The smell of hot Samosas frying in the oil filled her with memories of a land she had long forgotten.The land of dreams,hopes,aspirations,laughter,smiles.Not to forget,the pain,tears,and wound it had left behind.The river in the picture, on the wall suddenly confluenced with the imagery in her mind of the still deep waters of Manimala.The days she had spent on the banks throwing pebbles at hoppers,creating ripples(any bum's delight)gave her an impetus to think further.
All memories ushered in fresh thoughts and sour tears.The aroma of the piping hot masala tea filled her thoughts.Slowly,gradually she was sipping hot memories.There stood the small,yet happening place-Kochettan's 'chaya kada'.Home meant memories.Memories meant her village.Village meant Kochettan's 'chaya kada'.
Her days started with a distant glance of the 'chayakada' from her room in the upper storey.She would peep out through the curtain at the shack, at the corner of the road.The masala chai,pakodas,ordinary tea,samosas all were attractions.But not strong enough to peep out every morning.Yes,the lanky young man in lungi who would smile while gulping the not so cold tea had crept in silently into her dreams and occupied a position, not so favourable to her parents.
Daily,she walked to her bus stop and had to cross Kochettan's 'chayakada'.He would be standing there with a grin.Again,in the evening,she would cross it.There he would be standing like a pole supporting kochettan's 'chayakada'.She cherished the smell of the masala mix from the shack that added a flavour to her passion.Her dreams floated on the hot vapours of his tea.The 'chayakada' ignited the 'she' in her.
When things got worse at home,she felt helpless like the batter in the burning oil.Her dreams got charred.Her love burnt.The aroma gave way to smell of carbon.
Black,dark,oblivion.
She was coughing.The air was suffocating.The smoke enveloped the kitchen.She turned off the stove.Switched on the exhaust fan.Opened the windows.Fresh air blew in.But the Samosas were burnt and no more edible.
All memories ushered in fresh thoughts and sour tears.The aroma of the piping hot masala tea filled her thoughts.Slowly,gradually she was sipping hot memories.There stood the small,yet happening place-Kochettan's 'chaya kada'.Home meant memories.Memories meant her village.Village meant Kochettan's 'chaya kada'.
Her days started with a distant glance of the 'chayakada' from her room in the upper storey.She would peep out through the curtain at the shack, at the corner of the road.The masala chai,pakodas,ordinary tea,samosas all were attractions.But not strong enough to peep out every morning.Yes,the lanky young man in lungi who would smile while gulping the not so cold tea had crept in silently into her dreams and occupied a position, not so favourable to her parents.
Daily,she walked to her bus stop and had to cross Kochettan's 'chayakada'.He would be standing there with a grin.Again,in the evening,she would cross it.There he would be standing like a pole supporting kochettan's 'chayakada'.She cherished the smell of the masala mix from the shack that added a flavour to her passion.Her dreams floated on the hot vapours of his tea.The 'chayakada' ignited the 'she' in her.
When things got worse at home,she felt helpless like the batter in the burning oil.Her dreams got charred.Her love burnt.The aroma gave way to smell of carbon.
Black,dark,oblivion.
She was coughing.The air was suffocating.The smoke enveloped the kitchen.She turned off the stove.Switched on the exhaust fan.Opened the windows.Fresh air blew in.But the Samosas were burnt and no more edible.
farah...bravo girl bravo!!! liked it to the last sentence...and iam very happy to see that u actually took the 'try different things' suggestion seriously:)
ReplyDelete:) all smiles....hehehe...
ReplyDeletei didn hav much faith in this...but happy to kno dt it wasn dt flop an attempt...
u just simply provd me ri8 yaar, that the other 1 was a cliche...
ReplyDeletethis is simply the best u hav written so far( though i m still rinku renu fan:):))..
some of those lines were really refreshing ..
n please dont misunderstand me bt i really do find a smack of arundathi roy n 'lungi' some hw reminds me of kamala das'..
n wait i will surely come up with an analysis of this cz i jus simply loved it..
bt i thought 'parippu vada' would hav served better than samosa(hope this is an south indian 'chayakada':))..
: ) omg...aravind...u need to go thru it once agn i gs....cos it was jus a try dt i nvr thot wd fetch much comments....
ReplyDeleteam i floating arnd??(no rte...)
thank u so much...ur comment is really superb dn ma post..hheehee
yup...by d way...surely 'paripu vada' wd hav been a better choice....(thank u fr pointin it out)
the aroma of memories !!!!
ReplyDelete...really enjoyed reading kochettan's chayakkada..:)kudos to u
loved the visual quality of it :)
: )hey thanks Neetha..
ReplyDeleteNeetha....i was compelled to complete this as u had askd me abt it the othr day...or else it wd nvr hav seen d light...
ReplyDeletei really don't get words to appreciate you farah.my poor delete button has been squeezed so many times that i feel like it would yell "f**k of you idiot".anyways m happy to know tht there is a "kochettan's chayakkada" existing amid the "ambroooozias"
ReplyDelete: ) hey thanks...
ReplyDeletesory abt ma word abt comin up wit a study, sorry as i cudn com up wit somthing that cud compliment it k..
ReplyDelete