Its a cold, breezy night in this part of India as I write it. And as I write it I am paying an unbiased attention to the Led Zeppelin track ‘Stairway to heaven’ playing in the background. One of those tracks that has helped me to take a walk into my hollow self, penetrating through the possibilities of confronting the real-time questions of my existence.
I’m sipping passionately from my cup of tea. Tea – something that has a part to play in my story of life for the reason that it has been an inseparable addiction through out the journey. More of an intimate companion than an addiction. It has seen me in all my phases, patiently and assuring everytime that things would pass, they would fall into the place and if it doesn’t pass or fall in place, it would eventually cease to exist anymore for me. It has always ensured a closure or a beginning.
Time has been slipping down my fist and I have been over-weighing myself with the self-deigned wings of anomaly. Sometimes I could barely crawl, leave alone flying. But time has a magical wing – it never stopped flying.
I have been to different states of the country and met different sets of people. Different cups of tea but none my type. My way of life is defined by my act of anomaly and so was the idea of my perfect cup of tea. They both always occured somehow away from the standard expectations. But just because they were not close to my perfect cup of tea, it would be incorrect to say they were not my cup of tea. Some of those people have had me in their flavour and I had them in my states of self-discovery, self-discipline, contentment and in the state of misery altogether.
There were people in my life which happened to have made their presence worth a notice. Like any random cup of tea on any day in any month of an year – they have something to offer and if not have, they had. People – masked or unmasked; I loved the air above their head. For some I loved the sand beneath their feet. And for some I loved the love and freedom across their arms.
I seem to adopt the idea of my kind of people as unsettled as my cup of perfect tea. It is like a wish thrown into the void. You’re not even sure if their is someone on the receiving side. It makes me restless too as the search doesn’t seem to end anywhere. And so the quest continues and so does walking into the unknown. It is like a silhouette of that imaginary edges of a person or my cup of tea in the distant, in the void. I can’t see it for real – the body of it, the face of it – can’t know the real flavour of it. But all I do is to come across the newer ones each day as a result of never fading quest of mine and craving to know my perfect cup of tea for real.
Maybe they are not the one I’m looking for and all these people I have come across are those cups of tea that has added more meaning to my life, more colors and sometimes more misery too. But at the end of a day they were what I chose to had.
Looking for the source of that silhouette would someday lead me to the end of my story and every single cup of tea that I have had till the end will be the chapters. But I will keep on looking – for my kind of people; my kind of tea – in the void. Always.