The smell of green tea filled that small pantry. The sachet had just been taken out of the hot water in the cup. The sachet was then wound around the spoon, just so that the last drop of green tea essence could be wrenched out.
I took a sip from the cup and looked at him. He was more sad than usual today, his wrinkles more pronounced.
His name was.... hmm... does it really matter? He was just another illegal immigrant from our subcontinent, working in the middle east- the only bread earner for his family- back in the subcontinent.
Today was a hot day. Yesterday was hotter.
"Kal raat ko soye nahi kya?" ("Did you not sleep last night?"), I asked him.
He shook his head- his eyes blank and fixated on the floor.
I took another sip and started moving towards the door.
As I held the handle that opened the door, I heard his feeble voice-
"Kal meri beti ki shaadi hai..." ("It is my daughter's wedding tomorrow").
I walked towards him with a smile.
"Arey waah! Aaj nikal rahe ho aap fir...." ("That's nice. So, are you leaving today?")
His eyes still fixed on the ground, he pushed his chair back and walked away, shaking his head.
"Kya umr hai uski?" ("How old is she?"), I asked him.
"15". A tear drop appearing in his eye.
"Kab mile us-se last?" ("When did you last meet her?")
"Jab wo ek baras ki thhi" ("When she was a year old").
That tear drop now led a series of other tear drops down his cheek.
"Toh...jaana nahi hai kya?" ("So.. would you not like to go?")
"Jaaoonga, toh waapas nahi aa paaoonga." ("If I go, I cannot return.")
He rubbed his eyes, brushed away the trail of tear drops, tugged at the handle and walked out of the room.
In my mind, I thanked him for a lesson he had taught me. I was living a great life and had a reason every second to thank God for- for the life I lived.
I muttered a prayer to the same God... for the girl's happiness.
The pantry was pregnant with smell of green tea. I pulled at the handle and walked out of the room.
I took a sip from the cup and looked at him. He was more sad than usual today, his wrinkles more pronounced.
His name was.... hmm... does it really matter? He was just another illegal immigrant from our subcontinent, working in the middle east- the only bread earner for his family- back in the subcontinent.
Today was a hot day. Yesterday was hotter.
"Kal raat ko soye nahi kya?" ("Did you not sleep last night?"), I asked him.
He shook his head- his eyes blank and fixated on the floor.
I took another sip and started moving towards the door.
As I held the handle that opened the door, I heard his feeble voice-
"Kal meri beti ki shaadi hai..." ("It is my daughter's wedding tomorrow").
I walked towards him with a smile.
"Arey waah! Aaj nikal rahe ho aap fir...." ("That's nice. So, are you leaving today?")
His eyes still fixed on the ground, he pushed his chair back and walked away, shaking his head.
"Kya umr hai uski?" ("How old is she?"), I asked him.
"15". A tear drop appearing in his eye.
"Kab mile us-se last?" ("When did you last meet her?")
"Jab wo ek baras ki thhi" ("When she was a year old").
That tear drop now led a series of other tear drops down his cheek.
"Toh...jaana nahi hai kya?" ("So.. would you not like to go?")
"Jaaoonga, toh waapas nahi aa paaoonga." ("If I go, I cannot return.")
He rubbed his eyes, brushed away the trail of tear drops, tugged at the handle and walked out of the room.
In my mind, I thanked him for a lesson he had taught me. I was living a great life and had a reason every second to thank God for- for the life I lived.
I muttered a prayer to the same God... for the girl's happiness.
The pantry was pregnant with smell of green tea. I pulled at the handle and walked out of the room.
