I liked the cup. It was blue at the bottom and had red and white design at the top. The tea drank from it had this peculiar taste of tea that is being drank from a blue and red cup with white designs. If you don't know what am I talking about then the loss is absolutely yours...
I was sitting by a wooden table with a blue and red cup of tea in my hand and my eyes were examining the surroundings. Tall chair with a red colour pillow, a poster of a film star from the sixties, a guy who dropped in for a moment to enjoy his office coffee break, cups arranged neatly on the shelf.
They were sitting two tables away from mine. Early twenties I guess, he might have been slightly elder to her. They were both busy smiling at each other and I think he might have even wanted to hold her hand but was too scared of doing so in front of strangers.
She lowered her eyes to study the menu card. She wanted to enjoy some of the exotic tastes that the place was offering. She zered on a strawberry flavoured green tea, which was being advertised as one of those rarities that one is supposed to try in order to become a true connoisseur of tea. It was also one of the most expensive items in the card and I could see for a moment a glimpse of panic in his eyes as he tried calculate in his mind whether he would have enough money in his wallet to be able to pay the bill. He was still smiling.
She was pretty. Big dove like eyes smeared with kajal. Long hair. Glowing skin. Straight teeth.
'You know... I could only marry a man who would gift me a diamond in an 18kt golden ring' she said.
She was pretty. She was pretty indeed. Eyebrow threading. Golden facial. Legs and hands waxing. Hairdresser. French manicure. Pedicure. Hand cream. Under-eye cream. Moisturising cream. Lipstick. Perfume.
He was still smiling. With a smile on his face he would drop out of college and study correspondence to join the call center to earn those few thousands that he would put into his bank account. He would eat once a day to save those few hundreds so that she could have her strawberry tea once a week. He would walk everywhere to save those few coins so that he could pay for her auto back home in the evening. He would do this stupid job once in his life that would make him feel ashamed of himself but would allow him to put those few thousands more into the bank. He would cut his foot and not go to the doctor to save a few hundreds and his foot would become swollen and hurt for six weeks. He would not go to see the sea with his friends to save few hundreds that he would otherwise have to spend on a ticket. He would not get himself a dog to save money that he would have to spend on dog's food, instead he would put few hundreds more into his account every month.
She enjoyed her tea. It had a flavour of sophistication mixed with a pinch of aestheticism. She had always been inclined towards beauty - the walls of her house were full of paintings that she bought at auctions or during her visits to art galleries. She would finish law at one of the ivy league universities and work in a foreign bank. One day the son of her parents' friends would gift her a platinum ring with 2 diamonds. One day at work she would catch a glimpse of a bit familiar face of a man applying for a loan. Unable to recollect the face she would just think to herself how silly those little people are - they do not know how to succeed in life and constantly beg big companies to give them money to survive.
He would not be given a loan. With tears in his eyes he would raise the ax to cut down the olive tree that his grandfather planted after returning from his only travel abroad. The tree was just about to give fruits... He sold the land to the multinational construction company - the land would be converted into a calling center of a foreign bank. They would install big computers and college drop outs would be calling people to offer them loans and credit cards.
I finished my cup of black tea and paid the bill. As I went out I spotted a child sleeping on the ground at the construction site across the street. She kept her head on a pillow made out of her mother's sari and was dreaming of her village and the girls playing with a blue ball by the river. A squirrel run up the wall. I could spot a single line on its grey fur, as if somebody had touched it with a finger dipped in paint.
I looked back. She was still pretty. He was still smiling.
I was sitting by a wooden table with a blue and red cup of tea in my hand and my eyes were examining the surroundings. Tall chair with a red colour pillow, a poster of a film star from the sixties, a guy who dropped in for a moment to enjoy his office coffee break, cups arranged neatly on the shelf.
They were sitting two tables away from mine. Early twenties I guess, he might have been slightly elder to her. They were both busy smiling at each other and I think he might have even wanted to hold her hand but was too scared of doing so in front of strangers.
She lowered her eyes to study the menu card. She wanted to enjoy some of the exotic tastes that the place was offering. She zered on a strawberry flavoured green tea, which was being advertised as one of those rarities that one is supposed to try in order to become a true connoisseur of tea. It was also one of the most expensive items in the card and I could see for a moment a glimpse of panic in his eyes as he tried calculate in his mind whether he would have enough money in his wallet to be able to pay the bill. He was still smiling.
She was pretty. Big dove like eyes smeared with kajal. Long hair. Glowing skin. Straight teeth.
'You know... I could only marry a man who would gift me a diamond in an 18kt golden ring' she said.
She was pretty. She was pretty indeed. Eyebrow threading. Golden facial. Legs and hands waxing. Hairdresser. French manicure. Pedicure. Hand cream. Under-eye cream. Moisturising cream. Lipstick. Perfume.
He was still smiling. With a smile on his face he would drop out of college and study correspondence to join the call center to earn those few thousands that he would put into his bank account. He would eat once a day to save those few hundreds so that she could have her strawberry tea once a week. He would walk everywhere to save those few coins so that he could pay for her auto back home in the evening. He would do this stupid job once in his life that would make him feel ashamed of himself but would allow him to put those few thousands more into the bank. He would cut his foot and not go to the doctor to save a few hundreds and his foot would become swollen and hurt for six weeks. He would not go to see the sea with his friends to save few hundreds that he would otherwise have to spend on a ticket. He would not get himself a dog to save money that he would have to spend on dog's food, instead he would put few hundreds more into his account every month.
She enjoyed her tea. It had a flavour of sophistication mixed with a pinch of aestheticism. She had always been inclined towards beauty - the walls of her house were full of paintings that she bought at auctions or during her visits to art galleries. She would finish law at one of the ivy league universities and work in a foreign bank. One day the son of her parents' friends would gift her a platinum ring with 2 diamonds. One day at work she would catch a glimpse of a bit familiar face of a man applying for a loan. Unable to recollect the face she would just think to herself how silly those little people are - they do not know how to succeed in life and constantly beg big companies to give them money to survive.
He would not be given a loan. With tears in his eyes he would raise the ax to cut down the olive tree that his grandfather planted after returning from his only travel abroad. The tree was just about to give fruits... He sold the land to the multinational construction company - the land would be converted into a calling center of a foreign bank. They would install big computers and college drop outs would be calling people to offer them loans and credit cards.
I finished my cup of black tea and paid the bill. As I went out I spotted a child sleeping on the ground at the construction site across the street. She kept her head on a pillow made out of her mother's sari and was dreaming of her village and the girls playing with a blue ball by the river. A squirrel run up the wall. I could spot a single line on its grey fur, as if somebody had touched it with a finger dipped in paint.
I looked back. She was still pretty. He was still smiling.
