i stopped. with that stopped the array of thoughts i was indulged, lost in. i smelled the fragrance that only the fresh fumes of tea can produce. turning around, i found a group of nocturnal wanderers standing in a circle. i took out my headphones and reached out to the mob driven by thirst, adventure and insomnia, only to find a women with a stove and other paraphernalia, sitting right in the epicenter. a middle aged women, a mother of two (who were playing some kind of hide and seek around a car nearby), serving tea in this ungodly hour of the night. strange. i took one 'chai' in a disposable cup and sat down at the raised border of the footpath, mesmerized by the the play of the street lights on the roads.
thoughts started taking over their troll again. although, all the dizziness was gone. the tea was good. i looked at the women, struggling for survival. i remembered the saying, 'when the stomach is empty, you go for grains. not gold'. i wondered how much she earned by this small venture. though the price for one cup of tea was almost double than what you see in daylight, still this might not be sufficient for running a family with two kids. i wondered what his husband do for a living? or even he is alive to make a living?
my wandering brain was brought into senses by the infamous siren of the police. and suddenly, the silent night was filled with loud harsh voices of fat policemen and rattles of bike engines as the nocturnal customers fled away. apparently, the game of hide and seek stopped.the kids were now standing right next to their mother, right where almost a dozen people were, some seconds ago. for one or two minutes, there were some loud shouting, some pleads for mercy, some silent negotiations, all in indistinguishable marathi. i kept my distance, watching it all as a neutral spectator. then, one policeman, who appeared to be the leader of the night troll, grabbed the arm of one of the kids and seized him towards the policevan. apparently the negotiation did not shape up like he expected.
thoughts started taking over their troll again. although, all the dizziness was gone. the tea was good. i looked at the women, struggling for survival. i remembered the saying, 'when the stomach is empty, you go for grains. not gold'. i wondered how much she earned by this small venture. though the price for one cup of tea was almost double than what you see in daylight, still this might not be sufficient for running a family with two kids. i wondered what his husband do for a living? or even he is alive to make a living?
my wandering brain was brought into senses by the infamous siren of the police. and suddenly, the silent night was filled with loud harsh voices of fat policemen and rattles of bike engines as the nocturnal customers fled away. apparently, the game of hide and seek stopped.the kids were now standing right next to their mother, right where almost a dozen people were, some seconds ago. for one or two minutes, there were some loud shouting, some pleads for mercy, some silent negotiations, all in indistinguishable marathi. i kept my distance, watching it all as a neutral spectator. then, one policeman, who appeared to be the leader of the night troll, grabbed the arm of one of the kids and seized him towards the policevan. apparently the negotiation did not shape up like he expected.
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