Once you are alone with yourself. No one is near to you. You are
sitting all alone in a crowded room full of strangers, acquaintances,
passersby and what not. It’s a small now nearly lost Iranian Tea House,
just opposite Syed Manzil or is it not Iranian any more..??
I looked around …on the traditional counter the man was certainly not Irani, some local but the tea, it still had remnants of Old irani aroma, the half-cuttings, the cuttings, the pepper mint….. No they were not there, But the rounded sweet Jars were…behind the counters were stacks of Biscuits, 50:50, Zeera plus, and some unknown brand of coca-nut flavor and what that…?
In the Lime light were Packets of Sathi, a lost cause for the massive Population Welfare Department., They say they have some how dragged the population growth rate from 3.1 to 2.9 percent. Bangladesh had brought it down to about 1.8 in less time…
The Old radio …or was it a tape recorder was blurting out an old Lata’s Goldies….
It seemed strange at a place, so noisy, and full to hear a soft song….. One cannot even hear what was she singing….Just a tune and sweet crooning was all one could hear.
… On the Next table with a marble top, they still have those Marble top small tables with four trademark chairs once familiar in all the Iranian Hotels in Karachi, A beggar sat down with a thud, the Bar Wala Boy pounced on him….But he curtly ordered a tea and some biscuits. The Bar wala boy … cursing him silently …went away to get his tea and biscuits… and within a jiffy came back… and nearly threw the stuff at him.
The beggar non-challantly ignored his misconduct as if he is used to such a behavior and spurred his tea… Spurred…? What is spurred…. one might ask…. well if you pour your tea in the plate and then try to drink in with lips closed… you will make a spurring Noise….Spur…slurpppppp…slurpppp…. slurpppp and within minutes he poured the whole hot content into his egar empty belly….and biscuits he put them in his Alms’ bowl ….and howled for the Bar Wala Boy Again…. as if he is in too hurry….
Bar Boy….. Gestured him to go to the counter….and hollered…. Chey Rupeeya….. (6 Rs) the beggar dragged himself unto the counter…. with an innocent look as if to ask for alms.
Then from within his Sudri…. (A small piece with pocket in it) took out a bundle of Notes… all Rs 1000, 500, many of Rs 100, and Rs50, they must be of more then… Rs 10,000 denomination…. took out an Old checkered Rs 10 … and placed onto the counter …the manager took hold of the Rs 10 Note…speculated on it…and then poured out some coins in the plate….But By then …the beggar was gone ….waving his Hand ….and pointing to the Bar Wala Boy…. as if asking him to collect his tip from there………. And again I was engulfed by the deafening silence of self. In the crowded room filled with strangers, passersby, acquaintances…. A Bus blurted its Horn somewhere on the road…..
… And the Life moved on…….leaving me all alone again…..
PS [ The orignal was posted on 18 April 2010 This is a Re-post as Blogger some how deleted that ... this is from my personal back up ]
I looked around …on the traditional counter the man was certainly not Irani, some local but the tea, it still had remnants of Old irani aroma, the half-cuttings, the cuttings, the pepper mint….. No they were not there, But the rounded sweet Jars were…behind the counters were stacks of Biscuits, 50:50, Zeera plus, and some unknown brand of coca-nut flavor and what that…?
In the Lime light were Packets of Sathi, a lost cause for the massive Population Welfare Department., They say they have some how dragged the population growth rate from 3.1 to 2.9 percent. Bangladesh had brought it down to about 1.8 in less time…
The Old radio …or was it a tape recorder was blurting out an old Lata’s Goldies….
It seemed strange at a place, so noisy, and full to hear a soft song….. One cannot even hear what was she singing….Just a tune and sweet crooning was all one could hear.
… On the Next table with a marble top, they still have those Marble top small tables with four trademark chairs once familiar in all the Iranian Hotels in Karachi, A beggar sat down with a thud, the Bar Wala Boy pounced on him….But he curtly ordered a tea and some biscuits. The Bar wala boy … cursing him silently …went away to get his tea and biscuits… and within a jiffy came back… and nearly threw the stuff at him.
The beggar non-challantly ignored his misconduct as if he is used to such a behavior and spurred his tea… Spurred…? What is spurred…. one might ask…. well if you pour your tea in the plate and then try to drink in with lips closed… you will make a spurring Noise….Spur…slurpppppp…slurpppp…. slurpppp and within minutes he poured the whole hot content into his egar empty belly….and biscuits he put them in his Alms’ bowl ….and howled for the Bar Wala Boy Again…. as if he is in too hurry….
Bar Boy….. Gestured him to go to the counter….and hollered…. Chey Rupeeya….. (6 Rs) the beggar dragged himself unto the counter…. with an innocent look as if to ask for alms.
Then from within his Sudri…. (A small piece with pocket in it) took out a bundle of Notes… all Rs 1000, 500, many of Rs 100, and Rs50, they must be of more then… Rs 10,000 denomination…. took out an Old checkered Rs 10 … and placed onto the counter …the manager took hold of the Rs 10 Note…speculated on it…and then poured out some coins in the plate….But By then …the beggar was gone ….waving his Hand ….and pointing to the Bar Wala Boy…. as if asking him to collect his tip from there………. And again I was engulfed by the deafening silence of self. In the crowded room filled with strangers, passersby, acquaintances…. A Bus blurted its Horn somewhere on the road…..
… And the Life moved on…….leaving me all alone again…..
PS [ The orignal was posted on 18 April 2010 This is a Re-post as Blogger some how deleted that ... this is from my personal back up ]
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