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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Layers over layer of colourful, chiming bangles lined her hand as she worked.
Leela stared into the pot of steaming chai, taking in the wafting scent of fragrant cardamom and fresh cloves as she doled the drink out into little glass cups.
The familiar, now-iconic packaging of the Kamal Jalebi tea stall sat brightly against her sturdy wooden working table, littered with little spills of food crumbs, a tea-stained notebook, and a stray earring she had flicked away half an hour ago.
"Five Kamal special cups, ready to go", she yelled out to the back.
"Uh-y-yes", came a muffled reply from the back, where her assistant was busy dipping his spoon into a bowl of the latest batch of warm carrot halwa she had slaved on all morning.
She smiled, watching the colours already froth and fume on the roads. The crowds swelled larger and larger, welcoming the onset of Holi, the festival that decked her already colourful stall with even brighter shades of saffron reds and marigold yellows.
The Kamal Jalebi had seen countless years of fests and carnivals go by, loyally standing to serve its patrons with welcoming smiles, steaming hot drinks and melting food to go with.
Leela herself had grown up helping her parents hand out chilled buttermilk from the large, cool earthen pots, wandering around the streets with her friends while colours rained all around.
Now, decked in long, fine white clothes that billowed around as she hurried about, Leela kept her eyes carefully trained on the large, hot pan where boiling oil fried smooth batter into crispy, sugary sweet jalebis.
She packed a heavy boxful of them, neatly plastering on a sticker of their logo before carrying the box to the front of the stall.
A swarm of young men and women greeted her as she came through, bringing with them the happy cheer of festive merriment and worn-out exhilaration.
Some of them held out their billing tickets, noisily demanding that she serve them first, while others languidly sipped on their own little mud cups of chilled buttermilk and mango shakes, exchanging lazy conversations with friends and family.
Leela smiled triumphantly, her eyes running over the rest of the lane's little stalls around her whose customers were already eyeing the large glass jars of stuffed sweets and warm buns. For a minute, she let her gaze on the new, fashionable little café that had opened right across the street.
A couple of her regulars caught her looking, and smirked back.
"Looks like that boy from the new shop had quite a start", one of the older ladies remarked as Leela handed her a pack with fresh goods.
"I saw what you did online", the woman's daughter remarked, holding up her phone to show her mother the tea shop's latest post on social media. The woman burst into peals of laughter, smiling back up at her softly. "A little harsh on the boy, don't you think?"
