Hardik Vaidya

(26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

Stopping by the tea stop


Stopping by the Tea Shop:

My driver gives his squeaky throat a shake,
Asks if its tea time.
It's 0030 I see the wood lit fire,
A kettle,
My imagination is cold.
The tea was warm,
LPG heated.
My driver shook his head,
Said tea was too much,
I retorted halve it,
He looked askance,
tiger, said I,
Throw what you can't sip.
I heard his mental bell shake,
On my next sip I found a fly,
Dead and belly up,
In the embrace of my tea cup.
I told him,
Anwar, I will drink the other,
Half, of your tea,
You were right,
Full kills.

Hardik Mahesh Vaidya.

If Sir Robert Frost would have written this instead of stopping by the woods on a snowy evening, literature would have died.

Written while being driven in the car near Samakhali Kutch 0057 hrs.

Submitted: Thursday, December 05, 2013

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