Time for tea? Time for two!

Lone lunches have never been uncommon or unpleasant. Even when work has kept your nose to the grindstone all through the morn, if you just can’t wait to get back to it, small talks could be extremely distracting and friends would know better than to please you or expect to be pleased!

But Tea! It's a wholly different affair. There’s nothing more frustrating to yourself or insulting to a cup of tea, than carrying one to your workplace, and sipping it between typing or taking a call.
Or worse, making one for just yourself at home. Never enjoyed doing any of this.

So, table for one? Perfectly fine. Tea for one? No please!

Tea at work

The very purpose of drinking tea during the course of a day is to break the humdrum of it, to be your own self for a few good minutes, revelling in the fragrance of friendship, relish in bitter sweet gossips, partake in a pal’s pain or pleasure; tea doesn’t just come in packs, it comes with its own package!

Nothing’s more welcome than your buddy pinging you “t?”

You can’t say “No” to that short and sweet invite, however busy you are; single letter; single syllable. The minimalism is enticing.

You type “S!” and your buddy goes “Away” only to climb down a flight of stairs to arrive at your workplace; pretend to be irritated to find you still working. Your workmates suddenly discover that you are not a statue glued to your chair, and you can walk and talk.

A walk to the farthest coffee machine on the floor is necessary; of course, you need to rant about your dear boss and can’t risk being overheard, as you can’t keep your voice down to save your life. Moreover, your crush happens to sit next to the coffee machine you always choose, of which your friend is blissfully unaware, or pretends to be and gives into your bullying.

You hardly remember drinking the tea, or realize that it hardly tastes like one. You always complain that the quality of tea keeps deteriorating just as the state of affairs in the company. After a nice healthy dosage of gossip, laughter, meanness exchanged your friend and you part ways feeling totally rejuvenated. And while he chooses the short route to his desk, you excuse yourself in the pretext of going to the bathroom, only to take the detour past your crush, or crushes, if you have more than one!

Tea at home

At home, the scenario is completely different. But still it’s the same because you can never make a single cup of tea. Your assorted mugs are all in pairs, and it’s such a shame to take out only one of them. Also, the tea never tastes the same when you boil water only for one.

Making tea

Look at the clock; yes, even if you believe anytime’s tea time, you invariably look at the clock. If it’s eleven o clock in the morning, perfect! If it’s one-thirty in the afternoon, you’re not hungry, you’re going to have a late lunch! So there.

Is there ginger in the house? Oh yes, you forget to buy onions and tomatoes, but never ginger! Imagine making tea without it? Nightmare!

Boil half a cup of water in your favourite saucepan; crush an inch sized ginger well and put it in the water; close the saucepan; after a few moments open the lid and if you can see the water has turned a ravishing orange, it means the ginger has been extracted of all its juice!

Add two teaspoons of tea and simmer the stove. Immediately add one and a half cups of cold milk, and two spoonfuls of sugar. Switch off the stove when it all comes to a boil. Have the strainer and two pretty mugs ready.

Now comes the ‘Aha’ moment!

Tipping the sauce pan and pouring out exactly two mugs of tea takes you as closer to Nirvana as you can possibly expect during the light of day!

Be it sitting cosily beside your loved one, or walking to the neighbour’s doorbell with the other cup, tender moments spent over tea are plucked right from the heavenly estate!  

Stay tuned for tea at roadside…

The pack keeps sneering,
smug and well-fed,
over repasts of rotten carcasses,
knowing all the ways of vultures,
attuned to maps where corpses lie,
their complacence unbeatable,
skills of stealth invincible;
The canine prowls, abiding time
enduring, quelling hunger and ire,
its hungry growl gurgles within

Juxtaposed

Akin to a cigarette lighter, 
Romance lights up in a jiffy;  
Anytime you want, to give you some high, 
going out as soon as you choose. 

Good old Love is the country stove 
that cooks your food and keeps you warm;
Never going out beneath the embers
which to stoke, you must give your all!

Redemption

My form isn't flawless,
nor without a blemish;
but no longer shall I hide, 
behind veils of ugly pride.

My wounds, they still do bleed,
certainly, no pretty sight;
but I will let them breathe,
heal the root of the blight.

My scars I'll no more cover,
nor my fears in the dark, cower;
of pain, I refuse to brood,
out in the light, I'm nude!

With your pretty paints on,
and robes you lovingly adorn,
why should you take offense?
of someone who's shunned defense?

Licking blood off your knives,
grinding them all your lives,
you forget to salve your wounds,
dancing to morbid tunes

I am every bit as sick,
but I frankly claim to be,
which is earning me your pique,
And, I know, stoning awaits me!

Juxtaposed

Akin to a cigarette lighter, 
Romance lights up in a jiffy;  
Anytime you want, to give you some high, 
going out as soon as you choose. 

Good old Love is the country stove 
that cooks your food and keeps you warm;
Never goes out beneath the embers, 
but to kindle it each time, you must give your all!

A storm-hunt

I went looking for footprints
that had just left my heart;
traipsed along unknown lands,
amidst raging storms,
and strange soul-stirring sounds;
braving the blinding odds,
delving within deep woods,
and leaving no stone unturned,
I looked for them in vain;
at the crack of dawn,
as the skies slowly cleared,
I returned home empty,
leaving my own prints yonder,
pocketing just the storms.

