Friday, Sep 22 2017

Milk Tea Confessions

  • 9-Dec-2015

 

By Kajol Ratanjankar

Like sweet spice filling of India wrapped in deep fried samosa dough;

The slamming smell of cardamom flavored biscuits from the sweet shop on the corner;

Hiccupping, booming, tinkling laughter of gossiping aunties enjoying their sole hour of freedom before the kids and the husbands come home;

The shy smile of a bride serving tea to her groom on their first meeting;

Muffled monsoon rains pouring outside my fifth floor window;

4’o’clock office break on the roadside in May’s sweltering heat;

Like pangs for ghar ki dal-chawal temporarily satisfied;

The chaiwalla pacing on the platform at Victoria Terminal and becking customers through the grilled windows of the Deccan Queen, “Chai-coffee! Chai-coffee!”

The misty calm of weekday dawns before the newspaper lands on your doorstep, and the hub-bub of the morning rush hour begins.

An energy drink for dadaji recently returned from his ten rounds of the Nana-Nani park;

Like aai’s hand rubbing your back in comfort as you slouch over your science textbook at midnight;

The three hour deep conversations with your best friend that leave the tea rinds dried and forgotten at the bottom of our cups.

One sip of Chai,

is the key to memories passed unnoticed.

Haiku’s to Mumbai

By Kajol Ratanjankar

Red spit stained footpaths

Sweat dripping crowds hang on trains

Still Mumbai is home.

 

Rickshaws, buses, cars

Meandering traffic dance

Still Mumbai is home.

 

Money drained pockets

Fuel bottomless Swiss tax pools

Still Mumbai is home

 

Six men rape one girl

Three years court trials ensue

Still Mumbai is home

 

Bible viewers hide

Hindus and Muslims riot

Still India is home

 

Sex assaults on rise

Union health wants sex-ed ban

Still India is home

 

Monkeys cover sense,

Bollywood entertains on

And India is home.

 

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