Let’s sit at a roadside   dhaaba, steam curling from chipped clay cups. Let the chai’s heat rise between us, softening silence, stirring words we didn’t know we carried. Let the rain drip from tin rooftops, its rhythm folding into our pauses. Let the world blur for a while, So only the scent of Elaichi and the sound of your laughter remains.    We’ll break  pakoras , crisp and golden, or tear into flaky  lachaydaar parathas, grease marking our fingers, moments marking our souls. Maybe we'll wait for something that takes forever to bake, just so I can linger in your eyes, learning their language sip by sip until the only thing left to agree upon is the giving of your heart. And then, I wouldn’t be waiting for chai anymore. I’d be the one brewing every cup for you stronger on weary days, sweeter on the softer ones. So let’s give life a chance. Let it write our story in rising steam, in unspoken words, in feelings that quietly spill over a simple cup of chai...
Hot takes, deep thoughts, and random rants. If it’s on my mind, it’s on this blog.