Two rival café owners. One busy, bustling street. The war begins.
Leela's quirky little tea shop, the "Kamal Jalebi" has always had the evening crowd swooning for its hot, steaming chai - until some rich, snobbish café pops up right across the stree...
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Everyone hated his guts. Krish knew it the moment he stepped into the little lane.
He first doubted it when he saw the flower-seller uncle gave him a discreet stink-eye as soon as he stepped out of the tiny cab, holding the last of his potted plants.
Then came the not-so-nice lady who had rudely ignored him when he'd asked to borrow her little folding table to place his ceramic cups on (just for the hour until his furniture arrived, please, ma'am). She'd simply quirked an eyebrow, muttered that "it was busy" before turning back to her vending machine stuffed with colourful balloons—only to leave him staring at the empty table lying uselessly at the dusty corner.
The worst of all came the owner of 'Shoes for You-es' next door who rudely slammed the door on his face when he offered his perfectly-baked vanilla cupcakes. The very first batch Krish had gotten done as soon as he set up shop, not minding the sweltering afternoon heat.
Swiping at his sweaty forehead with a dull pink towel, he sighed, plopping himself down onto a nearby chair. Peeling out the wrapping, he stuffed one of his baked shortcake slices into his mouth, munching silently as he stared outside the window.
"So much for the big dream", he spoke to the rest of the cake. "All of today afternoon's work down the wrong gut. "
The street bustled with colour and life outside his large glass window, shopkeepers ambling around to dust off the pathways leading up to their doors and crowds pushing through from the ice-cream stalls carrying large strawberry cones as the evening set in.
Three, six, eight, he counted, eyeing the pink-and-blue tables he'd set up over the polished tiled floor of his café. Chairs in two's and four's sat neatly arranged around them, all littered around a comfortable couch that was worth a whole sixty draining days at his old corporate job.
Washing down the bitter taste it left in his mouth with a chug of water, Krish walked to the corner to pull out the final decorative piece, carefully ripping out the wrapper as he ran his hands through the glinting metal.
Three small tulips of yellow, purple and blue stared back at him in gentle pastel shades from the light brown board, with neat, cursive lettering embossed in classy print.
Krish picked the heavy nameboard up with heaving arms, holding it up as the fading sunlight cast a warm glow over its smooth detailing.
"The Flirty Tulip", he read out loud, taking gentle strides to the double doors and ducking to avoid the chiming dreamcatcher he'd put up on the ceiling.
Nearly a dozen pair of eyes found him as soon as he did, most peeking over the rim of distinct green-lined glasses that furiously steamed with tea. He also found a good few scrunched up noses behind large, fluffy looking buns, besides the occasional scowl hidden behind a thin biscuit.
They all seemed to be a part of a large fort of people that stood cluttered around a stall that stood directly opposite to his new café, barely letting the glimpse of its frame as more crowds swarmed closer. He knew it was a colourful little tea-and-snack establishment that lived right across the little lane, however, what had them staring murderously at his bright pastel board of tulips, Krish could barely tell.
The crowd grimaced further when they caught him looking, turning away to exchange little whispers and knowing glances.
Anxiety starting to pool in his stomach, Krish pulled over a little stool, and stepping lightly atop, gently hung up the nameboard over the four sturdy nails hammered into the exterior wall.
The Flirty Tulip, his own little dreamy café, was finally complete in full, newly-minted glory.
For a moment, he leaned back, admiring his handiwork. Wiping the last of the dust from his fingers over the worn-out trousers he wore, Krish ran his hand over the board where his own name stood out in smaller letters.
A thrill of joy took over him, already washing away the weariness of long-drawn nights at a desk job and countless days rubbing away the bags under his eyes.
He whipped around on his heels to face the crowd's distasteful stare again, smile stretching out on his lips as he gave them a greeting nod.
Alright, let them be dull and droopy all they like, he told himself. I'll water them out like flowers in no time.
Some of them exchanged questioning glances with each other as others stared back.
"Welcome to the Flirty Tulip", he spoke out loud with a wave. "My name is Krish, and I am the new owner of this plant-shop café. If you're ever in the mood for fresh coffee and warm cake, please do step through."
He tried to grin encouragingly, leaning to a side to see the owners of the rest of the other stores watch curiously. Their blank glances did nothing to help, but Krish tried his best to keep his happy customer-service face intact.
Just like the flowers, he thought to himself once again. Stubborn little things need just a bit more watering-out.
Jumping down from his stool, he held out an arm politely to the nearest man. "I'm sure we will get along swimmingly well—"
A sharp, stinging pain shot over his cheek, cutting him off as he felt the wet splotch of water flood his mouth. Krish looked down at his shirt in horror, finding it fully drenched from a large, slippery wet balloon hurled sloppily at him .
Whipping around to find the culprit, he found three snickering children laugh devilishly at the end of the street, blowing him a raspberry before taking flight around the corner.
Krish looked back up at the watching crowd, many doing barely anything to control their little sniggers of laughter. One of them even pulled out his phone, quietly snapping a picture before returning it to his pocket.
Barely holding in a frustrated growl, Krish stomped his way back into the building, slamming the doors closed as the dreamcatcher shuddered violently.
Pushing himself wearily onto the couch, he pulled out his own phone that lit up softly with a new notification—the first from the new social media account he had created for his café, inscribed onto the new nameboard he'd hung up moments ago.
"Huh", he muttered, sitting upright as he quickly clicked through to let his eyes wander over the contents.
For a moment, Kirsh sat still, jaw slackening with disbelief as he read and reread, once, twice, thrice. With a loud groan, he shut his eyes to lean back over the cushions, letting his phone slip away form his grip to take away the cursed post.
It was a small account that had tagged the café, with a colorful logo of a saffron-coloured tea glass that had a long thin jalebi snaking all over it.
thekamaljalebi , said the account name, who latest post featured Krish's own shocked face looking like a slobbering mess, caught stared stupidly at the camera with the nameboard of his café proudly standing out at the back. It came with a simple, one-line caption.
Some little flirts are meant to drown.
~*~
Author's note:
Hello and welcome to the first chapter of Chai Wars!
If you have come this far, I hope you will travel with me through the rest of this little journey. Please share your thoughts in the comments section, and press that star so your votes will continue helping me brew more magic.
Oh and mandatory disclaimer: None of the people, events, characters and places are real. This is a purely fictional story meant to be a safe space for all readers, and is for entertainment purposes only.