Burn away midnight oil,
Thy flames dancing pure and bright;
Show no mercy as I writhe and recoil
Relentlessly strike me and smite
Let the pain be felt, long and deep
Singe me, scorch me, lull me to sleep

A tableau

The empty house stands right there,

still locked, blue, and bleak.
Just as it has for ages, now, 
earning not as much as a glance.
Today it giggled, shrieking with mirth,
tickling itself, shrugging off dust,
mocking at me, whispering of a night,
when it burst bizarrely into life,
getting to play a sudden voyeur,
partner in crime, his and mine,
as he loitered down my lonely lane;
It was those steps he chose to adorn;
on those walls leaned his lanky frame;
blazing eyes lighted mine,
bleached walls borrowing our shine;
sweet notes hurriedly sung,
wound into creepers on window rungs;
smiles and kisses of rich baritone
spilled over, drenching my ears,
planting themselves onto every crevice;
spring bloomed out of the blue,
on that dull, dreary, and battered porch,
on a cold, dry, and wintry night,
leaving the old house, forever changed,
just for this stealthy pair of eyes

Today

Pieces of me lay scattered around,
butchered and minced by a day just gone.
A day that swept into a demonic night
One I clung to for dear life;
It just died a pitiful death,
leaving me aghast, agonizingly alive
Before I knew it, there's another,
a new and glorious day in its place,
born stealthily as every other day,
only this is so beautiful,
one that's come to devour me whole.

The sun's benign, trees make love,
a breeze wafts through,
so cool and blue;
A lonely crow sits and chirps
atop the tree that it calls its own;
This is the day I want to leave,
And leave soon, before it does.

The debt

It's only a bit of soul
you let free in the wild,
to live all your dreams
die for a few, may be
feed on toxins, sweet and sour

it's only that teeny bit
you could well afford it,
lose it in the dark alley,
turn your back on it,
pretend it's not yours

but it sits there yonder,
with bloodshot eyes,
feeding on your neglect,
never to rest,
shrieking the most,
on the quietest of nights
haunting you now, then, and forever

Eureka!

Disown with abandon what you love;
Drop it within your brimming heart.
Sinking deep, let it show its worth,
or staying afloat, be skimmed away.
Care not to grasp, or even hold,
for the teeniest touch distorts the truth!

Spring cleaning

I stay up all night
owing to myself
to exterminate before dawn,
to the last single lie 
that the night keeps whispering;
so I can handover
a pristine morn
to the first bird that chirps;
there aren't many nights left,
contrary to the lies,
which keep breeding in multitudes
I am tired, exhausted, and sick,
that the best I shall have to give,
could only be a well-worn mop 
with an unfinished task...

A funeral

Slowly and surely,

you killed it mercilessly.
That which you planted,
and we nurtured with bared souls;
'twas a most painful death;
I stood there shocked;
- a gruesome horror to behold.
Helpless, I did all I could, in vain;
It breathed its last as you left its side
I dug the grave, calling out for you;
you replied with long silences.
I said my prayers with a throbbing heart;
you answered with your sinful smirks.
Finally,
'Lay some flowers' - I implored you;
you stamped the ones even I had laid.

A house on fire

The house is on fire;
a sudden raging, raving fire!
the tongues teasing you most cruelly,
raring to devour you once and for all!
struck with shock and grief,
your feet are glued firmly to the ground,
you knew was once dearly yours;
the earth underneath now giving way,
crumbling, ready to suck you into oblivion;
there's no way you can save the house,
no way you can stop its end;
so shut your eyes and flee, don't bother to pack,
lest gruesome ravages start filling the eye;
tarnishing every single beauty of the past.

The drama unfolds; ,
Act after act,
Scene by scene;
Players exhibting their genius' best
Acting out their own nemesis

The Rink

The ice breaks, 
beneath the blades,
just so she slides and glides; 
Never too long to sink deep,
nor to risk a fatal fall, steep;
It melts right down,
for a momentary trance,
freezing right back
as she blithely moves on.

I (can't) see Red!

Green veins of your fore arms,
Deep browns of your searching gaze,
The blues I get when I miss you;
You colour my fading youth
with every hue possible;
To paint my pale cheeks a faint red,
you ask a bit of my own heart's blood!

The zombie

A zombie walks this earth all day,

doing a little of this, and a little of that;

Waiting until night, night after night,

for the soul to come and re-unite

in the light of day,

spades dig out the corpse;

Clockwork makes the zombie go;

its hungry soul lurks beneath,

hoping for the dark,

waiting for its night.

The stillness on the surface
had me hoodwinked;
No mirage for sure, as I drank deeply,
Bewitched by the magic waters..
Not daring a plunge, too sure of drowning!
an inane wish growing for the same,
A fit of impulse, and I dive headlong;
Lucky to be still alive,
with a broken skull and all!

Bone-wracking hugs are kind
Kisses that draw blood, kinder
Smiles and handshakes, not too much can be had,
Even cold shrugs, never too bad
Be wary of, definitely watch out for
Gentle fingers stroking your temples,
Innocuous arms, slipping into yours,
with feather-like strokes, rendering goosebumps,
Only to pluck it right out of your chest,
walk away, and bleed you to death!