Storm in a tea-cup

Hope you enjoy this short fiction story.

I first met Kantibhai when I joined as a clerk in a nearby architecture college. Kantibhai’s tea stall was tucked away at the corner of a building in swanky downtown Prabhadevi. It was the location which made his business boom. Two of the biggest banks, United Bank and Royal Bank had its branches across the road.
He had a small place; a platform where he made his tea, and strained it with a cloth which would have been washed centuries ago. Frames of Ganpati and Sai Baba adorned a shelf on the wall. With a bald pate, and a forever question mark on his face, he seemed to know each patron’s taste in tea and cigarettes. I never heard him speak a word.
I soon started bumping into other regulars. Two of them intrigued me as they always seemed to discuss grand plans loudly.
I gathered that they were from the United Bank, and the bank was rumored to shut down. Ashok and Arvind seemed clones of each other, dressed in striped shirts and ties. They walked in always talking loudly, and demanded tea from him by snapping their fingers. When leaving, they would throw the money on his tea counter. Ashok was particularly pompous. I wondered whether he was some big shot in the bank.
On one particularly hot day in May, Ashok looked agitated.
“What if our bank shuts down? The rumours are very strong. We have to do something”
“Look Ashok, I told you, we must try and get a job in Royal Bank. That’s our only bet. I heard that there was one position vacant for a Sales RM.”

They seemed desperate to find out more.
“I know the Branch head of Royal Bank comes here everyday for tea at 5. It’s almost 5. Let’s wait for him.”
Minutes ticked by, and both paced around nervously. Half an hour later, there was no sign of him.
“I have a friend who knows someone in Royal Bank. Let me try calling him.”
Ten calls and many cigarettes later, Ashok was frustrated, and drained with sweat.
Not to be outdone, he punching some keys on his phone. “I am going to surf the Royal Bank website to see if there are openings on it.”
10 minutes later, Ashok was ready to throw his phone. “Nothing at all on the website.”
A pretty girl walked in. She was wearing the uniform of the Royal Bank. Although I hadn’t seen her before, Kantibhai seemed to know her.
Ashok nudged his friend; “Let’s sweet-talk her. I think I have seen her smoke here before.”
From a distance I saw Ashok, his perspiration stain around the armhole widening, walk towards the girl. My ears strained to hear what they were talking. I saw Ashok pull out a cigarette. I had only momentarily turned to Kantibhai for a refill, when I heard a resounding slap followed by the clickety clack of high heels.
Kantibhai was trying very hard to hide his laughter. I was more concerned about Ashok's next move.
Ashok looked around to see who had seen the incident. When he saw that it was only Kantibhai and me, he slumped on the nearby bench with a sullen face.
He snapped his fingers. Kantibhai brought him a tea, and I could see he had still not given up.
As Ashok got up, he threw the money for the tea on the counter, and suddenly stopped.
“Kantibhai, maybe you can tell me about that vacancy in Royal Bank” He burst out laughing.
“What a fool I am to ask you. Stupid chai-wallah.” I couldn’t believe my ears.
Kantibhai looked at him with a broad smile on his face. Did he not understand that Ashok was insulting him?
“Arre Sir, you should have asked me before. The Sales RM position is no longer vacant. It has been given to the Branch manager’s wife’s brother. As for the money for the tea, consider it a treat from my end. You will need to save every penny.”
Two months later, I joined Royal Bank as a junior officer.

A poem to my child...

If parenthood is tough, then bringing up a child alone is even tougher. My best friend of more than a decade is one such Mom, and a super mom at that! Another friend Anu, brings up her child alone as her dad works in Muscat. I drew inspiration from them to write this poem; A poem from a single parent to her child. Shalu and Ishna; this one's for you, and for every parent out there who's doing two jobs alone....

I held you close when I was broken.
You came and wiped away my tears often.
Now you’re all grown up to face the world.
And I wonder what you think of me.

Do you wonder why I brought you up alone?
Do you wonder if I made the right choice?
Do you blame me for life’s difficult moments?
Do you understand why I chose to move on?

