A Tea Cup Of Love

With a heavy steel canister in one hand, paper cups in pocket of his brown apron, running faster then the train, like lightning , Kirtan, ‘the chaiwala’ entered coach number three of the Express train which had arrived almost at the wee hours. “ Chai, masala chai, tea “ saying in loud voice Kirtan moved along the wooden seats in the compartment coaxing people to drink their first cup of tea. Most of the passengers were still sleeping and only few were awake. The train had just left the station and the next station was an hour away. Like a student who is time bound to finish his assignment, so was Kirtan who had to empty the tea canister before he reached the next station where he would alight and take the next train going back to his original destination. This was his daily routine. Thus making at least a dozen trips to sell tea.

Kirtan grew up watching his entire family working in the railway station as vendors selling lunch packets, fruits and tea for the train passengers. Well! Kirtan now was a young man , tall , good health and agile like a trained leopard to jump into a running train whenever it entered the station . The only skill he knew was to sell Tea to the passengers and hand over the money to his mother at the end of the day. In the name of relaxation all he did was watch a movie of his favourite hero once every month and daily spoke to his pet parrot “ Chandini.”

 His grandfather was a mobile train timetable who knew the name of every train and its arrival as well as departure timings so accurately that Kirtan would be ready with his Tea canister like a hawk about to swoop on a careless rabbit.

All these years Kirtan never had any curiosity or inclination to go beyond the second station. All his focus was to catch the the next train and reach his station and get the next set of canister to sell tea again in the train. Fortunately, most of the train ticket conductors were friendly with him and all the sacrifice he had to do was to offer free cup of tea to the conductor and in turn he used to get a chance to travel ticketless in the train. Sometimes he was harassed by some stupid railway police who in the name of security would literally herd him out from one compartment to another. But he never bothered and took it as professional risk.  

Vacations and weekends the business used to be brisk. Just within two compartments his canister would be empty and the leisure time he would study the faces of the passengers or sit at the exit watching the trees and buildings moving at great speed in the opposite direction. Many a times, he observed his ‘Tea’ would work like a bridge of friendship among total strangers by buying a cup of tea for each other. He also witnessed love blossoming over a cup of tea. He vividly remembered a young man stealing loving glances at a lady passenger and was looking for an opportunity to speak to her. He gestured Kirtan to serve a cup of tea to her. The lady gave a quizzical look as if saying she never ordered for tea. Kirtan pointed a finger at the person on the opposite berth and the lady blushed. The young man immediately paid Kirtan double the amount . In few moments , the ‘Chaiwala’ noticed the love birds sitting together lost in lovey dovey conversation. Kirtan the ‘Chai Cupid’ moved to the next compartment.

In his daily trips , Kirtan hardly remembered faces. All the passengers looked alike either with sleepy faces early in the morning or tired faces late at night. Many a times he didn’t he even bother to see the face of his customer. All his interest was to sell the Tea and earn money. 

 It was a Sunday. The the famous ‘Kanti Express train’ entered the station. With  his steel canister, Kirtan entered compartment with a lightening speed. Most of the passengers were still in deep sleep, only some senior citizens were up as a matter of habit .  There was a great relief to see the ‘Chaiwala’.  Kirtan could almost sell a dozen cups of hot tea. He moved to the next cubicle walking between the berths, with expectant eyes for someone to buy more cups of Tea. He softly uttered “ Chai , garm(hot) chai”, so as to not to disturb the sleeping passengers. He had almost reached the end of the compartment,  he suddenly heard a soft voice calling him. He turned back to see one beautiful slim hand with painted fingernails summoning him. Kirtan was suddenly drawn to this beautiful hand and at the same time was curious to see the face. But the face was hidden under a Veil. He slowly moved to the berth and took a paper cup and poured the sweet hot liquid and offered to the beautiful hand.

 “ How much does this cup cost ?” asked the beautiful hand in a sweet voice. Kirtan ‘ the Chai Cupid’ now himself was hit by the love arrow.  He didn’t speak a word but only showed the ten rupee note in his hand. The girl in the veil looked in her bag to pay him. She was frantic to locate her wallet and almost emptied her handbag . She realised that her wallet was gone. Huge tears started falling like pearls broken from a string.  Kirtan understood and told her not to bother to pay him. But the lady’s concern was not paying for the tea but how would she go home with no money. He noticed tears streaming down her eyes which she was desperately trying to brush away. He quickly took out a crumpled hundred rupee note and gave it to her. She shook her head but he insisted. 

