When was it?

The last time you had a conversation with yourself?

After sipping the Chai, it was the very first question that slipped out of my mouth. The chai outlets are gaining momentum, and as a chai lover I look down at the coffee lovers. See, your drink is getting costlier and Chai is maintaining its humbleness. You doubt my statement; well consider paying close attention to that figures which comes printed on those white slips, they give you in a nice leather jacket, neatly concealing the loots.

Chai and biscuits if not cakes or samoosa, that is what the perfect combinations to unlock my happiness vault. Trust me; a sip from that hot steaming cup can elevate your mood. Next down time try it.

He looked at me and gave that smile. My friends never took me serious. It is a blessing as well as a cruse.  Isn’t the devil just a fallen angel?

I took the cue, because I read my friends well too. I knew it that he is not going to respond to my question. So I took the lead and said,

“Well, I can share my tips on the question, to the one which I just threw at you. The best way to have a conversation with one self is to write them down. The ups, the downs and the in-betweens, the most loudest scream in silence, into the paper”

Wait!

This is interesting, when was it, the last time you really wrote something?

No! No! Not the typing on any gadgets, I meant the real writing on the paper with pen/pencil, that experience of connecting your feelings with the words.

No answer again!

The bill came, for that one cup of chai and a plate of samoosa.

I looked at the girl, who was sitting with someone, she was looking deep into the glass of chai, and the boy left the table, leaving the girl all alone in the company of her tears which broke through her struggle to stop them.

Then a look from that girl fell sharp into my eyes.  She didn’t even wipe her tears.

I stopped the scribbling on the tissue paper, kept the pencil inside the pocket. Took the bill and walked towards the counter, I kept the tissue paper on her table, near her chai cup.

I walked towards the counter, paid the bill and without looking back to see what happened to the tissue paper and the words wrapped in it, I walked onto the filled street, Alone!

Version II

When I entered the tea shop, I saw this guy who was wearing a hood and scribbling on a tissue paper, with a pencil.Well the rain has just trimmed down its wrath, my attention was on that table where this stranger sat with the pencil. He was now talking to someone. What was unusual about it was there we no one else! There was he, his cup of tea and a plate of Samosa! Maybe he was reciting them before giving those letters and words an asylum on those tissue papers. 


My mobile rang! “I have reached the tea shop.” Without adding a hello I replied to the call. “What?! You should have rather crossed the street to block a seat at my favorite coffee house! What is wrong with you? Acha! Tell me, from when you started liking tea?” Came the response from the other end. The bullets of words that could penetrate through and make me feel as an invalid in front of him. And about my love for coffee? The truth was I was always a Chai person. I shifted my loyalty towards coffee just because he hated chai. I am not blaming him. I am blaming myself for being so blind, in love!


Mind you, it was always like that, my attention to details weren’t acknowledged ever. He never took them with the face value, the little things we crave for, from our partner. Does education ruin a man’s character? I have changed thoughts, because they could. I can’t blame him for that too. I was the stone in his shoe. He never approved my suggestions too!


Once when I tried to show my appreciation on an art work, he scoffed. He shut me up my saying, “Anything but not the painting, okay? I know much about art than you.” I took the dent, as always I did, to make sure he had that pleasure of insulting a human, with him being superior full of shitty attitude. I blame myself for not bragging about my hobbies and interest to him, but he didn’t have that time to listen me. It was always about him!


 Whenever I tried to strike a conversation, he brushed it away by saying, “Hey! Another time, I got to go!”


‘Yes! You got to go, you got to finish some pressing thing, and you are not in the mood!’I settled on the nearby table. I scrolled through my instagram feed, and noticed a quote which read,

‘THERE ARE SOME WHO TALK TO YOU IN THEIR FREE TIME, AND THERE IS ANOTHER GROUP WHO MAKE FREE TIME TO TALK TO YOU’


Before I could finish the quote, he knocked on the table, and sat opposite to me. I saw that anonymous guy, who was now looking at me. I stared back at the stranger with my teary eyes, and he retreated.


“So tell me? Why you wanted to see me?” my boy friend asked.

His eyes were fixed at the stained tea cup in front of me. 

I stuttered and managed to say, “You’re free now! You can go to new pastures and be with the ones, whom you want to be with!”


His mobile vibrated, he raised his index finger to make a gesture to excuse himself, and attended the call.Everything inside me came to a standstill. The pain was aggravated. The only thing that doesn’t make any noise when it shatters and inflicts enormous pain is the Heart! And I was experiencing one right inside my ribcage.


He kept his mobile on the table and asked, “Can we finish it off quick? I need to go.” 


I replied, “Yes, let us finish it. Anyway, I see no point in watering a dead flower.”

Nothing dramatic happened. 

All I heard from him was, ‘Okay. Best of luck!’Then he left the table.

I was struggling, through my tears. That was when I saw that anonymous guy. He stopped scribbling, and started collecting his things. Holding that tissue paper, he walked towards the billing counter. He stopped at my table and slid the tissue near my teacup and walked away.


Teary eyed, I picked it up.The opening lines of that note were, “When was it? When was the last time you had a conversation with yourself?”


Before continuing through the rest of the words, I looked back to get a glimpse of him. Who was that anonymous person!History says, anonymous was a woman, but all I knew is this anonymous wasn’t!


I saw him walking into the crowded street, alone, like an easing torment.