . .
Someone
was talking with rain
Down in
the street that afternoon
When I
was adding milk
In the
bubbling water on the stove
“Is it
really easy to think about a cup of tea?”
I
thought as I tried to catch
My
reflection in the bowl
And
added some smashed ginger
When
found no one in there;
I was
thinking about tea-leaves
When I
recognised the hand. . .
The hand
tapping the door since ages
But
still not willing to walk inside
It was
him
Kissing
the rain with every inch of his body
He
entered that empty room
Full of
avoidable things
And
looked up into the mirror
The only
place where he had never been alone. . .
“Do you
really like rain?”
I wanted
to ask him
When he
turned away
Holding
the tea I offered him. . .
“Don’t
you think about sugar?”
He asked
after making few soundless sips
And for
the first time ever
I
thought it is always good
To make
two cups of tea
If you
are not sure
You are
not waiting for someone. . !
(15 June 2013)
