“Come on Kaka” I pleaded. “Tell me the story”, I said as I sat down on the wooden bench at the Chai Thela Anand.
I had come over to my Moushi’s (aunt’s) place for my winter vacations. My Moushi lived in a very small village called Lakshmanpur in Maharashtra from where the nearest town was about an hour’s drive. She lived in a joint family with over twelve members in it. From Bangalore I had taken a train to Nagpur and then a four hour drive to Lakshmanpur.
It was a tiny village. To an auto-rickshaw-wallah you wouldn’t need to tell the area. Just saying my Moushi’s surname would get you to her place!! The village was peaceful, serene and without any of a city’s hustle-bustle. Men wore Dhotis and Gandhi Topis while women wore sarees and Nav-varis (nine-yard saree). Therefore before coming here I had to gather all my ethnic wear because we would meet a lot of frowning people if I wore western attires.
My Moushi lived in a traditional Haveli built by her great-grand father-in-law. It was over a hundred years’ old building; huge as a palace!As you entered the gate you had to walk over a hundred metres to reach the actual entrance of th house. Those hundred metres were some kind of a drive-way I guessed. There was an office at the entrance, a lawyer’s office; my Moushi’s husband was a lawyer with a roaring practice. As you went further in you would find a huge hall with such a high roof that the fans were useless where there were easy-chairs for the men of the house and very functional wooden chairs for the women!! As one went further in one would find a TV room half as huge as any normal apartment in Bangalore where ladies of the house after their work would watch some sops. Attached to this room was a Pooja room. A room meant for performing daily rituals, poojas and meditation. It was the sanctum sanctorum of the house and had a lot of protocols associated with the behaviour within it. Abut there was a huge kitchen in the house with an enormous dining table meant for sixteen people at a time. The vessles were old, heavy and made of brass. Many cooks served in the kitchen. Since my Moushi’s family were landlords, they had over ten attendants assisting with daily chores at any point of time. Food was always of the guests’ choice and so I had a gala time enjoying all my favourite savouries cooked for me for over a month only for me to put on 3 kgs of weight which was a different issue. From a door leading away from the kitchen was the wash-room complex; two toilets, one bathroom, one room for washing clothes and one room for storing firewood and heating water. These are exactly the kind of luxuries only people living in a village could afford I thought. From a passage that lead to a door outside the washing complex was the backyard where we would find five cows tethered in their sheds either being fed, or being milked or the cows just stood All the cows had beautiful names. Nandi, Gowri, Kamala, Savitri and Pushpa!! Kailash Kaka and Prahlad Kaka always took care of the cows and Kailash Kaka always told us about the nature of the cows. “Gowri’s very arrogant while Pushpa is very calm” he said. “Gowri is the only cow who ever-kicked me” with a little disappointment patting her on the back.
In the backyard one would find huge trees with berries on which we have survived for days together during our holidays. From a staircase in the hall, on the first floor were two bedrooms. Two for my cousins, two for guests and adjoining my bedroom was the terrace where I would while away hours reading books or listening to the birds chirp.
As I arrived the whole family greeted my with hugs as I did Namaskar to each one of the elders.
Moushi gave me a bowl full of curd and sugar knowing very well my weakness for milk products and with the cows here I indulged into every possible dish made out of milk.
It was usual that I spent three or four days at home enjoying with my cousins but later on I would roam around in the village going to my favourite library, going to the market and to the Chai Thela.
I would wake up early and join my Moushi to do Yoga on the terrace after which I would bathe, finish my breakfast, get ready, accompany my cousins to their college (since I’m from a different state our winter holidays wouldn’t coincide) and head towards the village library. I absolutely loved the library. It was huge. I would spend hours reading books, encyclopaedias, Marathi short stories, some little poetry and Marathi newspaper which I would never get to see in Bangalore. The people working in the library knew me as Moushi’s winter vacation neice. All of them had seen me from when I was a kid and gave me biscuits as I sat down reading books. At about 12 I would go home for lunch, around 3 to the Chai Thela and around 5 pm head back to my cousins’ college to go back home. After we reached back, we would talk for hours, later have dinner and sleep.
This was my routine.
One day as usual I woke up. After doing all the usual stuff I headed to the library. For whatever reason that day I did not feel like reading any book. So I grabbed my bag and headed to the Chai Thela. Ram Kaka, who owned the Thela was an extremely kind man. He was in the mid-sixties, short and with an extraordinarily affectionate smile. He spent his entire life making tea for people. His hands worked with magical efficiency. He effortlessly memorized people’s orders of Masala Chai, Khadi Chammach Chai, Kadak Chai and Kali Chai and never made the mistake of providing wrong tea to the wrong person. His charges varied from Rs 5 to Rs 15, Masala tea being the most expensive priced at Rs 15. At times when it would rain he would also ask his wife Kamala Kaku to prepare some fresh Vadas and Alu Bondas. His Chai Thela was named Anand after his father. There was a small counter where he would prepare tea and there were four other wooden benches for people to sit. Usually peak hours would be 10 in the morning, 4 to 6 in the evening. And exactly at 6 o’clock the district Magistrate or Judge Sahib would come to his place to have his special Masala Chai.