“ I sell Tea in every train which passes this station. If God willing we meet again and you can return the money,” said Kirtan almost feeling good at helping the lady and not bothering of the consequences of explaining his father about the missing money in the evening.

Kirtan realised that for the first time he missed his usual station and had to travel back two stations to reach his home. “ Never mind” , he thought at least he got a chance to spend more time with the beautiful hand. He was dying to know her name but thought it would be uncouth to ask a total stranger her name. Though he didn’t speak with her but his heart beat faster than ever. He was forced to to get down in the third station, since he had no ticket with him and moreover his folks would be waiting for him. Most of the Tea in the canister remained unsold . He wondered how his parents would react. Mother might be waiting with the next set of Tea for him to sell. No time to waste. He hastily bid goodbye to the beautiful hand and ran towards the opposite platform to catch an express train which was about to leave.  

When he alighted at his station, he could see the anxious faces of his parents . He gave some flimsy reason and  excused himself from work that day.

That evening he spent most of time with his parrot Chandni , narrating all his experience and how he helped the damsel in distress. He slept fitfully with the dreams of the woman in veil which kept coming the whole night. Next day morning he went to catch the first train and got into the sleeper coach number one but his eyes would dart again and again to berth number seven and imagined that the lady was sitting and smiling at him through her veil. Life was not the same for him anymore. He couldn’t meet his target of selling all the cups of tea and sometimes even missed his routine of getting down in the second station. He kept regretting that at least he should have known the town or city she was going to?

 Days passed , seasons changed and trains continued to run carrying thousands of people to their destination except Kirtan whose only destination was moving in trains , supplying tea and coming home and talking to his chandani, the parrot. Now the dreams of the woman in veil was a part of his life waking and sleeping. He was hopeful that one day he would meet her and like any happy fairy tale , a new train romance would start. 

But all his feelings were like the steam which bellowed from the engine and evaporated in the thin air. He never found her again. Kirtan resigned to his fate and the spark of romance faded like hot vapours of tea from his canister.

It was a rainy evening and the six pm passenger train just entered the station. Kirtan was bit late, he almost ran to get into the compartment with his steel canister and paper cups. His wet shoes suddenly slipped and he was about to fall. But a delicate hand caught him firmly and he managed to enter the compartment. He looked at the person who saved his life. She was young woman, wheatish complexion, big eyes, high cheek bones and had beautiful thin lips. For a moment , shamelessly Kirtan looked at her but gathered his wits , thanked her and moved into the next compartment to sell Tea. He promised himself never to get into any romantic ideas.  

He moved to the next compartment luring customers to have a hot cup of tea in the damp weather. He saw from the corner of his eye the girl following him.  Kirtan was genuinely irritated.

 “Hello! What do you want? Do you want a cup of tea free for saving my life? Or is it your hobby to hound poor vendors like me!”, he spoke irritably. 

 She smiled at him and spoke in a sweet voice “ I am planning to make tea for you to sell if you let me in your kitchen”.

 “ Did I hear right? Why she should prepare Tea for me to sell? What does she think of herself asking a total stranger such an intimate question. I know these type of women. They lay their snare to trap dumb creatures like me. I am yet to recover from my unnecessary charity and my restless nights of meeting the lady in veil. I better get down at the next station before the woman gets some more funny ideas to trap me!”, Kirtan thought.

 He got down at the next station in a hurry and fortunately the other train was waiting to leave in few minutes to take him back to his home station. He almost ran and got into the compartment. The train with a shrill hoot started slowly.

“ Gosh!” He saw the woman too running to get into the train. She almost got into his compartment. For a moment he got a sinister idea of pushing her back but somehow caught her hand. She cling to chest and his hand caught her thin shapely waist. 

“How stupid of you! You could have been killed”, gritting his teeth Kirtan held her tightly in spite of himself.

She smiled, waved a crumpled hundred rupee note close to his eyes. Kirtan could not believe his luck.

“ I am Chandini- the girl who lost her wallet. Need I say anything more”, she said coyly.

 It took some time for Kirtan to understand the import of her words. The sound of the train and the wheels appeared like hundred piece orchestra heralding his happy days with this beautiful woman. He dared and kissed her forehead and together they got down at his home station with the steel canister, few crushed paper cups and lot of joy in the heart.