The aroma of cardamom is so strong, it does not just fill the nostrils but makes you remember that beautiful midsummer evening when you had this cup of tea in one hand and a sheet of handmade paper in the other. A lot of things were scribbled on that paper, the black ink enticing you to have a look. But no, some paths are meant to be forgotten, some lanes are not worth walking again.
A porcelain cup, an artist’s sketch book on the table, an ink pen, light rains outside, a perfect setting to write something down. It may or may not have any meaning, but it is still worth penning. Not a big fan of rains, but I definitely like to light a smoke and try. Believe me, I try my best to enjoy the sound of dripping water, the smell of wet soil, and clear surroundings. With all the dust settled down, the ground has been left clean and green, wet and vulnerable.
I wish if there was a way, just like rains wash away the dust from the leaves, to have all the unhappiness washed away from our hearts as well. I wish that if after a fight, or after saying or hearing hurtful words, we could just step into the shower and let it all wash away, and start afresh.
The smell of the spices brewing for a cup of tea, it’s more or less like the smell of your mother, asking you to wake up on a winter morning when the sun has not yet risen and birds have just started to sing that hymn.
A cup of tea belongs to rainy afternoons, no matter whether you are having it in a fancy cup sitting inside the office, or in a kulhad under a tin roof, or in a glass tumbler outside a khokha .
Every time you bring it close to your lips and smell it and take the first sip, you’ll remember that beautiful midsummer evening, the paper and the scribbled notes, and thus, the first cup of tea in the morning.
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