I know the questions which came in your mind,
You didn’t ask them for they would make me cry.
I knew you cried when I wasn’t looking.
But in front of me didn’t let out a sigh.

You grew much faster for your age,
Did I forget often that you were just a child?
Was I harsh with you so many times?
Did I fail you when I couldn’t handle my rage?

Did you feel the love that I had for you?
Did you know you were the reason for me walking strong?
Did you know that in moments of despair,
You were to me a breath of fresh air!

I tried to be both Dad and Mom.
Sometimes, I forgot to be both.
Yet, you reminded me always of who I was.
To keep fighting without a pause.

I want to see the world through your eyes now.
I want to know if there was anything I did right?
Most of all, I want to ask you;
Do you still love me despite all my faults?

The Ugly Duckling

The auditorium was packed. Eager family members sat on one side,while the students sat on the other. Maroon and gold colours shared centrestage with the shining trophies on display. As the lights dimmed, all eyes were on the stage. It was the annual convocation day of the Indian Institute of Management. She sat in the audience glued to her seat in the section marked for the family members. As the convocation began, she clapped for student after student, and yet her eyes waited for someone else.

“And now, the Gold medal for outstanding contribution by a faculty member goes to Mr. Prakash Doshi.”

She sprang to her feet, and clapped with all her might. To her surprise, she found she wasn’t the only one standing. Every person in the auditorium was sharing her sentiment.

Through her moist eyes, she saw him accept the award and make his way to the lectern.

“I feel humbled by your support and love. Thank You. And yet standing here today, I want to tell you a story. It’s about the ugly duckling.”

She felt her tears fall like they had a mind of their own. And as she thought about the Ugly duckling, she found herself remembering those defining days in her life.

Her family was a family of University Toppers. And yet she was the black sheep. She excelled at studies, but wasn’t too interested in them. She was an all rounder, and was good at extra-curriculars. Toeing the family line, she took science after her tenth. And soon after, she found herself less interested in Science, and more interested in pursuing Hotel Management after 12^th. That had a separate exam, and she was determined to make it.

She still remembered the day she received her HSC result. 62.5%; the lowest in the Doshi family history. She was shocked to see her low marks, and knew she had let her father down. How could she look him in the eye? What would he say? Days passed by, and she knew she had to study for the Hotel Management exam, and yet she couldn’t get over her failure. She avoided her father studiously.

And then, he had called her. Her heart skipped a beat, and she waited in anticipation of the dressing down she would get.

“Have you heard about the story of the ugly duckling? You, my darling daughter are that ugly duckling who will transform soon into a beautiful swan. Have faith in yourself, and give your best in whatever you want to do!!”

The fairy tale heard as a child seemed more relevant to her than ever, and she studied for the Hotel Management entrance with a vengeance to prove herself to the world. She had achieved her goal of studying at IHM, Mumbai, and graduated with honors.

Many years later, her father as VP in a large MNC was going through a rough patch. He refused to compromise on his principles, and chose to quit with dignity.

He did so, without a job in hand. She would see him often quietly sitting at home, trying to search for a job. He also did a few consultancy assignments, but nothing permanent was coming his way. She was at a loss for words. What could she say to her father; a man who is so brilliant, and was going through this for no fault of his? What would make him regain his faith in himself?

The Ugly duckling story! Of course! She reminded him; that he too was like that ugly duckling. It was just a matter of time before he blossomed into a lovely swan.

His face had lit up, and for the first time she had seen tears in his eyes. Not of sadness, not of joy, but of pride.

And today, as she stood there watching him receive the award; she felt the same tears of pride. His deep voice, choked with emotion filled the auditorium.

“Just like the ugly duckling, we all go through times in our lives, when we lose faith in our identity, and ourselves. Its then that we need someone to remind us, that the ugly duckling always transforms into a beautiful swan. I am lucky I had my daughter to remind me.”

And as she saw him walk off the stage to thundering applause yet again, she knew which fairy tale she would be telling her children some day.