Ram Kaka always greeted his customers with a Namaste or Ram Ram or for his Muslim clients Salaam. While his morning customers would be in haste, his evening clients would be more relaxed after the day’s work and Kaka would put on the radio for his customers. At6, Judge Sahib would come and as he would enter, people would generally stand up and give him place to sit. In the evenings the men usually spoke about politics, corruption and the judge Sahib too participated actively in these conversations. There was another thing I really liked about the Thela which was that smoking was banned in the premises. “Only smugglers smoke” he would say with finality.
Ram Kaka had seen me from when I was three. Everytime I visited Moushi and when I visited his place he would remark “Oh! You’ve grown so tall!! Stop becoming taller or else we will have trouble finding a groom for you!” he would say and I would laugh. But from the time I would spend time in the library in the holidays, I would always go around three in the afternoon to have tea at his place.
But today I was at the door of the Thela at 10:30. As I entered I saw a couple of say 20 year olds walk out. As I went in Ram Kaka was smiling as he picked up the cups left by people. “Kay Jhala Kaka? (What happened Kaka?) Why are you smiling?” I asked.
He turned and smilingly asked “How come you are so early today Bitiya?”.
“Got bored” I replied.
“So anyway, why were you smiling Kaka?” I persisted (I did that often. Ask a question till I got an answer).
“Oh!! That’s a long story!!” Kaka exclaimed.
“Come on Kaka. Tell me na” I demanded.
“Oh you kids are so busy these days. Where will you have time to listen to stories we oldies tell you” he replied.
I wondered as to when I had mentioned to him that I was busy. In fact he knew I was jobless during my vacations.
“Kya Kaka? Why are you doing like this?” I continued.
He looked at me. “Phew!! You are just like you were as a kid, annoyingly persistent!!! Anyway, while I tell you, what tea do you want?” he asked with a tinge of irritation in his voice.
“Well!! It is cold today” I said.
“I asked which tea?” he snapped.
“Ok fine. I want Masala Chai” I said.
As he picked up the utensils he started “Long ago, around 45 years back when my father told me to take up business, I started my Thela. I liked making tea and listening to people talk. So I began my business and soon had to get married. My father had chosen Kamala as my bride and so that meant that I had to earn more. My Thela had very few customers then, so I increased the variety by introducing black tea and Tulsi tea for the ladies. But my weakness was that when someone bargained or argued with me, I would shout and say ‘Don’t ever come back to my Thela’”.
“Baap Re!!! Really Kaka?” I exclaimed.
He smiled and continued “My father would often observe my behaviour and after work while going home would tell me thousand stories to explain my mistakes or even to tell me how I was correct.”
Ram Kaka placed my Masala Chai in front of me.
“He taught me so much. You know Jiza beta? Customer is not a burden on us. We survive because of him . . . . we have absolutely no business to be rude with him” he continued. “Slowly I changed. I started giving Pakodas in rainy season and my shop started gaining popularity.”
“Being nice to people, introducing variety, never talking back to customers, even remembering their names . . . All of these things help you know . . .” he said.
“Just now you saw this young couple isn’t it? They said they had chosen me as some anthrop. . . .uhh . . .” he faltered.
“Entrepreneur?” I suggested.
“Haan Yah. They had chosen me as that for some project of theirs and say that my name will come in their magazine” he grinned.
“From where have they come Kaka?” I enquired.
“Some IAM something . . . Kuch Ahmedabad mein hein bole” he said.
“Oh my God!!!” I exclaimed. “Kaka you are so great. Ha ha. Ask Kamala Kaku to make some rice Kheer for you today!!”
Tears welled up in his eyes. “Without my father’s lessons I would have been nothing beta.” He wiped his tears with the cloth perennially resting on his shoulders. “And today Im so fulfilled”. He sat down.
“Kaka, can I make some tea for you?”
He smiled.
I got up to make tea while he added “Beta you know? I never felt bad that I did not study, I never felt bad that I do not own a Haveli to live in . . . but you know . . . I still am very happy. I think God will forgive me for not studying” he said as I smiled.
“Man” I thought. “I wish I had half as much contentment with all the degrees I would have gained by the time I were his age”. After a while as I walked back home I thought ‘Man!!! How I loved these people? How lucky was I to meet them? I loved life!!!’ I thought and smiled.
And as I entered my Moushi’s home for lunch, my cousin saw me and said “Kay Jhala Jiza? Why are you smiling?” and the story was further shared with her . . .
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