One Cuppa Chai

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Chapter 1
Sprawled Across

What can one compare the racing heartbeats of first love with? Like the inconspicuous breeze before the first monsoon shower, the tiny buds that bloom in spring or the hum of an old melody...? The reminiscence that dwells in the secret chambers of the heart, like in a Pandora box, unequalled and unforgettable.

1996, Hyderabad

There was something about that warm, musky afternoon that etched into my brain, stored as a sacred memoir of that particular day when I snuck out of my grandmother's house unnoticed, into the neighbouring orchard where the children of the locality gathered.I'd used the opening music of the Daily soap to conceal the noise of my ungraceful landing into the neighbouring compound. It was with the most helpful assistance of the washing tank that elevated itself to a very convenient height for me. 

I clutched some of my adored glass marbles in my hand and deposited them into the pocket of my trousers before stepping on the lower branch of the tree clumsily.
Dry leaves crunched under my shoes and his head whirled and faced me, and stretched out his hand which I declined, reaching out for the branch above me and firming my feet on the trunk, hoisting myself. I scooted next to the boys and my legs dangled down. I glanced down into the neighbour's compound which we were overlooking. Someone was properly drying the clothes on the wall in a bright orange saree, my favourite colour.

"Who's this boy?" My playmate's unfamiliar friend asked while I dusted my trousers. He was carrying a sling in his hand, which I happened to notice, belonged to me.

My attention dissipated at his question. Boy? Mumma told people I was a girl... Strange, how this gender thing works outside of my house.

"Girl," Kabir affirmed my gender and tried to remember my name and I was really helpful even as a five-year-old. .

"Shyla." I supplied and the other boy showed some surprise on his face.
A little boy's pudgy arms came up and tugged at my sleeve.

I looked down at the little boy who was trying to claim my attention. "Get that." I pointed at the stranger who was fiddling with my wooden sling. Mine.

I knew he would, as he reached to the other boy; but with poor instincts, because he shoved his hands away with a frown.

I reached out to push him because I was apparently pissed, which startled him and he dropped the sling and to hold the branch for his dear life instead. My subordinate was already scurrying down the tree for the sling.

What amused me more than the fact that I was ready to risk the poor kid's life for a 20 bucks sling was the fact that nobody else flinched. The sling was back in my hands and all was well.I was ready to forgive the traitor and accept him into the game.

It was not that the boy had taken my act in humour, but he understood that I was an authoritative figure in the playground. His eyes pooled and he hurriedly wiped them off to join us.

Life as a girl with a buzz cut and trousers was not hard apart from the gender confusion which I found irrelevant anyways. I was a recognised authority among my toddler playmates.What else could life offer?

Most of the boys, I stopped bullying or playing with, much to their relief. But what seemed like ages ago, we had a routine playtime by the colony. The colony where I met Kabir and then stared the string of introductions.

 My first playmate was acquainted with me by this spritely lady we met at the dentist's place. We were too middle-class to consider a visit to the dentist as a necessity but then my sister's wails that morning were enough to convince my mother that it presently was.